If the solitary were to have a patron saint, it seems to me, it would have to be St. Joseph. He is the one who surrendered himself to not knowing. He could not know, for certain, that Mary was with a holy child. She was unmarried and pregnant. He could not prove that any of his dreams were true, yet he followed them. They were not minor dreams. They involved fleeing his homeland at night. They involved his marrying a woman not pregnant by himself. They determined when he would bring Mary and Jesus home -- and not to the home he envisioned.

And he would die before ever knowing if this was, indeed, the Messiah. He would die, not knowing.

Men and women who live solitary lives out of a feeling of vocation, will live that life uniquely. Some will cling to the figure of Jesus; some to the mystery of God; some to faith in the Holy Spirit. There is nothing that "unites" solitaries -- no creed, no covenant, no way of life. Except one thing.

The solitary has one defining characteristic. Like St. Joseph, he or she abdicates their need to know. They say, in essence, "I have a purpose. It is to love the unknowableness of God."

Without Joseph's protection and his trust in his dreams, Mary might have been stoned to death; the child might have been massacred.

Mary died knowing her child was the Messiah; Joseph died not knowing if anything he did was what was needed for the resurrection story to happen.

Solitaries are a state of the heart, it seems to me. There is some final battleground that each faces in his or her own way. If they follow solitude to its source, they will eventually see the unknowable-ness of God in stark unnegotiable terms.

Nothing -- not moments of transcendence, not feelings that prayers were answered, and certainly not church affirmation -- will result, for the solitary, in any certainty. Indeed, it is a severing moment when the solitary accepts unequivocally that affirmation and confirmation, from society, church, or God, will not be forthcoming. But they continue anyway. As Joseph did.

Such solitaries, having crossed this terrible knowing, sink deep into unknowing no longer needing to understand God or God's ways. This is not a callous indifference to evil and suffering. It is not an abdication of peace and justice. But it is a realization, in every cell of their body, that they are not God.

Everyone wants God to be understandable ö theologians, church teachers, fathers and mothers, children. We want God to make sense of this world, of our lives, of suffering and even of joy. We constantly badger God for knowledge. We define God. We create whole theologies; dogmas and traditions and church practices. We define good and evil, who is holy and who is damned. We sanctify -- and execute.

Somehow, in none of those scenes do we see St. Joseph. He lived in the absolute truth of unknowing ö and died in it. He acted in it. He utterly trusted it. He asked no great questions nor reported any great answers. He provided protection for a woman carrying what society would call a bastard child.

God used Joseph's willingness to not know. It was precisely this gift that was needed to protect Jesus as he grew into manhood.

Joseph did not live in some cave, alone and removed from society. He was a family man, a carpenter, a member of his tribe. But it was his inner hidden solitude that gave strength to the unfolding of the Jesus story.

He saw God not from his knowing ö but from his unknowing. And that is precisely the one, and perhaps only, thing that identifies the solitary. The silent dweller accepts, and willingly and lovingly lives, in the heart of the silence of the unknowable God.

While God colors up the mountains, Paul and I are applying the last coat of paint to our mountain chalet - a project that has absorbed most of our time and energy for the past three months. After very close and intimate scrutiny of every inch of our home, we are almost ready to put down our brushes and proclaim to the hills: WE ARE DONE!

But we almost missed a lovely summer by our absorption in this project. It is a lesson to remember as I set about assembling this issue of Raven's Bread. Deadlines should not blind me to the beauty of each article and letter I key in - and what a collection of riches we have to share with you this time!

With Thanksgiving at hand, we wish to thank our contributors for sharing their insights with us and our many readers who shared Raven's Bread with a friend and gained us many new subscribers. Through all of you, RB is becoming a meeting place for solitaries who otherwise would not have such an opportunity for exchanging thoughts, questions and ideas.

We wish to thank the Dominicans, in particular, Web-friar Albert Judy OP, for giving RB space on the Web. You don't know how many hermits have found us there · without leaving their solitude!

Since a number of you have asked that we continue Marabou's tradition of publishing Canonical Reflections, we have resurrected that column in this issue and will do so from time to time as opportunities arise.

Raven's Bread Lending Library is launched! A Book List and Guidelines for Borrowing are available to anyone who requests them by sending us a #10 SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope.) Our thanks to all who have contributed to this project.

We approach the season (in the northern hemisphere) that nature designed for quietude and the Church designates for reflection on the greatest of Mysteries. Why is it that God chooses to live on THIS planet? In OUR generation? And, most amazing of all, in OUR flesh? How is it WE are loved so much!

With Grateful love,

Karen

Consecration of life forms the heart of the hermit existence undertaken for love of God and humanity. It includes the practice of the evangelical counsels: chastity undertaken in solitude of spirit and heart; continual poverty in everyday life, experienced in prayer and in manual labor. (Most hermits must live from their labor and do not require alms except in case of necessity.) And obedience, by no means the least of the vows, is always a submission to the "now" of the divine call received as a personal vocation, an obedience that presupposes a regularity of life lived in continual dependence on God. This includes obedience in prayer, by which the hermit follows the divine will - graces, light, consolations, as well as aridity and obscurity (the latter being sometimes prolonged and very painful.)

The three counsels thus undertaken become signs of a love vowed to God and to humanity, centered on Christ's cross which unites all in His total gift for the salvation of the world. The eremitic life so pledged, is, par excellence, a consecrated life.

A sacred bond confirms the observance of the three counsels. This pledge can be a vow or a promise, whether reinforced or not by an oath. It can likewise be made by a public declaration, in the manner of the "propositum sanctum" of consecrated virgins (about whom Canon 604.1 speaks). We note that a promise is not made directly to God (as is a vow) but is made "propter Deum" - to the honor of God who calls and gives the grace of vocation, fidelity and constancy. The "propositum sanctum" can be, as a public declaration, a true sacred bond. It is made before God and the Church and expresses a firm will to follow Christ more closely and to imitate Him more faithfully in the solitary life. It should express all the essential elements of this vocation in the formula of profession. It will make reference to the plan of life, which (approved by the local bishop) will provide details for daily living.

Book Notices and Recommendations

Thoughts Matter: Practice of the Spiritual Life by Mary Margaret Funk, OSB Excellent study based on the Writings of St. Cassian; practical and easy to read. Continuum Press 1998

Carthusian Novice Conferences Series by A Carthusian. Transcribed from the actual notes of a Novice Master and not originally intended for publication. Topics now available: The Way of Silent Love, 1993; The Call of Silent Love, 1994:, Interior Prayer, 1996; The Freedom of Obedience, 1998. Pub. In USA by Cistercian Publications; in England by Darton, Longman and Todd

Silence: Making the Journey to Inner Quiet by Barbara Erakko Taylor. Practical, highly readable, enjoyable. Innisfree Press, Inc. Philadelphia, PA 1997, Paper, 152 pp. $13.95

Silent Dwellers: Living in the Space Between the Heartbeats of Life by Barbara Erakko Taylor. A gem exploring how one woman progresses into hermit life. Privately published. Paper, 55 pp. $10.00. Available from the author - 414 Harwood Road, Catonsville, MD 21228

The Aboriginal Gift: Spirituality for a Nation by Eugene Stockton. The author writes as a chaplain for Australian Aboriginal peoples and explores the value of their unique worldview. Published by Millennium Books, Alexandria, NSW, Australia 1995 Paper, 208pp.