Richard Rohr considers how we might, like the desert mystics, develop inner freedom through practice and solitude:
The desert fathers and mothers withdrew from cities to the desert to live freely, apart from the economic, cultural, and political structure of the Roman Empire. The abbas and ammas knew, as should we, that the empire would be an unreliable partner. They recognized that they had to find inner freedom from the system before they could return to it with true love, wisdom, and helpfulness. This is the continuing dynamic to this day, otherwise, “Culture eats Christianity for breakfast” to use a modern turn of phrase, and our deep transformative power is largely lost.
How do we find inner freedom? Notice that whenever we suffer pain, the mind is always quick to identify with the negative aspects of things and replay them over and over again, wounding us deeply. Almost all humans have a compulsion to fixate almost entirely on what’s wrong, which is why so many people become fearful, hate-filled, and wrapped around their negative commentaries. This pattern must be recognized early and definitively. Peace of mind is an oxymoron. When we’re in our mind, we’re hardly ever at peace; when we’re at peace, we’re never only in our mind. The early Christian abbas and ammas knew this and first insisted on finding the inner rest and quiet necessary to tame the obsessive mind.
In a story from Benedicta Ward’s The Sayings of the Desert Fathers: “A brother came to Scetis to visit Abba Moses and asked him for a word. The old man said to him, ‘Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.’” [1] But we don’t have to have a cell, and we don’t have to run away from the responsibilities of an active life, to experience solitude and silence. Amma Syncletica said, “There are many who live in the mountains and behave as if they were in the town, and they are wasting their time. It is possible to be a solitary in one’s mind while living in a crowd, and it is possible for one who is a solitary to live in the crowd of [their] own thoughts.” [2]
By solitude, the desert mystics didn’t mean mere privacy or protected space, although there is a need for that too. The desert mystics saw solitude, in Henri Nouwen’s words, as “the place of conversion, the place where the old self dies and the new self is born, the place where the emergence of the new man and the new woman occurs.” [3] Solitude is a courageous encounter with our naked, most raw and real self, in the presence of pure love. Quite often this can happen right in the midst of human relationships and busy lives.
References:
[1] The Sayings of the Desert Fathers: The Alphabetical Collection, trans. Benedicta Ward, rev. ed. (Cistercian Publications, 1984), 139.
[2] Sayings, 234.
[3] Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Way of the Heart: Desert Spirituality and Contemporary Ministry (Seabury Press, 1981), 27.
Adapted from Richard Rohr, “Solitude and Silence,” Daily Meditations, May 5, 2015.
Image credit and inspiration: Krn Kwatra, Untitled (detail), 2022, photo, Oman, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. Like the desert mothers and fathers, a person walks into the desert to find solitude and inspiration.
Story from Our Community:
I’ve always considered fasting during Lent a 40-day time of “gutting it out.” It was a period to grit my teeth until I could go back to enjoying whatever it was I had decided to give up. But this year, thanks to CAC’s readings, I’m engaging in much more contemplative and meditative time. I’m thinking about fasting differently, and as a result, I’m feeling closer to God. I now think that during his forty days in the desert, Jesus was not focused on fasting as suffering, but that fasting was a catalyst to bring him closer to God. This time of simplicity allowed him to experience peace beyond understanding and that is really the goal.
—Sean K.
