The kerosene lantern flickers, casting a shadow upon the Carmelite kneeling in prayer in this sacred place. His brown wool hood covers his bowed head and his hands, aged from years of hard work, are hidden below his scapular. He neither moves nor stirs; all is very still in that small hermitage nestled in the secluded mountain ravine. It is indeed odd to find one so tranquil amidst such poverty, but the log cabin has an order about it that reveals the peace of its solitary dweller. The bed of straw is against the wall in the corner. The walls themselves bare except for a rough cross that stands as constant reminder with its three metal nails and crown of thorns. Across the room are a plain wooden desk and a hard wooden stool. There is a copy of the “Imitation of Christ” upon the desk; its pages worn and discolored by the hermit’s frequent reading. In the opposite corner a black potbelly wood stove with a small stack of cut logs nearby, the sole source of heat. There is no electricity. The small sink run by a pump and the steel kettle drying from evening’s supper upon the counter make up the kitchen. The monk is still, very still; he hasn’t moved for some time. He finally lifts his head, sighs and opens his eyes closed in prayer to look up at the poor little image of Our Lady of Mount Carmel on the wall next to the altar. The silence is broken only by the gentle noise of pages as he opens the cover of the leather breviary and begins to pray. In this humble and austere place, in the wild and solitary mountains, this hermit does not leave his dwelling and the few acres surrounding it, preferring rather to remain behind its walls, which keep even the community out. There is nothing that can keep this unknown Carmelite hermit from his deep union with Jesus in imitation of Mary, for he has “chosen the best part, and it shall not be taken away from [him]”. (Lk. 10. 42.)

A Carmelite must have the heart of a hermit. There on Mount Carmel the crusaders did settle, building a wall and finding solitude in the little caves and caverns so beloved and holy. They did not seek the company of men or news of the world’s mundane events. Their real work was there in the profound stillness of their little cells where they prayed and offered sacrifice. These hermits were indeed generous men, called to a most particular and difficult vocation there on the mountainside “meditating on the law of the Lord day and night, and keeping vigil in prayer.” In their secluded dwellings our hermit fathers knew the friendship of God, their sole Solace and Companion. They were not called to be the great preachers or teachers of their times, yet they made these labors fruitful by their intercession. These Carmelite hermits of years past did not retire to the mountains out of fear of the world, but rather dedicated their lives to intercessory prayer and bearing witness to the one thing that really matters, or better put the Someone.

This is the Carmelite tradition, the ideal of all those men and women who have worn the coarse brown habit of the Carmelite family. Is not the Carmelite Order one of the three great eremitical, or hermit orders in the Church, being in the company of the other often better known Carthusian and Camaldolese hermits? There in absolute silence and solitude the fullness of the contemplative life is realized; the soul finds its Lord Who has been seeking him for so long. In silence and blessed solitude, the Carmelite is able to “go out unknown” in the pursuit of His Beloved Lord. There in the unbroken stillness of his hermitage, amongst the pines and mountain springs, the Carmelite life is rich. The monk begins to experience the delights of the life to come and is able to bring men to God that God might come to men. He does far greater good for the Church in that solitude as the saints have taught. Who can gaze upon such a simple and pure life and not see a calling altogether not from men, but from God? What greater apostolate can there be than to have the entire world as your parish and all its peoples as your spiritual sons and daughters!

One might reasonably ask, “Are the priests and brothers of today really being called to such an austere life, so hidden in God and in His creation?” My brothers and sisters, the youth are yearning to know in their own lives deep mystical graces enjoyed by the saints. They do not desire to give partially of themselves, preferring rather the radical following of Christ, which the Church has recognized from her beginning. The beautiful vocation of a hermit, wholly hidden with God inspires our young monks as they seek to one day live the fullness of the hermit vocation.

As Carmelite monks, we recognize the realities of our times and the wisdom of our Discalced saints. In our monastic life, we seek with St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross to live the essence of the life once lived by those holy hermits of Mount Carmel, our predecessors. We find in our monastic life a school that forms us ever so slowly to gravitate more and more towards our cells and clothe our days in ever greater silence and recollection. Yet, the common life is so very necessary for our particular vocation as our young monks leave family, friends and the world; they need the support of community life. In the company of the Brothers, our young monks are able to grow in charity and in virtue; the balance of solitude and fraternity being so aptly suited for their rapid advance in holiness.

Nonetheless, the monastic life is indeed a means to an end, spurring us on to that deep union with Christ. Once attained, the monk can do nothing more noble or beneficial for souls than to retire entirely into the wilderness and spend the rest of his days in strictest solitude and prayer. What a tremendously powerful vocation of such great necessity in our modern times where so many have forgotten God and are living in darkness and despair! The life of a hermit becomes a living testimony to God’s presence in a time when His Sacred Heart and the Immaculate Heart of His Mother suffer so much.

My friends, is it not fitting that there are men set aside entirely for the praise of God Who is Goodness Himself? This is exactly what drove the first Carmelite hermits to retire to Mount Carmel and this great reality inspires us likewise to follow their example. Seeing such a noble longing, rooted in our tradition, I desire to give to those monks of our community, called to the full eremitical life, the mountain solitude where their seclusion will be undisturbed and their silence unbroken. The eremitical life is so urgently needed, but requires a contemplative, wild place where it can be protected, preserved and aspired to by these zealous young monks. The New Mount Carmel is just such a place, wild and solitary with hidden ravines and valleys that seem to only lack Carmelite hermits. May it come quickly that we acquire this New Mount Carmel. In turn, may some of our monks then retire to such blissful solitude that the holiness of their lives might be a sweet odor beckoning men back to Christ and to His Church.