The Eremitical Life in Ethiopia

“Though it has long since disappeared in the West, the eremitical life is still widespread in Ethiopia. The cenobitical monks and indeed the ordinary people regard the hermitage as Man’s highest abode on earth, and often monks seem fearful at the possibility of God calling them to it.

In almost every monastery there are a number of monks – perhaps one tenth of the total-who confine themselves to their cells. They are described as “the monks who never see the sun.” They have no responsibilities within the community and do not attend the daily common prayers. Food is brought to their huts each day by a single monk permanently designated to the task, and the hermit only emerges for the Mass in church on Sundays and feast days. Usually their cells are within the monastery compound, though sometimes they are a short distance away: at Debre Damo, for instance, hermits can be seen in apparently inaccessible caves in the sheer cliff beneath the monastery.

Other monks or lay people can visit them (if they can reach their cell), and even today many of the rulers of Ethiopia, including the Emperor himself, frequently seek the advice of these hermits on both spiritual and temporal matters.
Besides these monastic hermits, there are countless holy men (ba’atawi) living in remote forests and caves throughout Ethiopia. These men have totally rejected human contact, and if they ever visit a church they “come by night, crawling through the undergrowth so as not to be seen.” as an admiring priest described it. They live only on the wild fruits and herbs which Nature provides.

A few of these holy men are ordained monks who have left their communities, but mostly they are lay people – as another monk put it, “God has called them to holiness from nothing, as Christ called Peter and Paul.””

From: Robert Van de Weyer “The monastic community of Ethiopia” Full text available on-line at: https://tseday.wordpress.com/tag/hermits/

For Ethiopian Hermits, see: https://citydesert.wordpress.com/?s=ethiopia

The Man Who Quit Money

Mark Sundeen “The Man Who Quit Money” [Riverhead Books, 2012]

“In 2000, Daniel Suelo left his life savings-all thirty dollars of it-in a phone booth. He has lived without money-and with a newfound sense of freedom and security-ever since. The Man Who Quit Money is an account of how one man learned to live, sanely and happily, without earning, receiving, or spending a single cent. Suelo doesn’t pay taxes, or accept food stamps or welfare. He lives in caves in the Utah canyonlands, forages wild foods and gourmet discards. He no longer even carries an I.D. Yet he manages to amply fulfill not only the basic human needs-for shelter, food, and warmth-but, to an enviable degree, the universal desires for companionship, purpose, and spiritual engagement. In retracing the surprising path and guiding philosophy that led Suelo into this way of life, Sundeen raises provocative and riveting questions about the decisions we all make, by default or by design, about how we live-and how we might live better.”

“Daniel James Shellabarger (known as Daniel Suelo, or simply Suelo, and The Man Who Quit Money, born 1961) is an American simple living adherent who stopped using money in the autumn of 2000. He was born in Arvada, Colorado, a suburb of Denver, and currently lives part-time in a cave near Moab, Utah when he is not wandering the country.
Suelo gained fame in October 2009 when his profile appeared in the US men’s style print magazine “Details”. This story was picked up by websites such as “The Guardian” in the UK, “The Huffington Post”, and Matador Change. He was also interviewed for the BBC in September 2009, by “The Denver Post” in November 2009, and the Brazilian INFO in November 2009. His story has since been repeated by many websites and news agencies around the world. Suelo was the subject of a 2006 video profile entitled “Moneyless in Moab” (2006), by Gordon Stevenson and a 2009 video profile entitled “Zero Currency” (2009), by Brad Barber as well as being featured on KBYU’s Beehive Stories (2010), also by Brad Barber.
Penguin approached Suelo about writing an autobiography, but he said that he would not accept payment for telling his story and he would be interested to do so only if the book was given away for free. Penguin was not interested in this approach, but asked a friend of his, Mark Sundeen, about writing a biography. Sundeen wrote “The Man Who Quit Money”, which was published by Riverhead/Penguin in 2012, and Suelo did not accept any money from his book but requested that the publishers give away a number of copies to people for free, which they did at promotional book tours. A short film about Suelo, narrated by Mark Sundeen, is on BBC News Online.
Suelo is one of a number of individuals who voluntarily live without money. These also include Heidemarie Schwermer, Mark Boyle and Tomi Astikainen. Suelo appeared as a guest writer on Mark Boyle’s blog in January 2011.”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suelo

“When I first heard the story of Daniel Suelo, I was immediately intrigued. After all, Daniel lives entirely without money and has done so for the past 12 years. In 2000, he put his entire life savings in a phone booth, walked away, and has lived moneyless ever since. Most frequently, he lives in the caves and wilderness of Utah where he eats wild vegetation, scavenges roadkill, pulls food from dumpsters, and is sometimes fed by friends and strangers. Daniel proudly boasts that he does not take food stamps or government handouts.
I found myself very interested in hearing what he has learned from the experience and how it might inspire me in my own journey to live with fewer possessions. So I contacted Daniel to see if I could ask him a few questions about his life and what views on money and possessions have shaped his existence. He graciously agreed. This is how our conversation went:
1) Earlier this year, your story was documented in a book titled “The Man Who Quit Money”. I opened this interview with a brief introduction. Am I missing anything here Daniel? Anything I should be adding to help us get a better understanding of who you are and the life you have chosen to live?
I don’t care for the statement, “Daniel proudly boasts that he does not take food stamps or government handouts,” because it can be construed that I put myself above those who must take food stamps or government handouts. I don’t judge those who do. I merely mention that I don’t take government assistance for the sake of those who might think I’m living on their tax dollars. I do boast about having few possessions and no money, because it’s ironic fun to boast about nothing special (wild creatures, after all, have few possessions or money and it really feels like no big deal), and to boast about what the rest of our commercial society debases.
I will add that I do make a small exception to taking government handouts: I use the public library to maintain my blog, website, do emails, and read books. This does cause ire in people searching for loopholes in my lifestyle. In my blog comments, a woman once responded to their anger by declaring that she pays taxes and doesn’t use the library, and that she donates all her library time to me. Then they were quiet.
2) I find it interesting that so many of the articles highlighting your story include something similar to this line: Suelo “came from a good family and has been to college. He was not mentally ill, nor an addict. His decision appears to have been an act of free will by a competent adult.” So, for starters, you are clearly not a crazy man. Correct?
A crazy man does not think himself crazy, so my opinion on the matter is meaningless. People will have to judge my sanity for themselves.
But it would be nice if we lived in a world that considered it crazy to cause harm to ourselves, others, and our environment or to praise those who do cause such harm. Then we’d have to say we live in a truly crazy civilization. A sane society would consider it crazy to kill living things and destroy food and water supplies in order to amass something that nobody can eat or drink, like gold, silver, and money. It’s crazy to sacrifice reality to the idol of illusion.
3) The thinking that led to your journey into willful moneylessness evolved by degrees during your travels. Could you share with us some of the foundational beliefs that have evolved in your life that led you to make this decision to give up money entirely?
My first thought of living moneyless came when I was a child. In my Evangelical Christian upbringing, I wondered why, if we were followers of Jesus, we didn’t practice his teachings–namely giving up possessions and doing not for the sake of reward (money and barter), but giving freely and receiving freely.
When I left home for college, I studied other religions and found that all the world’s major religions teach giving up possessions and doing not for the sake of reward. If all the separated witnesses are saying the same thing, it must be true. Ironically, few practice the one thing they all agree upon in word. What would happen if we actually practiced this stuff, I thought.
My dad also took us camping a lot, and I was a nature freak. I couldn’t help but see how perfectly balanced nature was, and it ran on no money. Why, then, couldn’t we?
As an adult, I thought it through more thoroughly. Nature’s economy is a pay-it-forward economy. This means one sows, another reaps, ad infinitum. For example, a bear takes a raspberry, and the raspberry bush demands nothing in return. The Bear takes with zero sense of obligation, zero guilt. The bear then poops somewhere else, not only providing food for soil organisms, but also propagating raspberry seeds. You never see 2 wild creatures consciously bartering. There are no accountants worrying what the bush will get in return. This is exactly why it works, because nobody knows how it works! There is no consciousness of credit and debt in nature. Consciousness of credit and debt is knowledge of good and evil, valuing one thing and devaluing another. Consciousness of credit and debt is our fall from Grace. Grace means gratis, free gift.
My next impetus for living moneyless came from observing the world economy and politics. Do our economy and politics function well? It’s self-evident, isn’t it?
My next impetus for living moneyless was to find authenticity for myself. To do out of one’s heart is to be real. To do for somebody, expecting something from them, is ulterior motivation, which is to not be real, which is to prostitute oneself.
My last impetus for living moneyless was to heal myself. Okay, I guess I’ll talk about my craziness. To heal myself was to first see myself as crazy, and only them could I become free of craziness. I was suffering clinical depression. Mental illness is rooted in having unnecessary, thoughts and to let go of unnecessary thoughts is to free oneself from mental illness. This is basic Buddhist philosophy. It is the philosophy of all the ancient religions. To cling to thoughts is to possess thoughts and this outwardly manifests itself in having unnecessary physical possessions. We accumulate what we don’t need out of fear and anxiety. This is true craziness. Unnecessary thoughts and unnecessary physical possessions (including possessing people) are inextricably linked. To accumulate unnecessary possessions is not to live in abundance, as we’re led to believe, but is to live in scarcity. Why would we have too much stuff if we believed the universe was abundant? Why would we worry if we weren’t crazy? Worry is simply lack of faith, faith that everything we need is in the here and now.
4) Your spirituality is clearly an important part of your journey. In what ways, have your spiritual beliefs strengthened you for this journey and lifestyle?
I mentioned above that this is about faith. Faith is eliminating unnecessary thought, trusting that everything we need comes as we need it, whether it is the right thoughts or the right possessions. Faith is being grounded in the Eternal Present. This is the common truth of the world’s religions.
5) What are some of the most important lessons about money/people/society you have personally learned over the past 12 years? And did any of these lessons surprise you?
Most important is that I’ve learned our true nature lives moneyless, giving freely and receiving freely. Even the most staid CEO is human underneath, and gives and receives freely with friends and family. By cultivating this nature in myself, I can see it in others, and it can be cultivated in others. When our real selves are cultivated, the gift economy is cultivated, our unreal selves (based on ulterior motivation) and all the nonsense drops away.
I have been surprised at the intensely angry reaction thousands of people have had at my living moneyless. It used to bother me, but now I realize that anger doesn’t come from people’s true nature, but from the facade they build up. The facade is threatened by reality. Who wants to hear that the basis of our commercial civilization is an illusion? Money only exists if two or more people believe it exists. Money is not a physical substance, but merely a belief in the head. Money is credit, and credit literally means belief (e.g. credibility). Money is literally a creed, the most agreed-upon creed, or religion, in the world. And what fundamentalists won’t get angry if you question their creed?
6) The reality of today’s society is that most people will never make the full leap into moneylessness like you have. Do you believe that your lifestyle still offers important inspiration for individuals and families? And if so, in what ways?
As I said, we all live moneyless at our core, in our everyday actions with friends, family, and even strangers. People tell me almost every day that they find living this way inspiring and even comforting. Even if people don’t intend on giving up money, they can still find that it isn’t the end of the world if they lose their money. If you are not religious, it is comforting to be reminded that life has flourished in balance for millions of years without money, and why should it fall apart without money now? Nature evolved you from an amoeboid to a human over millions of years, with zero money, so why should nature give up on you now? How is it that, when natural disasters (tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis) hit towns and cities, people suddenly forget about money and start helping each other? It’s comforting that we have a true nature beneath the falseness and ulterior motivation of commercial civilization.
And if you are religious, it’s comforting to know there is profound truth at the core of your religion (whether Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Taoist, Sikh) that actually works if you practice it, that it isn’t all a lie. If we don’t practice the core truth of giving up possessions and ulterior motivation that every religion teaches, then of course our religion becomes a destructive lie, as we see all around us.
7) What are the practical steps individuals can take to free themselves from their pursuit (and bondage) to money – even if they will never live entirely moneyless?
People get overwhelmed unless they realize that all the tools they have are here and now, and steps can be taken right here and now.
Everybody, no matter how entrenched they are in the money system, can freely give and freely receive. Freely giving and freely receiving is our true nature, is true human-ness. And everybody is human. As I said earlier, it’s about being real, cultivating our true nature, and everything else falls into place, and all the falsehood drops away, no matter what station in life people are in. Even if somebody is totally skeptical about what I am doing, I challenge them to make it their goal to be totally real, with themselves and with every human interaction, and I propose they will then know whether or not I’m living a pipe dream.
Somebody once commented that our cities and towns could not function without money. But I say they and the world can’t function right now in the present system.
Take classic American suburbia, for example. People don’t know their neighbors, and everybody has their own cars, computers, TVs, lawn mowers, washing machines, etc, etc, as well as stockpiles of food and land they could grow food on. All we need is right here, but the only thing that’s holding us back is not physical reality, but belief, dogma. What if we actually spoke to our neighbors and agreed to share, like we learned in kindergarten and in church? What if we realized we could share cars, computers, washing machines, have dinners together, etc, which would not only save us expense, but would save expense on the environment, and, as a bonus, put smiles on our lonely faces? Then cities and technology would start serving us, rather than us serving them. But what’s holding us back? Not reality, not scarcity, but only our thinking!
As far as going all the way and living without money, people often ask me to teach them survival skills. Often I feel like I don’t know many skills, that it’s really about determination and getting up the confidence more than actual skill. Sometimes I tell folks to imagine something really silly: what if somebody offered you a million dollars to live without money for a year? I guarantee most people would figure out how to do it, skilled or no. This is about finding a determination, a motivation greater than a million dollars!
8) I’m curious how concerned you are about spreading this message of living free from money…
Yes, I now have a strong urge to spread the message. At first I just wanted to live my own life, whether or not anybody else took notice or not. Then I realized a message was errupting in me that I could no more suppress than an erupting volcano. Our society is not sustainable and we are not only heading rapidly into, but most the world has already reached disaster, due directly to our being trapped by our own beliefs. I want to shout this out to the world. But talk isn’t enough. It must be talk with action, right now. We could debate whether or not Paul Revere was trying to gain attention for himself, or we could simply take notice that the British are invading and we have to get off our butts!

From: Joshua Becker “The Man Who Quit Money: An Interview with Daniel Suelo” becomingminimalist Full text available on-line at:

The Man Who Quit Money: An Interview with Daniel Suelo

Daniel Suelo’s Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/themanwhoquitmoney
Living Without Money website: https://sites.google.com/site/livingwithoutmoney/

Walden on Wheels

Ken Ilgunas “Walden on Wheels: On the Open Road from Debt to Freedom” [New Harvest, 2013]

“The story of a student who went to extraordinary lengths – including living in a van on a campus parking lot – to complete his education without sacrificing his financial future. In a frank and self-deprecating voice, memoirist Ken Ilgunas writes about the existential terror of graduating from college with $32,000 in student debt. Inspired by Thoreau, Ilgunas set himself a mission: get out of debt as soon as humanly possible. To that end, he undertook an extraordinary 3-year transcontinental journey, driving to Alaska and taking a series of low-paying jobs. Debt-free, Ilgunas then enrolled himself in a master’s program at Duke University, using the last of his savings to buy himself a used Econoline, his new “dorm.” The van, stationed in a campus parking lot, would be an adventure, a challenge, a test of his limits. It would be, in short, his “Walden on Wheels.” Ilgunas went public in a widely read Salon article that spoke to the urgent student debt situation in America today. He offers a funny and pointed perspective on the dilemma faced by those who seek an education but who also want to, as Thoreau wrote, “live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.””

““Walden on Wheels” is a self-deprecating travel memoir about a five-year period of my life when I dealt with student debt.

To pay off my $32,000 student debt with a useless liberal arts degree from the University at Buffalo, I move to a remote work camp in Coldfoot, Alaska, where I work as a maid, cook, and tour guide. Later, I hitchhike 5,500 miles across the continent, canoe across Ontario, Canada with “voyageurs” (people who live and dress like the 18th Century fur traders), work on a trail crew in Gulfport, Mississippi, and finally I head back up to Alaska, where I finish paying my debt off as a backcountry ranger in the Gates of the Arctic National Park.

When I get out of debt, and when I enroll in a graduate program at Duke University, inspired by Thoreau, I move into a 1994 Econoline Van — my “Walden on Wheels” — where I secretly live in a campus parking lot to stay out of debt, and where I put to use the many lessons about frugality and simplicity and adventure that I’d learned on my journey before.”
http://www.kenilgunas.com/p/the-book-walden-on-wheels.html

“Not long ago young Americans collectively reached a dubious milestone: $1 trillion in student debt, which represents a fivefold increase since the turn of the 21st century. But don’t blame Ken Ilgunas. It’s true that he graduated in 2006 owing $32,000, but he found the situation so terrifying that he worked frantically to pay it off. Then he earned a master’s degree without additional borrowing by living in a Ford Econoline van in a parking lot at Duke University.
In “Walden on Wheels,” his thoroughly endearing account of the whole business, Mr. Ilgunas exemplifies a hard-pressed generation of graduates who find themselves burdened with unprecedented levels of debt at a time when good jobs are scarce. He is sarcastic yet not cynical, jaundiced yet far from bitter, and ultimately filled with the idealism we expect—and need—from young people embarking on their adult lives.
The author portrays himself at first as something of a slacker dude, his prose leaning heavily on self-deprecation for humor. “How strange it was,” he marvels, “that the government, my college, and a large bank were letting me, an eighteen-year-old kid—one who didn’t know what ‘interest’ was (or how to work the stove . . .)—take out a gigantic five-digit loan.”
In fact, though, he is far more inquisitive and interesting than the stereotypical young laggard, and what makes his real-life bildungsroman so compelling is watching his transformation. This is a guy who starts out sounding like a refugee from “Wayne’s World” and ends up a reasonably credible latter-day Transcendentalist—if you can imagine Seth Rogen channeling Thoreau.

Endowed with an admirable work ethic, Mr. Ilgunas gets through the University at Buffalo by laboring more than 30 hours a week pushing carts and stacking lumber at a Home Depot. HD -0.82 % Unable to find a job upon graduation, he unwittingly follows Horace Greeley’s advice and goes west—all the way to Alaska, where he encounters the sublime in the unspoiled Arctic landscape and throws himself into backbreaking toil at a far-flung truck stop. He is not alone in undertaking menial work upon graduation. As he notes, in 2009 there were 17.4 million college graduates in jobs that didn’t require a degree, including 365,000 cashiers and more than 100,000 janitors (5,057 of whom with doctorate or professional degrees).
Like any self-respecting heir to the great Romantic tradition, Mr. Ilgunas yearns for freedom and experience, love and meaning, and thus his student loans oppress him as a form of bondage. The debt is like some remorseless god: monstrous and impossible to propitiate. “What little money I was able to put toward my debt always felt negligible, pointless even. It was like throwing a glass of water on a burning building.”
He recognizes that student loans, acquired thoughtlessly, can have ethical implications. His best friend is driven by an even larger student debt to take a hateful job as a telemarketer for a profit-making college—enticing students to borrow in order to get an education even less remunerative than his own.
Some graduates carry their student loans to the grave, but Mr. Ilgunas is determined to avoid this fate. With room and board provided by his Alaskan employer and little to buy in a town so remote that, in tourist season, the population “triples to thirty-five,” he manages to pay off most of his debt in just two years while earning just $9 an hour.
The beast vanquished, Mr. Ilgunas soon realizes that merely eradicating his debt can’t by itself produce a meaningful life, so he pursues a relatively impractical degree in liberal studies at Duke, where he moves into a vehicle on campus—rather than a cabin at Walden—to avoid the fetters of indebtedness. He vows to “polish my intellect at school but sand down my body to a fine grain with a tough life in the van. I’d embrace a bare bones, uncluttered simplicity—a voluntary poverty.”
Such claims run the risk of sounding earnest and pretentious, but the author’s hardships make them seem heartfelt and even uplifting—which is not to say that “Walden on Wheels” is without problems. The most serious one is that the author acknowledges, at the outset, that he has tinkered with his tale to suit the telling, altering names, details and the sequence of events. He deserves credit for coming clean; memoirists often take such liberties, and some make up their stories from whole cloth. But by playing with the facts enough to warrant such a warning, he undermines the credibility of his whole enterprise, and we end up wondering just how much of this colorful material has been Photoshopped for better presentation.
Mr. Ilgunas also seems blind to his generation’s biggest error, which is paying huge sums for mediocre schooling. His own mistake was borrowing to attend a costly second-rate private university for a year—the same place his friend spent four years only to find himself paying his own debts by inflicting a similar burden on others. Fortunately Mr. Ilgunas had the sense to transfer to a state school, where he piled up debt more gradually.
Yet ultimately Mr. Ilgunas’s borrowing turns out to have been a blessing, for it raised his consciousness and propelled him into a series of adventures far more instructive than his time in any classroom. Unlike so many students burdened by loans, at least this one got his money’s worth.”
From: Daniel Akst “College and Its Discontents” “Wall Street Journal” June 3 2013
Full text available on-line at: http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424127887323855804578511571145523096

Stability

“In whatever place you live, do not easily leave it.” Abba Anthony, 3rd century AD

Hermits, as all Christians, are called to live according to the Gospel with stability and endurance. But we live in a world in which stability is undervalued. The rates at which people now change jobs, even careers, let alone houses is extraordinary. Interests are taken up with enthusiasm, and abandoned without much thought. Perhaps, noting the contemporary statistics for divorce and other forms of relationship breakdown, even more extraordinary is the rate at which people change relationships. Stability is, it seems, equated with stagnation, boredom, being in “a rut”, being “stale”, and a lack of excitement in life.

Stability must be established, and it must be maintained.

However desirable stability may be, no-one can rationally commit to stability in a particular way of life without planning, testing, reflection and self-questioning. This will be assisted by the development of a Rule of Life. Without a strong foundation to establish stability, there is little, if any, possibility of it being continued.

Traditionally, monastic communities have set out a process of testing a vocation before anything like long-term let alone life-time, commitment is made to the Rule of Life on which the community is based. While it would be foolish to decide after, say, a month or a few months, that a pattern of stability could not be maintained, it is entirely appropriate that a choice made at one time might require revision or even radical change. To use the traditional monastic model, a period as a “postulant” should be undertaken during which the individual maintains stability of the religious life form a period of (usually) less than one year, followed by a period of stability as a novice (Slavonic: послушник, poslushnik, lit. “one under obedience”) for a period from one to three years. This equates to the image of the tree: it has been planted, but has it taken root, and is it growing in a healthy condition? It is far better that the postulant or the novice (and his or her superiors) recognize that this is not the right “life of stability” for the individual, which he or she is then free to depart, than that it continues.

Any long term, let alone lifetime, commitment to a particular life of stability can only, realistically and honestly, be made after a suitable period of trial and testing. Sadly, a decision not to pursue the path initially chosen is all too often seen as a “failure” or an abandonment of the spiritual life. It is, of course, nothing of the sort. Far better that a man or a woman realizes that his or her vocation is, for example, to marriage and family, than that he or she persists in the wrong vocation as a monk or nun.

But the key principle here is surely this: there must be a reasonable and appropriate time of testing during which there is a firm commitment to stability. A pupil who, after two lessons and a week of practicing scales, decides that he or she has no gift for the piano is less likely to be making an informed decision about musical competence than demonstrating a lack of capacity to endure. An athlete who decides after a week of training that it is all too much effort is less likely to be making an informed decision about physical skill than demonstrating a lack of capacity to endure.

And it is far better that, even when an apparently decisive choice has been made, that an individual is capable of and free to make a change, even after many years, than that he or she feels compelled to endure the appearance of stability.

A choice to accept a life of stability – whether in the traditional vows of the monastic life or according to a personal rule of life – must be free and informed, made with awareness of the costs and the obligations. The choice can only be made after testing and trial. It can only be made with the qualification that an alternative choice, however unforeseeable or improbable it may appear at the time, might be made in the future.

The possibility of stability requires the building of a sound foundation upon which it can be based.

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock. Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and it fell– and great was its fall.” [Matthew 7:24-27]

Occasional prayer, periodic adherence to spiritual disciplines like fasting, reading the Scriptures when the time is convenient…..this “sand” rather than “rock”. In this regard, a properly developed Rule of Life will be of positive benefit.

I enjoy watching television documentaries about individuals who labour to build their own, personalised dream homes – programs like “Grand Designs”. While the end of each episode in which the finished, often spectacular, building is revealed may be viewed by many as the most important part, I find the beginning stages more enlightening. The challenges, often almost overwhelming, of laying the foundations and ensuring that any pre-existing structures in an old building do not fall down, are the essential prelude to all that follows. Tedious labour, day after day, a week after week, and, often, month after month produces no impressive results – perhaps just a dull grey concrete foundation. But without that, the final magnificent work of architectural triumph cannot be created.

But most of us want the final achievement now, or, at the latest, tomorrow. Many people will pray or meditate, perhaps using a particular method, and very quickly move on to another approach, or give up altogether. The commitment to reading Scripture every day is abandoned when it proves to be unexciting or to produce no “effects”. There is no consistency of applied effort continued even when it is a burden, or boring, or there are more interesting things to do.

Stability presupposes consistent labour. Any athletics coach or music teacher will confirm that maintaining consistent effort over time is a challenge: rising every morning at 5.00 am to run, or spending an hour a day practicing scales tends to be tedious, stressful, laborious, even mind-numbingly boring. But it is essential to lay the foundation for future achievement. Unless the foundation of the spiritual life is carefully and laboriously laid, the “house” on which it is built will collapse or not arise at all. We may desire action, change, excitement, and variety. But until and unless the basic skills have been learned and developed through long and tedious effort, we will lack the resources necessary: running in the Olympics or playing complex piano music come, not on the first day or even the hundred and first day, only when the essential foundations have been laid.

It is worth noting the number of images from Greek athletics found in the Pauline epistles and the Epistle to the Hebrews: they all relate to the importance of self-discipline and training in preparation for, in this case not the Olympic Games, but the “race of life”.

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air.” [1 Corinthians 9:24-26]

If stability must be established, so must it be maintained.

“Jesus replied, “No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”” [Luke 9:62]

The agricultural images used by the Lord in His teaching are almost certainly alien to those of us living in large, cosmopolitan, highly urbanized centres. Ploughs, insofar as we may know (essentially from television) what they are, are now forms of sophisticated agricultural machinery pulled by other forms of sophisticated agricultural machinery, increasingly automated and now sometimes even operating without direct human control and making use of GPS control systems.

At the time of the Lord’s teaching, the plough was a relatively primitive, unstable wooden implement, possibly with a small part in metal (the share or cutting blade), held by the farmer and pulled by an animal. To plough in straight lines (thereby maximizing the use of a field) required constant attention, manual dexterity, and concentrated effort. Being even slightly distracted, the farmer would find the plough being diverted and, once diverted, very difficult to get “back on track”.

Many things distract from an effort at stability. But, once again to use the examples of the pianist or the athlete, this is true not only of the spiritual life. There are, inevitably, sometimes more interesting and exciting and personally gratifying things to do. We are, to use the imagery of the early Desert Fathers and Mothers, surrounded by demons seeking to distract us from the spiritual life. Sometime if will be helpful, even essential, to have the guidance and support of a spiritual counsellor to assist in when the distractions seem overwhelming.

Stability does not mean a lack of movement or growth. A tree may remain planted in the one place, but that very stability enables it to grow, to expand and to thrive. However, if it is frequently uprooted, moved and replanted, its capacity for growth, expansion and even life is diminished. The tree must be initially carefully and skilfully planted, nurtured, watered, given the correct fertilizer, and protected from wind damage by supporting stakes. Until and unless a well-established root system develops, there is no certainty that the tree with growth and thrive, and will not be damaged by wind and rain.

Stability becomes easier as it becomes a pattern of life. As the potential athlete or pianist builds practice into the normal routine of life and sees it as the basis for better performance to come, so “the roots of the tree” grow deeper and stronger, and the life of the branches and leaves become richer. Thus, we can pursue with spiritual life with endurance.

“Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.…” [Hebrews 12:1-2]

For many Christians, there is no stability of Faith in practice except, perhaps regular (more or less) attendance at Church services. But a stable Orthodox Christian life, for the laity no less than the clergy or monastics, is an hour by hour, day by day, week or week, and year by year process. It requires more than anything self-discipline, commitment and personal effort.

“Deep down in our bones, we seem to know that rapid change and constant motion are hazards to our spiritual health. Humans long for the simplicity of a life that blossoms into its fullness by becoming rooted in a place.
For the Christian tradition, the heart’s true home is a life rooted in the love of God. True peace is possible when our spirits are stilled and our feet are planted—and when we get this stability of heart deep down inside of us, real growth begins to happen.”

Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove “The Wisdom of Stability: Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture” [Paraclete Press, 2010]
See https://citydesert.wordpress.com/2013/06/07/the-wisdom-of-stability/

Early Irish Hermits

“We have records of numerous individual hermits from the time of St. Patrick down, retiring from the world to spend their days in prayer and meditation in lonely places remote from human society. But the desire for eremitical life became very general about the end of the sixth century. Then not only individuals, but whole communities of monks sought a solitary life. The leader of a colony of intended recluses went with his followers to some remote place, in a deep valley surrounded by mountains, forests, and bogs, or on some almost inaccessible little island, where they took up their abode.

Each man built a cell for himself: and these cells, with a little church in the midst, all surrounded by a low cashel, rath, or wall, formed an eremitical monastery: a monastic group like those known in the East by the name of “Laura.” Each monk passed the greater part of his life in his own cell, holding little or no communication with his fellows, except only at stated times in the clay or night, when all assembled in the church for common worship, or in the refectory for meals. Their food consisted of fruits, nuts, roots, and other vegetables, which they cultivated in a kitchen-garden: and it must often have gone hard with them to support life.

The remains of these little monasteries are still to be seen in several parts of Ireland, both on the mainland and on islands: as, for instance, at Gougane Barra lake, the source of the Lee in Cork, where St. Finbarr, patron of Cork, settled with his hermit community in the end of the sixth century; on Inishmurray off the Sligo coast; on Ardoilen, a little ocean rock off the coast of Galway, where a laura was founded by St. Fechin in the seventh century; and on the Great Skellig off the Kerry coast, where there still remains an interesting group of cloghans, i.e. beehive-shaped stone houses.”

“A Smaller Social History of Ancient Ireland Treating of the Government, Military System, and Law; Religion, Learning and Art; Trades, Industries, and Commerce; Manners, Customs, and Domestic Life, of the Ancient Irish People” [London, New York, and Bombay, Longmans, Green, & co, 1906]
http://www.libraryireland.com/SocialHistoryAncientIreland/II-VI-8.php

Diet in The Desert and Beyond

David Grumett and Rachel Muers “Theology on the Menu: Asceticism, Meat and Christian Diet” [London: Routledge, 2010]

“Food – what we eat, how much we eat, how it is produced and prepared, and its cultural and ecological significance- is an increasingly significant topic not only for scholars but for all of us. “Theology on the Menu” is the first systematic and historical assessment of Christian attitudes to food and its role in shaping Christian identity. David Grumett and Rachel Muers unfold a fascinating history of feasting and fasting, food regulations and resistance to regulation, the symbolism attached to particular foods, the relationship between diet and doctrine, and how food has shaped inter-religious encounters.”

Angel F. Mendez-Montoya “The Theology of Food: Eating and the Eucharist” [Wiley-Blackwell, 2012]

“The links between religion and food have been known for centuries, and yet we rarely examine or understand the nature of the relationship between food and spirituality, or food and sin. Drawing on literature, politics, and philosophy as well as theology, this book unlocks the role food has played within religious tradition.
A fascinating book tracing the centuries–old links between theology and food, showing religion in a new and intriguing light
Draws on examples from different religions: the significance of the apple in the Christian Bible and the eating of bread as the body of Christ; the eating and fasting around Ramadan for Muslims; and how the dietary laws of Judaism are designed to create an awareness of living in the time and space of the Torah
Explores ideas from the fields of literature, politics, and philosophy, as well as theology
Takes seriously the idea that food matters, and that the many aspects of eating table fellowship, culinary traditions, the aesthetic, ethical and political dimensions of food are important and complex, and throw light on both religion and our relationship to food”

Norman Wirzba “Food and Faith: A Theology of Eating” [Cambridge University Press, 2011]

“This book provides a comprehensive theological framework for assessing significance of eating, employing a Trinitarian theological lens to evaluate food production and consumption practices as they are being worked out in today’s industrial food systems. Norman Wirzba combines the tools of ecological, agrarian, cultural, biblical and theological analyses to draw a picture of eating that cares for creatures and that honors God. Unlike books that focus on vegetarianism or food distribution as the key theological matters, this book broadens the scope to include discussions on the sacramental character of eating, eating’s ecological and social contexts, the meaning of death and sacrifice as they relate to eating, the Eucharist as the place of inspiration and orientation, the importance of saying grace and whether or not there will be eating in Heaven. Food and Faith demonstrates that eating is of profound economic, moral and theological significance.”

Richard Alan Young “Is God a Vegetarian?: Christianity, Vegetarianism, and Animal Rights [Open Court, 1998]

“ “Is God a Vegetarian?” is one of the most complete explorations of vegetarianism in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Young, a linguistics and New Testament scholar, attempts to answer the question being asked with greater and greater frequency: “Are Christians morally obligated to be vegetarians?”
Many people are confused about the apparent mixed messages within the Bible. On the one hand, God prescribes a vegetarian diet in the Garden of Eden and the apocalyptic visions of Isaiah and John imply the restoration of a vegetarian diet. However, it is also clear that God permits, Jesus partakes in, and Paul sanctions the eating of flesh. Does the Bible give any clear guidance?
Close readings of key biblical texts pertaining to dietary customs, vegetarianism, and animal rights make up the substance of the book. Rather than ignoring or offering a literal, twentieth-century interpretation of the passages, the author analyzes the voices of these conflicting dietary motifs within their own social contexts. Interwoven throughout these readings are discussions of contemporary issues, such as animal testing and experimentation, the fur industry, raising animals in factories, and the effects of meat-eating on human health.”

See also: https://citydesert.wordpress.com/?s=diet

Structure

One of the great dangers of the life of the Hermit is disorganization and a lack of structure. Living alone, without any external supervision, allows for the possibility of an entirely self-centred and self-indulgent life. Unlike monks and nuns who live within a structured community, usually according to a formal rule and under the supervision of official superiors, the Hermit can do whatever he or she likes. A Monk or Nun may like to read novels (or watch television) all day while lying in bed, but such behaviour would be noted and (presumably) subject to comment if not correction. Not so in the case of the Hermit or any other religious solitary. Or, indeed, for most Christians living outside a religious community.

Traditionally, however, Hermits lived a structured life, with a discipline and a routine distinguishing that life from, for example, a holiday, a time or personal recreation, or a life of retirement. This was often based on a “Rule of Life”, which may have been formal or informal, written or (in the case of the Desert Mothers and Fathers and the early Hermits) unwritten. The development of a Rule of Life can be a very helpful means of providing structure to the spiritual life of every Christian.

The word “rule” comes from the Greek word κανών (canon), a rod or straight piece of rounded wood to which anything is fastened to keep it straight; a measuring rod, a ruler; a carpenter’s line or measuring tape, This includes a trellis, a structure that enables a grapevine to get off the ground and grow upward, becoming more fruitful and productive. The Rule of Life is intended to provide a framework, a structure of support, to facilitate growth in the spiritual life. It is like a training regime developed by a coach to assist an athlete in the development of his or her abilities.

The busyness of life in the modern world creates a need for – sometimes almost an obsession with – structure, organization, planning, scheduling, timetabling….to fit everything in and to ensure that there is time for everything to be done. This is, of course, almost a necessity for those who work, have families, maintain homes and try to have “outside interests” as well. It is somewhat alarming to see in some models for life planning periods assigned for “free time” or “fun” or even “unplanned activities”! Modern electronic technology – i-phones, i-pads and such like – facilitate planning and structuring.

However, even those who, in all other aspects of their lives, take care to plan and organize, rarely do so regarding the spiritual lives. Perhaps attendance at a church service may be included in the week’s busy schedule. But church attendance, while it may be a valuable part of a Rule of Life, is insufficient.

“A Rule of Life is an intentional pattern of spiritual disciplines that provides structure and direction for growth in holiness. A Rule establishes a rhythm for life in which is helpful for being formed by the Spirit, a rhythm that reflects a love for God and respect for how he has made us. The disciplines which we build into our rhythm of life help us to shed the “old self” and allow our “new self” in Christ to be formed. Spiritual disciplines are means of grace by which God can nourish us. Ultimately a Rule should help you to love God more, so if it becomes a legalistic way of earning points with God or impressing others, it should be scrapped. If the traditional, ancient term “rule” concerns you because it sounds legalistic, think of “rule” as a “rhythm of life” or as a “Curriculum in Christlikeness” (Dallas Willard), or as a “Game Plan for Morphing” (John Ortberg).
In order to be life-giving, a Rule must be realistic! It is not an ideal toward which you are striving to soar. Instead, your initial Rule should be a minimum standard for your life that you do not want to drop below. It’s a realistic level of engaging in the spiritual disciplines for which you can honestly and truly be held accountable.
Rules will vary widely, depending on the character and life situation of a person. Not only will people choose different disciplines but how the disciplines are practiced will also vary. Although every believer should pray, for example, the frequency or length or times or kind of prayer will differ. Thomas à Kempis writes, “All cannot use the same kind of spiritual exercises, but one suits this person, and another that. Different devotions are suited also to the seasons [of life]….””
https://www.bing.com/search?q=rule%20of%20life&pc=cosp&ptag=A9C7EDF55B3&form=CONMHP&conlogo=CT3210127

Some guidelines for the development of a Rule of Life:

1. The Rule should be developed with care and attention, prayer and reflection, perhaps some research and reading. If it is to be a guide for the next (say) five years of life, it should not be, and indeed cannot be, rushed. If other people are to be involved, even indirectly, it should be developed in consultation with them. It can be helpful to seek the guidance of someone who has developed and lives according to a Rule of Life, particularly about potential problems.

2. The Rule is a guide or an ideal model – not set of laws “engraved in stone”. Rigid and obsessive conformity to the Rule is unlikely to be possible, and is certainly not spiritually or psychologically healthy.

3. The personal Rule must be personal. Religious communities usually develop and apply a Rule for the community which individual members will follow. But an individual developing a personal Rule needs to ensure that it meets his or her personal needs. A model or template can be helpful in provided some guidance on what such a rule might, or even should, include, but it must be adapted and developed for the individual. Such personal application will change over time. A Rule that is relevant for the mother of a newborn child will necessary be different to that for the same woman when her children are attending school and she has returned to paid work. Likewise, a Rule for a Hermit, or anyone else living a solitary life, will be different to a Rule for someone living with another (especially in a relationship like marriage) or others.

4. The Rule must be realistic. There are only 24 hours in a day, and sleep is necessary! For many people full-time paid employment is necessary and must be taken into account.

5. The Rule must be balanced. The ancient Rules included work (by which was meant physical labour), prayer, and intellectual activities (like reading) – “hands, and heart, and mind”. The Rules also included time for rest and recreation.

6. The Rule must be practical. In the absence of servants, it must allow for supposedly “non-spiritual” activities – putting out the garbage, cleaning the bathroom, preparing meals, sweeping the yard, paying bills, shopping. Such practical obligations cannot be seen as somehow “unspiritual” or as interruptions to the spiritual life; they must be incorporated into that life.

7. The Rule must not be oppressive. It may include, for example, two hours of prayer each day, but that cannot require that 110 minutes on one day represents either a failure or a “sin”, or that the prescribed period cannot be exceeded. The aim is not a mechanistic “ticking the boxes” approach to the spiritual life. Nor is a Rule likely to endure if it fails to include time for recreation and (although the term is usually, and wrongly, assumed to be “unspiritual”) “fun”.

8. The Rule must be encouraging. An unrealistic Rule, like an unrealistic plan for health and fitness, will usually be followed enthusiastically for a short time, and then abandoned when it becomes too hard. While endeavouring to run 5km every morning may sound good, starting out with a lesser distance and gradually building up to a longer one is less likely to lead to early abandonment of running altogether.

9. The Rule must be flexible. Unexpected and unpredictable things happen. An obsessive-compulsive approach to the Rule will lead to anxiety, even panic, if rigid adherence is interrupted.

10. The Rule must be regularly reviewed and revised.

Some people may wish to seek guidance on, and even a blessing for, a Rule of Life from a Bishop or Priest, or a Spiritual Adviser or Confessor.

For rules of life, see: https://citydesert.wordpress.com/?s=rule+of+life

See also:

Stephen A. Macchia “Crafting a Rule of Life: An Invitation to the Well-Ordered Way” [IVP Books, 2012]

Margaret Guenther “At Home in the World: A Rule of Life for the Rest of Us” [Seabury Books, 2006]

Fr. Michael Woodgate “A Rule of Life For Daily Christian Living” [Gloria Deo, 2007]

In the past decade, there has been an exciting re-discovery of the spiritual traditions and practices of ancient Christianity in some Protestant churches and communities. This has included the development of new models of Christian community living (sometimes known as “New Monasticism” or “Neo-Monasticism”), and the development of an interest in and explorations of the tradition of a Rule of Life. A number of the current websites on the idea of the Rule of Life comes from within the Protestant tradition – see, for example: http://ruleoflife.com/ , http://methodistdiaconalorder.org.uk/index.php?page=rule-of-life , http://palmvalleychurch.com/blog/newcommunity/developing-a-rule-of-life/

The Desert Paradox

“Why did the desert fathers choose to work out their spirituality in the desert?

They sought God, first of all, and they knew that God was most easily found in a place without distractions. Second, the desert was also a marvelous laboratory for dealing with the self, which was their other major spiritual project.

How do you handle the ego and its anxiousness, its constant need for support?

You walk into the desert, which doesn’t care one bit about who you are or what you bring to it. That kind of terrain offers a marvelous antidote to the problem of the ego, the false self.
In the Bible and Greco-Roman culture, the desert is not so much a place of spiritual growth but a place of evil and temptation.

Didn’t the monks believe that?

They did, and that is another reason they went into the wilderness. They found precedents in the life of John the Baptist (you won’t find a desert monastery without an icon of John the Baptist) and especially in Jesus. Throughout his life, Jesus withdrew into the desert to pray. He began his ministry in the wilderness, being tempted for 40 days. Likewise, Antony started his ministry by going into the desert to empty himself and face temptation there.
The desert is a place where you expect the temptations of hunger, of power, of beauty—the things the desert lacks are the things you find yourself wanting desperately. The monks looked on demons and temptation as aides to their spiritual lives. But they were not overwhelmed by trials and temptations. Instead, they found God in the midst of temptation and struggle.

Today, many go into the wilderness to “get back to nature.” Was that part of the monks’ motivation?

No. It’s so easy for us to romanticize their motivation today. Abba Macarius in Egypt was said to be a lover of the desert, but this was only after spending years there. For the monks, the desert was primarily a training ground.

How did the desert as such shape these monks’ spiritual lives?

The desert asks two questions: What do you learn to ignore? And what do you learn to love? In other words, how do you let go, and what do you hold onto? Those are the basic dimensions of the spiritual journey that the desert monks went through as they embraced the desert.

Let me paraphrase one of the best illustrations of this, found in “Sayings of the Desert Fathers”: A young man, a spiritual groupie of sorts, comes to Scetis, west of the Nile, to seek out the great monk Abba Macarius. He asks Abba Macarius, “How do I get to be a holy man? I want to be a holy man. And I want to be one tomorrow.”

Macarius smiles and says, “Spend the day tomorrow over at the cemetery. I want you to abuse the dead for all you’re worth. Throw sticks and stones at them, curse at them, call them names—anything you can think of. Spend the whole day doing nothing but that.”
The young man must have thought the great monk was crazy, but he spent the next day doing everything he was told. When he returned, Abba Macarius asked him, “What did the dead people say out there today?”
The young man responded that they didn’t say a thing. They were dead. Macarius said, “Isn’t that interesting? I want you to go back tomorrow, and this time spend the day saying everything nice about these people. Call them righteous men and women, compliment them, say everything wonderful you can imagine.”
So the young man went back the next day, did as he was told, and returned to Macarius. The monk asked him what the dead people said this time.
“Well, they didn’t answer a word again,” replied the brother.
“Ah, they must indeed be holy people,” said Macarius. “You insulted them, and they did not reply. You praised them, and they did not speak. Go and do likewise, my friend, taking no account of either the scorn of men and women or their praises. And you too will be a holy man.”

It’s a wonderful story that asks two questions: What do you ignore? The answer is the scorn and praise of others. The other question is more indirect—What do you love? That is, since you are not going to be motivated by what others think, what are you going to give yourself to fully?

But how is it possible to learn love when you’re solitary?

The monks learned that the desert teaches you how to live apart from others, how to live without compulsively needing them to give you worth or make you feel loved. In the desert, you learn how to live with yourself. Only then are you capable of giving love—sacrificial love that accepts or needs nothing in return.

Let me give an example from our lives, because even when we live in the city, we can have this type of desert experience. There’s a point when you realize you have to let go of what you love most if you ever hope to really keep it. And only when you reach that point (e.g., in your career or your marriage or your deepest relationships with others), when you move beyond a compulsive need for them. Only then is it going to be possible really to love for the first time.

It’s incredibly painful letting go. But once you do that, there is an incredible sense of the desert, as Isaiah says, blossoming like a rose. Suddenly in the place of abandonment, in the place where you let go of everything you knew, you realize that what you could not hold God gives back. And love is born there in the very place where you had lost everything.
Now as the monks learned, the desert makes no promises. If you’re going out there to suddenly become a deeply loving person, if like the young man you want to become holy, there are no guarantees. It is only at profound risk—letting go, ignoring yourself and the distractions of the world—that love and compassion might occur. But as many mystics, East and West, have discovered, “The experience of emptiness engenders compassion.”
In a lot of the desert father stories, it feels as if the monks practiced ascetic disciplines to earn salvation.

You could interpret it that way on a surface level. But I see them living out what medieval mystic Meister Eckhart once said, that the spiritual life isn’t so much a matter of addition as subtraction.

Though we Protestants talk about justification by faith (versus by works), we often act as if the key to the spiritual life is adding all the active virtues, doing great things for God, sharing the gospel with others, and the like. Eckhart said, no, it’s a matter of subtraction. How much can you let go of? It’s not a matter of anxiously having to prove yourself to your teachers, to your parents, or to God so as to finally make yourself acceptable. It’s a matter of letting go of all those compulsive needs for approval and recognizing that only after you abandon those compulsions will you be able to accept God’s utterly free grace that comes in the gospel, in Jesus.

The desert is a perfect place to let go of the need for recognition. I love the image of the canyon cliff that Gregory of Nyssa used back in the fourth century. Being on top of that cliff, in a place of beauty and uneasiness—that’s where you discover the majesty, greatness, and glory of God. You look at that canyon cliff, think about it being there thousands, maybe millions of years, and you ask yourself, how did that canyon cliff change on the day your personal world fell apart?

What’s an example of that?

For me, that was the day my father was tragically killed when I was 13, and I thought the whole world had fallen apart. What did that canyon cliff do that day? Or how did it change on the day of your divorce, or the day you admitted your dependence on alcohol, or the day you finally shared a hidden shame with someone else?

And you find, sitting there watching that canyon wall, that it didn’t change at all. In the midst of your world falling apart, something didn’t change. It was waiting, staying there as if for you, in the same way that God does not change. That stone cliff, a metaphor of God, invites you to pour out all the grief and anguish you can muster, then accepts it all without rebuke, receives it all right there in the desert.

Something amazing happens at that point. When you become silent enough and empty enough, pouring out your needs to God in that desert place, you are able for the first time to hear what you had never heard before, and that’s a single word whispered by Jesus: love. It’s one of those words that you can’t hear until you are utterly silent and utterly empty.
Speaking about what the most devout desert monks had experienced, John Climacus wrote, “Lucky the man who longs for God as a smitten lover does for his beloved.”

To me, this is what attracted and held monks in the desert, and why it still attracts some souls to this day.”

From: “Discovering the Desert Paradox”, and interview with Belden Lane in “Christian History” Issue 64. Whole test available on-line at: https://www.christianhistoryinstitute.org/magazine/article/interview-discovering-the-desert-paradox/

Belden Lane, a Presbyterian professor of theology at St. Louis University, is the author of “The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Mountain and Desert Spirituality” (Oxford, 1998), a brilliant analysis of how geography has played a vital role in the history of Western spirituality.

See: https://citydesert.wordpress.com/?s=belden+lane

Daniil Sihastrul

Pious Daniil was born in a village not far from Rădăuţi, to righteous parents, being baptised with the name of Demetrius. Having loved spiritual life, when he was 16 years old, he left his parents’ house and joined the community of the Rădăuţi Monastery dedicated to Saint Nicholas, growing in faith, good deeds, prayer and night vigils. He was reading every day the writings of the Holy Fathers and liturgical books, showing obedience and humbleness in everything he had to do by the abbot’s decision. He became a monk as a reward for his efforts, by the name of David, but his aspiration for more severe spiritual efforts led him to Saint Leontius of Rădăuţi Monastery, close to today’s Laura village. There, he worked together with the brethren of the monastic community during the day and prayed incessantly in his cell at night. Having seen his endeavours and noticing his continuous aspiration to God, the abbot of the monastery gave him the Great Schema, advised by his father confessor, receiving the name of Daniil.
Soon after he received the Great Schema, he retired, with the blessing of his abbot, near Viţău brook, in the forests around Putna, where he dug a cell in a rock that can still be seen today, not far from Putna Monastery.

His ascetic efforts would make him known rather soon, having been visited by many faithful who wanted his advice and spiritual guidance, as well as to intercede to God for healing their spiritual and physical diseases.
Out of his many spiritual children that used to come to him rather often, one can mention Holy Ruler Prince Stephan the Great (†1504), who received spiritual advise and blessing of the pious hermit. Stephan is said to have come to the cell of the pious hermit for the first time in 1451, when his father was killed at Reuseni. Pious Daniil encouraged him and predicted he would be ruling prince. That came true after six years (1457). Following his advice, great Stephan founded Putna Monastery in 1466. After the monastery was consecrated, in 1470, the pious hermit went to live at the Eagle’s rock, near Voroneţ. Stephan the Great went to ask for his advice there too, in 1476, after he was defeated at Războieni. The hermit encouraged him to gather his army again and defend the country and Christianity against the invading pagans. The prince followed his advice and promised that after every victory he would raise a church, and so he did. Thus, besides the great prince, Venerable Daniil was also protecting Moldavia through his permanent prayers well received by God. In 1488, Stephan the Great built Voroneţ Monastery in only four months and a half.
Then, venerable Daniil came to the community over there and was elected abbot. There, he advised the monastic community and the hermits from neighbourhood, having been spiritual father of many faithful who came to him to receive spiritual benefit. God has also given him the gift to perform miracles, which the pious always tried to hide. Yet, the healing of diseases and casting out the bad spirits were signs of his holiness for which he was greatly venerated.
In 1496, pious Daniil has fallen asleep into the Lord, Whom he had served ever since he was a young man. The text on his gravestone laid by Holy Ruler Prince Stephan reads: “This is the grave of our father David, hermit Daniil”. In 1547, at the command of the metropolitan of Moldavia, Gregory Roşca (†1570), one of his disciples, his face was painted, with a saint’s halo, over the entrance door, on the southern side of the church. The parchment Pious Daniil holds in his hand reads: “Come, my children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the LORD” (Psalm 34:11).
On 5 March 1992, the Holy Synod of the Romanian Orthodox Church decided that Holy Venerable Daniil the Hermit be enlisted in the calendar and celebrated on 18 December.
Through his holy prayers, Lord Jesus Christ, our God, have mercy on us. Amen.”

Troparion, plagal 4 tone 8:
“In you, oh, Father, the one created in the image of God was saved, for taking up the Cross, you did follow Christ and, by your deeds, you did teach us to overlook the flesh, for it is perishable, but to be attentive to the soul since it is immortal. Therefore, oh, Pious Father Daniil, your spirit rejoices with the angels”.
http://basilica.ro/saint-pious-daniil-the-hermit-111078-en.html

“Our venerable and God-bearing Father Daniel the Hermit of Voroneţ, Sf. Daniil Sihastru de la Voroneţ in Romanian, was a 15th century monk and the spiritual father of Stephen the Great, the Voievod of Moldova. Under his guidance, Stephen the Great defended Moldova from Ottoman invasion and dedicated himself and his rule to God.
Daniel lived alone for 14 years in a cell carved from a boulder in a forested valley close to Putna Monastery, which is now used as a chapel according to the rules of Mount Athos.

His relics are housed at Voroneţ Monastery, and he was officially glorified by the Synod of the Church of Romania in 1992. He fell asleep in 1496, and his feast day is December 18.
Daniel was born into a poor family in a village close to Rădăuţi in the early years of 15th century. He was baptised with the name Dumitru but took the name David when he entered the cathedral monastery at Rădăuţi. Here he learnt to follow the monastic life, but eventually, wishing to lead a truly holy life away from the temptations of the world, he retired to the St. Laurence Skete in the community of Vicovul de Sus. Here he entered the Great Schema with the name Daniel (Daniil).
Later he went to live alone in a small cell carved from a rock in the Putna valley. Eventually, he became the spiritual father of Prince Stephen the Great of Moldova whom he advised for many years and who built, at Daniel’s urging, Putna Monastery close to the site of his cell. After the death of Metropolitan Teoctist of Moldova in 1478, he left Putna and made himself a new cell, carving it from a cliff close to the river Voroneţ. He lived here in great poverty and unceasing prayer, earning wide reknown as a monk of great spiritual wisdom, and continued to encourage the Prince in his defense of Moldova against Turkish aggression. In 1488 Stephen the Great had another monastery, Voroneţ, built close to Daniel’s new cell. On his death, Daniel was buried in this monastery.”
http://orthodoxwiki.org/Daniel_the_Hermit

“Daniil Sihastrul (Romanian for “Daniel the Hesychast”; after 1400 — ca. 1482), a saint of the Romanian Orthodox Church, was born into a peasant family at the beginning of the 15th century in a village near Rădăuţi, and baptised under the name Dumitru. He was given the name David when he entered Bogdana Monastery as a youth. Desiring a more eremitical life, he moved to Saint Laurence Monastery near Vicovu de Sus, where he became Daniil. However, he left for a mountain cave hermitage that he dug in a rock, where many came for confession and spiritual guidance. One of his visitors was the young prince Stephen III of Moldavia, who on Daniil’s advice began Putna Monastery nearby in 1466. However, when Stephen wished to make Daniil the metropolitan, the monk withdrew to Voroneţ in 1470. Six years later, when Stephen was about to cede the region to the Turks to avoid more bloodshed after his defeat at Războieni, Daniil prophesied that he would eventually be victorious, which proved to be the case. This visit was the subject of a poem by Dimitrie Bolintineanu. In 1488, after Daniil’s death, Stephen built a monastery at Voroneţ in honour of his victory; the monk was buried there. Long venerated locally, the church canonised him formally on 20 July 1992; his feast day is 18 December.”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daniil_Sihastrul

See also: https://citydesert.wordpress.com/2013/12/18/daniil-sihastrul-hermit-and-hesychast/

A Hermit in Culcairn

“St Patrick’s Church in Culcairn made history last week with the first ever Christian hermit professed at the church.
Ross McKeown has taken on the “unique lifestyle” of a religious hermit.
“It probably won’t ever happen here again,” Mr McKeown said.

As a religious hermit Mr McKeown prays seven times a day and helps the community and people wherever possible.
“You don’t stand behind a door by yourself, that’s not Christian at all,” he said.
“My day starts very early in the morning but I get ready to pray not ready for work.”
Aside from praying he supports the parish priest and community.
He has an obligation to pray every day and support people if they need it.
“If someone wants to talk all day I put aside anything I had planned to sit and talk with them,” he said.
Since being professed his lifestyle hasn’t changed greatly as he was already living a life of prayer.
“This prayer life has always been attractive for me,” Mr McKeown said.
“It was 10 years ago when I first approached the bishop (about becoming a hermit).”
Before becoming a Christian hermit Mr McKeown worked as a nurse in Henty for 12 years but always lived in Culcairn while working there.
Originally from Northern Victoria he moved to Sydney and lived in various cities around the world before settling in Culcairn.
As a Hermit Mr McKeown inhabits and maintains a “kind of powerhouse of prayer” that “helps illuminates the lives of the community with the presence of Christ”.
Mr McKeown said there are around 20 people living as Hermits around Australia with the number growing. In France there are around 400.
While many people may think of a hermit as an old man who lives alone and hates everyone a religious hermit is very different.
“The simplest definition of a Hermit or spiritual solitary is someone who lives alone by choice for spiritual reasons,” the definition states.
This excludes people who live along through unwanted circumstance or those who dislike society.
“They are not selfish individualists merely seeking their own comfort, but rather passionate lovers of humanity who, through their lives of prayer foster a compassionate care for all their brothers and sisters.””
http://www.easternriverinachronicle.com.au/story/3563991/living-a-solitary-life-of-prayer/

Culcairn is a town in the south-east Riverina region of New South Wales, 514 kilometres (319 mi) south-west of Sydney.