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New Camaldoli HermitageORDINARY TIME 2021

HOPE

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul -And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all -

– Emily Dickinson

ORDINARY TIME 2021

In This Issue

2 Words on Hope from our Editor Lisa Benner, Oblate, OSB Cam. 3 Prisoners of Hope Prior Cyprian Consiglio, OSB Cam.

4 All Shall Be Well: Boundless Hope Julian Washio-Collette, Oblate, OSB Cam.

5 Little Bird, Listen Ziggy Rendler-Bregman

6 Exercises in Empathy Jim Micheletti

8 Hope...from the Heart Karen Rockey

10 Goodbye Jill Gisselere

11 Activities and Visitors

11 What the Monks are Reading

2 ~ New Camaldoli Hermitage

Words on Hope from our EditorLisa Benner, Oblate, OSB Cam.

As I was mulling over what the theme of this Ordinary Time newsletter would be, I kept returning to hope. It resonated with me because in this past year, I don’t know anyone who hasn’t prayed for this. We’ve been bombarded with con-tinuous negative news and stories. The pandemic’s toll was bad enough, then add racial turmoil, ongoing political strife, apocalyptic weather patterns, unemployment, and now even potential alien activity—it’s enough to make one want to head for the hills and never look back.

As if the past year couldn’t get any worse, my family and I had to deal with the sudden loss of my father. His passing left us shocked and heartbroken. We were sent reeling into a void of confusion and numbness. As one day turned into the next, arrangements were made, food and flowers were in heavy abundance, friends and family covered us in love, prayers, and goodness. And I kept thinking, “How does anyone get through something like this without hope?” I was not seeking love or joy or even peace; I assumed those would show up in time. I needed hope. I needed blessed assurance that my dad was now in the loving presence of God. I relied on hope that my mom, in time, would navigate her new reality, that my brother and I would walk this life-altering change together, and that my aunt would be alright without her big brother. It was hope that sustained me through those days, and yes, in time, peace made its presence known. After some days the vision became clearer, joy showed up and gratitude pre-vailed. It was not easy, but perseverance through those dark days brought about its own glowing, glorious light, all because hope captured my attention and remained in my heart.

As I’ve been working on this essay and this newsletter, so many stories and examples of hope winning out have flooded my inbox and social media stream. It seems to be a common topic for discussion and prayer these days. So, it made perfect sense to us to focus on this as our theme in this newsletter.

I have called upon some good friends of the Hermitage to share their thoughts about this. Prior Cyprian, Karen, Julian, and Jim each bring a unique insight to this topic. In these pages we are asked to ponder: what is hope and where does it come from? Further, what to do if we find ourselves without it, and how can we get it back?

My hope for you, dear reader, is that your heart and your life are in constant supply of divine assurances and blessed hope!

Where the surety comes in, in the theological sense, isin a simple phrase from Saint Paul’s first Letter to theCorinthians: God will be all in all. One of the hallmarks of the prophetic traditions—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—is that history is going somewhere because God hasbegun it and will bring it to completion. History has adirectionality to it, and a telos, and ultimate goal. And that goal is that God will be all in all. We don’t have to beoptimistic; but there is reason and, as a Christian, an imperative to be hopeful.

I know that in my small leadership role as prior of theCamaldolese presence in California, I may never see the results of the work I have done, what will grow from the seeds I have planted, nor the impact of the themes I have raised. It is not mine to know. What is mine, however, is to do the right thing, stay true to the best of the Camaldolese

monastic tradition and the truly catholic spirit of Vatican II (and yes, I still dare use that now be-leaguered phrase), and my own under-standing of integral spirituality.

So many voices around us, in our nation and even in our Church, “cansee nothing butcalamity and disas-ter in the present state of the world. They say over and over that this mod-

ern age of ours, in comparison with past ages, is definitely deteriorating. One would think from their attitude that history, that great teacher of life, had taught them nothing.” They even seem to imagine that in the earlier days of the church and the world, “everything was as it should be so far as doctrine and morality and the Church’s rightful liberty were concerned.” If you don’t recognize those words,that is from Pope Saint John XXIII’s opening address tothe Second Vatican Council. What follows next I mustagree with. “We feel that We must disagree with these prophets of doom, who are always forecasting worsedisasters, as though the end of the world were at hand. Present indications are that the human family is on the threshold of a new era. We must recognize here thehand of God, who, as the years roll by, is ever directing humanity’s efforts, whether they realize it or not, towards the fulfillment of the inscrutable designs of His providence, wisely arranging everything, even adverse human fortune...”

I pray we can renew this spirit and its energy, and remain as always, prisoners of hope.

contemplation.com ~ 3

Prisoners of HopePrior Cyprian Consiglio, OSB Cam.

In one of my dispatches during the Dolan Fire last summer I used the phrase “prisoners of hope,” noting that evenafter all the crises we as a community have faced these past few years, I was still a prisoner of hope. A lot of people responded favorably to that phrase, and I suppose thought I had coined it myself. (Someone even suggested that we get hoodies made with that slogan emblazoned on the front.) But I actually got the phrase from the philosopher Cornel West, from a famous interview he gave in which he said, “I am a prisoner of hope. I’m going to die full of hope. There’s no doubt about that, because that is a choice I make. But at the same time, the end doesn’t look too good right now.” I would turn that phrase around and start with “The end doesn’t look too good right now,” then add “but I am a prisoner of hope. I’m going to die full of hope.”

A friend who was very close to the late Jesuit poet and peace activ-ist Daniel Berrigan said that he thought Profes-sor West had actually gotten that phrase from Berrigan. But one of our monks pointed out to me that it actually has its roots in the prophets, which is no surprise for either Berrigan or West. Specifically, Zechariah 9:12: Return to yourstronghold, O prisoners of hope; today I declare that I will restore to you double.

West also distinguishes between hope and optimism—optimism being a secular construct, a calculation of the probability of success. Hope, on the other hand, wrestles with despair, but it doesn’t generate optimism. It generates “energy to be courageous, to bear witness, to see what the end is going to be. No guarantee, unfinished, open-ended.” Vaclav Havel, the writer, former dissident, and first president of the Czech Republic, who should also know a thing or two about all this, writes something similar. He says hope is an “ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed.” Neither of them uses the word virtue, but that is my understanding of the cardinal virtue of hope as well. It is not a wish—and I still catch myself using that word in that sense often; it’s a surety. But it’s not “the conviction that something will turn out well,” as Havel continues, “but the certainty that some-thing makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” And I agree with Professor West; speaking of the other virtues, if faith is the content, and love is the action, then hope is the energy to keep going.

I’m going to die full of hope. There’s no doubt about that, because thatis a choice I make.

– Cornel West

All Shall Be Well: Boundless HopeJulian Washio-Collette, Oblate, OSB Cam.

Lately I’ve been thinking about hope in the context of facing the losses, pain, and disappointments of life, and how hope, narrowly understood, can actually be a hindrance to embracing life in its fullness. I think of my namesake, Julian of Norwich, the 14thcentury English mystic who lived through multiple waves of the Black Death that claimed the lives of so many of her contemporaries and cast a shadow of dread and terror upon those who survived.

Although little is known of her life, scholars speculate that she likely lost a husband and at least one child by the age of thirty, when she received her breakthrough visionary experience at death’s door while suffering from a life-threatening illness. At the point when she was fully willing to assent to death, certain she would pass at any

moment, she penetrated to a depth dimension where she underwent hours of spiritual revelations while gazing on a crucifix held before her by a local cleric. In a time and place so saturated by extreme suffering, death, and decay, with few signs of hope, Julian discovered a deeper hope that is wide enough to include all that we can ever endure.

In chapters 27–32 of Revelations of Divine Love, Julian writes of her struggle to comprehend Christ’s words to her that “all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” She exclaims, “Ah! Good Lord, how can all be well considering the great damage that has come by sin to your creatures?” We might well ask the same ques-tion, in our personal lives and relationships as well as on a global scale, as our world appears to be rapidly unravelling ecologically, socially, politically, and economically. She is made to understand that all truly means all, that “the least little thing shall not be forgotten.” Furthermore, strive as she or we might, we cannot comprehend the fullness of this all-inclusive hope. Within the limited scope of human thought and perception, we are “so blind, so lowly, and so stupid” that we cannot grasp the infinite horizon in which God’s well-making comes to fruition. Christ’s words are like those of a mother tenderly comforting a child, drawing us into a simple trust beyond understanding.

The hope of all things made well shatters our usual para-digm of hope. Typically, when I hope for something, I have a concrete outcome in mind. I may hope for health orhappiness for myself or for loved ones. I may hope forsatisfying work or the warmth and support of friendship and community. Whatever the object may be, hope implies a movement from a present sense of lack to changed


See, I am God.See, I am in everything.See, I do everything. See, I never lift my hands from my works, nor ever shall, without end.See, I lead all things to the end I ordained for it from without beginning by the same Power, Wisdom, andLove with which I made it.How would anything be amiss?

– Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love

“This boundless hope is less a future outcome than a yielding of thefinite self to its infinite groundin the present moment: in trust,I am invited to yield my hopes,desires, and aversions and rest in God’s ever-present, all-inclusive well-making now.”


conditions in the future, or to the ongoing maintenance of a present good that I dread to lose. Hope plots a course through time, and I experience disappointment when life fails to bring me a hoped-for outcome or something better. Hope therefore tends to yoke my consciousness to the limits of my expectations and emotional biases, compels me to pick and choose according to my desires, and militates against what I find aversive. Hope in this sense tends to narrow life down to the aperture of self.

On the other hand, hope of all things made well does not promise positive outcomes within the finite frame of self. Hope of all things made well, including “the least little thing,” strips me of picking and choosing what I am willing or not willing to embrace in my heart. This boundless hope is less a future outcome than a yielding of the finite self to its infinite ground in the present moment: in trust, I am invited to yield my hopes, desires, and aversions and rest in God’s ever-present, all-inclusive well-making now. This is a hope thatwells up from within as a zest for life, for participating inGod’s well-making regardless of perceivable outcomes, anda love of God in all things. “The fullness of joy is to beholdGod in all” (Chapter 35).

One of the surprising ways I have found to live into this hope of all things made well, of releasing my hopes, desires, and aversions into a wider embrace of the heart, is throughworking with a wise, compassionate therapist. The knotsof emotional pain and ungrieved losses, the unbearablesufferings of childhood and layers of evasion, denial, and flight, hold the finite self in patterns of contraction againstthe fullness of life and relationship. Alienation from my true self, from other people, from the natural world and from God is the consequence. I cannot uncover these knots and free up the vitality they contain on my own. The help I receive in this warm, supportive relationship is essential not only topsychological healing but to spiritual growth, to reconnecting with the interrelatedness of all that is and the dynamic flow of God breathing through all life.

Julian spent the rest of her years meditating on her visions and living in solitude as an anchoress. Her discovery of a God without wrath, a mothering God who nurtures all things into wholeness, became the foundation of her new life revived from the brink of death. Having been willing to release her-self entirely to death, she found the one thing necessary and chose to root herself in the love that makes all things well.

In a sense, we are each invited to make a similar journey, to plumb the depths where we still hold on to life on our terms and bargain with death. We are invited to that release into love where our finitude yields to God at the threshold of death. It is a blessing indeed when we find companions onthe way who help and accompany us on this journey. In such accompaniment, hope abounds.

Julian Washio-Collette and his wife Lisa, both oblates, are the current housekeepers at New Camaldoli Hermitage, where Julian can often be sighted gleefully riding his unicycle through the cloister. Prior to coming to Big Sur, Julian and Lisa lived and worked at the San Jose Catholic Worker. He holds a master’s degree in monastic studies from Saint John’s School of Theology and Seminary in Collegeville, MN.

Little Bird, Listen

What do you hear, little bird?

Have you found the Dharma gate,

stone rolled away?

Morning and evening,

from this Douglas Fir

you warble.

Where does the night fall?

Tell me how your life

is too short to see

the way this forest will change,

how this all will fall, crack

boil, break, melt.

Is your lament, just another verse?

Tell me not to despair-

sing as though the earth

knows what it knows.

I complain, you chirp.

Half moon,

two birds

I and Thou.

– Ziggy Rendler-Bregman

2020


Exercises in EmpathyJim Micheletti

We call the men inside CTF Soledad Prison our "Brothers in Blue." For the past eight years, we at Palma School have been going inside to read and discuss literature with men in circles we call families. They are men of amends—Lifers, mostly, who’ve served what they call Buck Rogers’s time, usually 20 years or more “down.” The men we work with own the idea that violations create obligations. The Brothers meet with the victims and survivors of violence who com-mand their best attention, contrition, and action for the common good. The Brothers in Blue we know have so valued our ongoing relationship that they sponsored a scholar-ship for a student to attend Palma. Over 270 men inside participated. They collected some $38,000 from jobs inside the prison that pay, on average, 25–30 cents per hour.

When we first went in, we didn’t go in with an agenda but rather ears open to their stories, which are often about trauma and the hopelessness of being unloved. We’ve learned from the Brothers in Blue how to answer hurt with the healing power of hope. I’ve come to see our time inside as a parable of hope, one we are humbled to help write through our participation. Students who go in weekly report that their time inside the prison is their most meaningful classroom, leaving a deep impression.

Every time we enter and leave the prison, the 100 or so men we work with line up and shake our hands. For me this means one hand extended to a Brother in Blue in good faith and the other raised to my face to clear my tears. Maybe, I’ve learned, the best way to learn hope isto shake hands with this virtue by ritual inside this palace of pain. The deep life lesson for me here is that hope,

especially, is a virtue best learned in practice in the imme-diacy of touching human skin. Solidarity, it seems, commu-nicates truth faster by handshake than it does through the brain’s complex circuitry.

We’ve taken our entire Palma faculty in for workshop retreats twice, and in 2020 Sacramento gave the prison permission for two Lifers in shackles to be escorted to our Palma School chapel to speak to our students. We were told by the authorities that this hasn’t been done before in California, and quite possibly anywhere in the nation. The event ended with the Brothers in Blue standing where

Father usually stands when placing the Eucharist in our hands. Students lined up to shake hands with the Broth-ers there. These handshakes proved extra heavy because of the shackles and the presence of an armed guard just a few feet away. They were extra heavy because Christ’s words “I was in prison and you visited me” and, to the Good Thief, “This day you will be with Me in paradise” were eucharisted, meaning spiritually charged. The collective sense of hope rising seemed extra “love your enemies” Christlike when Warden Koenig and several of the guards

shook hands with the Brothers in Blue after the students. Wait, did they just learn from the students’ example? Did the lion just lie down with the lamb here? What would it look like in jails and prisons if the guards were encouraged to shake hands with the men and see their role more as counselors andadvocates than as enforcers? We call our program “Exercises in Empathy,” which inside the prison we define as “your pain in my heart.” The sine qua non of empathy is hope. Why? Because using our best imagination to feel, think, and experience what we can of anoth-er person’s life carries the promise


of acting on this awareness for the healing of all. Exercises in part is a nod to The Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius Loyola, which places high importance on imagination to create closeness with the Christ of compassion. Exercises in Empathy has received national attention, and we are

grateful that the public notices and finally seems to be gathering momentum in addressing mass incarceration and all its intersections with racism, and the needs to attend to mental health and repair the false idea that punishment has any positive purpose for civilization. Show me someone who believes in punishment and I’ll show you someone who has given up on hope for humanity. Reasonable conse-quences, rehabilitation, sobriety and accountability, anger management, training in nonviolence, education, and healing , yes. Punishment, no.

Exercises in Empathy has been fea-tured on Lisa Ling’s show This is Life on CNN and in another 20 or so televi-sion shows and newspapers, from the Washington Post to Newsradio WSGW in Saginaw, Missouri. Even President Obama cited our work on Twitter, say-ing, “And here’s a story that reminds us of the power of fresh starts, com-munity, and the good that’s in all of us, across the country and around the world.” Hope, we’ve learned from the Brothers in Blue, is the promise of a fresh start, because a human being is always more than his worst action. If a man is defined by his worst action, or actions, then he is created in the image and likeness of the god who is hate rather than the God who is love. The god of hate has played a heavy hand in the state of the prison system, with an unjust emphasis on sentencing and punishment over programs and hope.

Hope, as illuminated by the Brothers in Blue, is love made visible, meaning God breaking in as pain-to-possibility and the opportunity to parole into a community that cares, in-cluding caring enough to go inside and express their care in an equal exchange of ideas from shared stories. Roy Du-

ran, a Brother in Blue and Lifer we know well, says it best: “I am not a prisoner. I am a man in prison.” He credits this hopeful shift in consciousness to programs and education, and particularly to his time with us in Exercises in Empathy.

In “The Holy Longing,” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe writes, “And so long as you haven’t experienced / this: to die and so to grow, / you are only a troubled guest / on the dark earth.” There can be growth from death. Our visits inside the prison have served us—as empathists in training—this experience up close with skin on it. One way of seeing sin is to frame it as incar-ceration, as separation and isolation from a community that cares. We all experience isolation by degree based on our deci-sions. That we all share this as part of our human condition, and that we can imagine

freedom while in the darkest of man-made places, strikes me as the very call of Christ in lives shared, dared closer to one another.

Jim Micheletti is an educator with over 30 years of experience with diverse learners from elementary school to university, in public and private schools; advanced placement and gifted and talented students; and students labeled “unteachable” and incarcerated. He lives in Monterey with his wife Lisa and has two daughters, Kristin and Sophia. He holds MAs in education and theology and is a graduate of Bellarmine College Prep, Santa Clara University, and Loyola University in New Orleans.


my expectations for and assumptions of my life and its purpose. Grief is not for the faint of heart, and it encom-passed for me not merely a void, but a chasm. Hope then proffered a new path up from the depths and fostered interiority.

This—and all of those extraordinary events —can leave one metaphorically naked…the framework of one’s life crumbled: spouse dead, children grown, and career supplanted by retirement. Fr. James Martin, SJ, in Becoming Who You Are speaks to “accepting yourself as God created you” and seeking your “intrinsic nature that is concealed by false narratives.“1 These self-narratives act as one-way, protective filters between us and the “real” world, and in my experience are formed over a lifetime of myriad activities. Fr. Bede Healey’s essay in The Privilege of Love2 impressed upon me the importance of stripping away the defenses we all develop to engage in the world in order to have sincere relationships with God and in our communities. But it was Viktor Frankl, a Jewish psychiatrist who survived Auschwitz, and his memoir and analysis of the experience in Man’s Search for Meaning3 that brought home the positive in demolishing one’s facades. Frankl underscored the importance of acknowledging the new reality in order to survive it, rather than hiding within or lamenting what was lost. Stripping away the past andacknowledging reality distills purpose, which gives life meaning. Resilience to a new reality—no matter how challenging—comes out of purpose. Here was meaningto the loss…the possibility of building anew.

Building anew means acknowledging there is a future, so hope is forward-looking. The Bible refers to hope frequently. Paul in his letters to the Corinthians, Thessalonians, and Romans refers to the three theological virtues faith, hope,

Hope...from the HeartKaren Rockey

It seemed a daunting task when I was asked to write on hope to a community that includes theologians, academic and applied psychology practitioners, and many literature enthusi-asts. I hope those with more professional experience will show mercy toward my musings on hope in its many permutations.

Through the loving kindness of our Godthe Dayspring from on high shall visit us, illumining those in darkness and shadowed by deathand guiding our steps in the path of peace.

– Camaldolese Psalter, Benedictus, Luke 1:78–79

What is hope? At the risk of seeming irreverent andparaphrasing a famous dictum from the sixties—we know it when we feel it. Commonplace usage of the word —andthe Merriam-Webster definition—implies “to hope” isto express a wish…“I hope you feel better soon.” Thecommonly used phrase “Hope springs eternal” has deeper roots and points to our need for it when one’s reality is dark. I found myself in a radically changed reality inmid-2018 and was drawn to hope due to its potential for a positive, transformative outcome. Hope is subjective; we may each describe the experience differently, but is therea common thread?

Staring down my own experience and seeking other per-spectives on hope seemed labyrinthine…while the entrance is evident, the exit is by no means certain. I delved into the Bible, the recommended readings for Camaldolese oblate discernment, and references in literature and psychology. The readings exposed a certain consistency across varied authors that in turn underscored concepts and words to share my own appreciation for hope’s presence in our outward life and inward spirituality.

Hope is rarely discussed when we are happy and our lives are proceeding as expected. No, it is strong, but negative emotions such as fear and despair are the genesis of hope. What plunges us into darkness to such an extent that we become disoriented and our existence radically reordered? Many of us have experienced major grief and an uncertain path forward. Significant despair-inducing events include loss of a loved one due to illness or accident; loss of a home, steeped in memories; loss of one’s community,ravaged by an actual storm or the storm that has been Covid this past year; loss of a deeply loved job providing community, shared purpose, and personal definition.

My loss? The death of my spouse of nearly 40 years. He left early one Monday morning on an all-day motorcycle tour in the mountains bordering Wyoming and Idaho, failed to return that night and was only found after a five-county search over 300 miles of road. An air patrol found his motorcycle off the highway and hidden by high grass three days after his accident. My search and its outcome—like so many of those experiences cited above—stripped away

“Man does not simply exist but always decides whathis existence will be, what he will become the next moment. By the sametoken, every human being has the freedom to change at any instant.”

– Viktor Frankl


and love, of which the greatest is the last. The USCCB in its footnote to 1 Corinthians 13:13 says this is because love infuses faith and hope.4 Hope, in anticipating the future, relies upon trust in God’s love. But the New Tes-tament interpretation of hope doesn’t explain nascent stirrings of hope in me in 2019. It is essentially presented in an eschatological context focused on union with Jesus in the imminently anticipated second coming of Jesus.

Many Old Testament books describe dire circumstances and a positive outcome due to the Israelites’ lamentation and appeal to God. Psalm 62:6–7 specifically calls out the origin of hope in “…my soul be at rest in God alone, from whom comes my hope. God alone is my rock and my salvation.”5 Irene Nowell, OSB, in Pleading, Cursing, Praising devotes chapter 3 “Crying Out Our Pain” to grief, lamentation, and turning to God for a solution. Lamenta-tion psalms, according to Nowell, typically conclude in confidence and with thanksgiving. A substantial portionof chapter 3 focuses on Psalm 51, which Nowell states “is one of the most hopeful prayers in the psalter.”6 In her analysis, the psalmist is asking God “to make me new,” a total surrender to the will of God, to the new reality in effect. Hope then offers a spiritual overlay to rebuilding/ renewing oneself after being cleansed, literally scrubbed raw in Nowell’s interpretation. My special pleasure is reading, so I turned to literature for insight: One of the first essays to come to mind was Alexander Pope’s (1688–1744) An Essay on Man, Epistle 1, Ch. III,7 and in particular his phrase “Hope springs eternal in the human breast.” A renowned man of letters in Eng-land’s early Georgian period, Pope was also a Catholic (in an era when Catholics were denied formal education) and crippled from the age of 12 by a spinal tuberculosis infection that left him a mere 4’6” in physical stature. The Poetry Foundation states that this epistle and his earlier An Essay on Criticism, from 1711, “articulate many of the central tenets of 18th-century aesthetic and moral philosophy”:8

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore! What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest: The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

– Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man (1733–34)

The Poetry Foundation goes on to say it makes an “argu-ment for the existence of order in the world, contending that we know the world to be unified because Godcreated it.”

J.R.R. Tolkien (1892–1973) was a close friend of C.S. Lewis and an Oxford don specializing in Old English literature.He drew on his experiences of loss in WWI and his

academic expertise to create a world of eternal and temporal beings to explore hope in the face of adversity. Those of you familiar with his book The Lord of the Rings might recall that Estel, meaning “hope,” is the childhood name of one of its protagonists Aragorn. Its meaning is not explained in The Lord of the Rings, but the Tolkien legendarium and posthumously published Morgoth’s Ring9 include a philosophical discussion between Finrod, an elven king preparing for battle, and Andreth, a wise but mortal woman.

“Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth” (The Debate of Finrod and Andreth, written c. 1959) addresses the imbalances in the respective fates of elves and men, the dire times, and two different concepts of hope. As Finrod explains to Andreth, there is Amdir—the ordinary hope, founded in experience and the expectation that the chance of something good happening is not extremely poor, enabling the elves to hope for an outcome other than the bad—and Estel, a hope founded deeper and based on trust…“It is notdefeated by the ways of the world, for it does not come from experience, but from our nature and first being. If we are indeed the Eruhin, the children of the One, then he will not suffer himself deprived of his own, not by any enemy, not even by ourselves. This is the last foundation of Estel, which we keep even when we contemplate the end: of all his designs the issue must be for his children’s joy.”10

Last in my sampling of authors, but by no means least, is Thomas Merton. In Becoming Who You Are, James Martin pointed me to Merton’s book He Is Risen. This seemingly simple 59-page poetic meditation on the Resurrectionaddresses hope thus:

True encounter with Christ liberates something in us, a power we did not know we had, a hope, a capacity for life, a resilience, an ability to bounce back when we thought we were completely defeated, a capacity to grow and change, a power of creative transformation.

So here we have it…Hope encompasses a transformative event that strips away all our defenses and ways of filter-ing or interacting with reality. That event imposes on us a new reality that we accede to in order to resolve a new purpose. This strengthens us and fosters the resilience we need to navigate uncharted terrain in confidence that God has a plan.

For me, newfound purpose has been shaped by Cyprian Consiglio’s Prayer in the Cave of the Heart, and in particular his reference in chapter 4, entitled “Continual Prayer —The Desert,” to Abba Isaac’s formula for contemplation: “O God,


come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me”(Ps. 70:1). These words contain:

…an invocation of God in the face of any crisis,the humility of a devout confession,the watchfulness of concern and of constant fear,a consciousness of one’s own frailty,the assurance of being heard,and confidence in a protection that is always presentand at hand.

This prayer embodies hopefulness in its trust, its presump-tion of God’s omnipresent love, and its acceptance of God’s will, encompassing the new reality. It is the inspiration to look within ourselves; to listen for the Holy Spirit; to build interiority from the ground up on the stripped-down foundation of one’s prior life. To paraphrase Bede Healey in The Privilege of Love, we accept others as they are in accepting reality, “find ourselves and encounter God. We are transformed.” Bede calls this “a potential space co-created by God and ourselves…where we can be our truest self and pray. This ground of encounter with God… is part of our heart.”11 Rebuilding is neither quick nor easy, and chapter 6, “The Soul’s Ascent to God,” in Prayer in the Cave of the Heart references St. John of the Cross’s stages—purgative, illuminative, and unitive—as a framework. Hope for me is God’s healing grace drawing us through the purgative to the illuminative stage and toward a purposeful relationship with God.

Karen Rockey climbed Cascade Range peaks in her youth,navigated the canyons of Manhattan as a finance professional for 30 years, and returned to the Mountain West in retirement at the behest of her husband, who found spiritual solace at 10,000 feet. She’s blessed with a home surrounded by abundant grasslands, wildlife, and natural beauty that she keeps as a respite for herthree mid-millennial children, family, and friends to visit and also fosters ample appreciation for God’s creation.

1 James Martin, SJ, Becoming Who You Are: Insights on the True Self from Thomas Merton and Other Saints (New York/Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2006).2 Bede Healey, “Psychological Investigations and Implications for LivingTogether Alone” in The Privilege of Love: Camaldolese Benedictine Spirituality, ed. Peter-Damian Belisle (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2002).3 Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning (Boston: Beacon Press, 1959–2006). 4 “1 Corinthians,” United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, bible.usccb.org/bible/1corinthians/13. 5 “Psalms,” United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, bible.usccb.org/bible/psalms/62 6 Irene Nowell, OSB, Pleading, Cursing, Praising (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2013).7 “An Essay on Man: Epistle I,” Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44899/an-essay-on-man-epistle-i.8 “Alexander Pope,” Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/alexander-pope. 9 J.R.R.Tolkien, Morgoth’s Ring (History of Middle-Earth, Vol. 10), ed. Christopher Tolkien, (New York: HarperCollins, 2002).10 www.tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Athrabeth_Finrod_ah_Andreth 11 Peter-Damian Belisle, Ed., The Privilege of Love: Camaldolese Benedictine Spirituality; Bede Healey, Psychological Investigations and Implications for Living Together Alone (Collegeville, MN, Liturgical Press, 2002).

Dear friends,

I am writing this last newsletter submission as I sit in my small cabin in Big Arm, Montana, overlooking the beautiful and massive Flathead Lake. It was a journey through DNA, ancestry, and a lot of searching for my roots that brought me to this place. Having been adopted in Los Angeles at birth, it took me 56 years to find my biological father with the help of a DNA detective. Although he is deceased, I was able to trace my paternal lineage back four generations to homesteaders in Montana. Suddenly everything made sense to me: my love of snow, wide-open spaces, cabin life, horses, and farms, just to name a few of the things I love in Montana. I have found my true home.

I started making plans to relocate and informed the Hermit-age of my decision. Thankfully they were incredibly open to my working remotely while looking for my replacement.

I am so grateful for all the years I have shared with theNew Camaldolicommunity. I have had the opportunity to get to know many of you in person andvia email, phonecalls, and mailcorrespondence. I have been so touched by thegenerosity extended to the Hermitage

during my time here. We have truly weathered manystorms together, and I will always reflect on my time at the Hermitage with a warm heart and fond memories.

Please help me welcome Gabe Quiroz aboard as our new development manager.I am wishing Gabe and the Hermitage all the success in the future.

With gratitude,Jill

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you hope and a future.”

– Jeremiah 29:11


Activities and Visitors Due to the pandemic restrictions, there was still very little movement on and off the property this winter.

APRILFr. Cyprian gave a retreat for St. John’s Seminary in Camarillo; we warmly and gladly welcomed Br. James Makil back into the formation program; Br. Jim Marra filmed a concert of classicalpiano music at Cass Winery. MAYWe had our first Recreation Day outing in over a year—olive oil tasting at Pasolivo in Paso Robles; Fr. Ignatius spent an extended time with our brothers at the Monastery of the Risen Christ; we welcomed our first in-cloister guests since the pandemic shutdown; Fr. Isaiah traveled to Arizona to participate in his nephew’s wedding.

JUNECyprian led a retreat for the Benedictines in Nebraska; we had an All-Camaldolese Gathering in June for two days, with a presenta-tion by author Professor Robert Inchausti; we welcomed two Ora et Labora participants, and also welcomed Will Hunter into the formation program; Br. Martin made a family visit to the East Coast. On the 24th, our beloved long-time resident oblate Therese

Gagnon died.

JULYJames spent time with the brothers at Incarnation. On the 2nd we had a beautiful celebration of Therese’s life at a Mass, followed by a picnic lunch attended by many friends and oblates.

What the Monks Are ReadingFr. Cyprian: The Sunne in Splendour by Sharon Kay Penman; The Word on Fire Vatican II Collection by Robert Barron

Br. Martin: Peace on Earth by Saint Pope John XXIII; Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy

Fr. Isaiah: Tempest-Tost by Robertson Davies; “With A Father’s Heart,” Apostolic Letter of Pope Francis on St Joseph

Fr. Thomas: Silence by John Cage; A Year from Monday by John Cage

Br. Will Hunter: Biography of Silence by Pablo d’Ors

Staff Lisa Washio-Collette: Moving in the Spirit: Becoming a Contemplative in Action by Richard J. Hauser

Rich Veum: The Pillars of The Earth by Ken Follett; Smart is the New Rich by Steve Jurich

The triannual newsletter is published by theCamaldolese Hermits of America for our friends, oblates, and sponsors.

Director: Prior Cyprian Consiglio, OSB Cam. Editor: Lisa Benner, Oblate, OSB Cam.Editing Team: Caitlin Lorenc, Phil McManus, andBr. Martin HerbekDesign: Debi LorencDevelopment: Jill Gisselere

PhotosCover, pages 3, 8, 11: Debi LorencPage 2: Lisa BennerPage 4: ”More Than Enough” by Nancy Torsenis licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0: Lisa Wahio-Collette

If you have questions or comments, please email [email protected].

New Camaldoli Hermitage62475 Highway 1Big Sur, CA 93920

Visit us at www.contemplation.com and“New Camaldoli Hermitage” on Facebook.

Will Hunter, who has started his probationary year with us in formation, and Nic Feddema, a vocation candidate who was with us, serving as acolytes on the feast of Saint Romuald.

The theological virture of hope is the patient and trustful willingness to live without closure, without resolution, and still be content and even happy becuase our Satisfaction is now at another level, and our Source is beyond ourselves.

– Richard Rohr

In this new work, more homiletic in nature than his previous books,Cyprian explores how the theme of self-emptying lies at the root of not only Christian spirituality but spiritual-ity in general. This material has also been the basis for several retreats he has given in the past year.

Available at the Hermitage bookstore and online.

Based on notes kept for over sixty years by Robert Hale, an earlyAmerican novice at New Camaldoli Hermitage, letters from the hermitage archives, and extensive interviews with monks, The Hermitsof Big Sur tells the compelling storyof what unfolds within this smalland idealistic community whenmedievalism must finally come to terms with modernism. “Absolutely fascinating, gorgeously written, frequently brilliant. In her

story of how an ancient monastic order found a home inCalifornia, and how the author found a home with them, Paula Huston offers us an invitation into a world that few see, but all will want to experience.” – James Martin, SJ, author of Learningto Pray

Paula’s book will be available in the bookstore and online in October.

New Books from our Community Authors

new camaldoli hermitage

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