I am particularly interested in obscure female saints whose background has something in common with mine or from whom I am descended. Sometime in the 6th century, today's saint settled in Cornwall, U.K., not far from where my Great Grandmother, Eliza Jane Oliver, was born. Saint Morwenna was born in Wales, to King Brychan, a legendary 5th century monarch of Breconshire in "mid Wales." (I also have familial ties to Wales, and am quite interested in that small country as well.)
Morwenna's father is considered a saint, as are all 24 of his children (born by either 3 or 4 women, depending on the tale), and there appears to be quite a bit of local enthusiasm and devotion for his memory, though little documentation of the facts. He was said to be an Irish prince who came to South Wales after his family "took charge" of the kingdom of Garthmadrun (now called "Brycheiniog in honor of this saintly king.) Local legend tells that he was both extremely pious and a good and generous ruler after the death of his father, but he was also fierce in battle, so it looks as if it was not a good idea to cross him. There are so many fascinating stories associated with him and his family that I could spend a good deal of time studying them, which I hope to do in future, but for today I will "stick with" his daughter Morwenna.
After some time of schooling in Ireland, Morwenna lived at the hermitage of Hennacliff (the Raven's Crag) which was associated with the small town of Morwenstow, which translates to "Morwenna's holy place" and is at the top of a very high cliff that surveys the Atlantic Ocean and the perpetually stormy Atlantic sea. In a peculiar and almost magical atmospheric condition that occurs occasionally, one can just see the coast of Wales from this perch.
Legend has it that the local people were extremely poor and could not afford to build a church or shelter for the traveling priests, so she built a rough church with her own hands by carrying stones up the steep cliff, and her iconography often makes reference to this. She stopped to rest at one point, and a spring is said to have gushed up from where she lay her holy head. This spring, which has run dry long ago, is just west of the church.
Morwenna does not appear to have retained much of the resources or trappings of her royal birth, otherwise she would not have had to carry these stones herself in order to provide a church for the people of this area. Of course, this is not surprising, as she was unmarried, and women rarely (if ever) inherited much of any wealth from their fathers, which is why marrying off one's daughters was such a preoccupation of parents during this time. I am guessing that the hermitage was granted to her by her father, but I will have to search through all the myths and the mists of time to get an answer on that score.
I have found a lot of pictures of this area on the internet, and the stark beauty of this place is remarkable, inspiring many to both the heights of spiritual feeling and to beautiful reams of poetry. The poet Robert Hawker (1803-1875) was ordained in the English church in 1831 and was curate of the church at Morwenstow, where he remained until his death. (Prior to his residency, there hadn't been a vicar in that place for a century!) Of particular interest to me is that he became a Catholic on his death bed in 1875. So, here is another fascinating person that I need to add to the list of those I wish to study in future.
Parson Hawker gave Christian burial to shipwrecked seamen who washed up on the shores of his parish. Before his time, the sailors were either buried forlornly on the beach or, more often, left to the sea and its creatures. Hawker describes the celebrated shipwreck of the Caledonia in his book, Footprints of Former Men in Far Cornwall.
I would have loved to have known this eccentric man who loved bright colours. While most clergymen were wearing nothing but black, the only black he wore were his socks! From driftwood found on the beach, he built a hut ("Hawker's Hut") on Hennacliff, where he spent many hours writing poems and letters.
When one imagines a hermitage, it looks FAR more like Parson Hawker's little driftwood shed than my city apartment in Albuquerque, but we contemplate where we find ourselves, and it's more important to consider what's going on inside the person's soul than the prettiness of the environment. Granted, it IS so much easier to meditate in a serene place with beautiful simple furnishings but our crosses are many and varied, each working together to render us humble in some fashion.
As gorgeous as her hermitage in Cornwall was, Morwenna retained a great love for the Wales of her birth, and when she lay dying, she asked Saint Nectan to raise her up so she could see its lovely coast. She is buried at the church in Morwenstow.
On the north wall of the Morwenstow church there was discovered a painting of her, clasping a scroll to her chest with her left hand, and her right arm raised in blessing over a monk kneeling before her. The description of this image speaks to me of the regard in which people held this saint but also her vocation of hermit and selfless builder of the church.
To be a hermit is something that anyone can do. It is simply the vocation of someone who has decided to live apart from society for some time for the sake of God - to be in union with Him, typically immersed in long periods of silence. Like Saint Morwenna, hermits are not without work or labor of some sort, which depends on the particular charism of the hermit and the requirements of their condition, and they are not entirely without human companionship at all times. We are not allergic to other human beings. We are just living a life that naturally lends to spending more time alone with God than most people have.
One does not need permission to be a hermit or have this kind of vocation. It does not have to be officially recognized and there are no rules for this kind of thing except that one is living alone in a completely chaste and contemplative life without husband and children in tow, intentionally dedicated to God. There are some historical exceptions to this, such as when a mother and daughter decide to ban together and live a religious life, but it is typically done in a solitary fashion for large periods of time.
Hermits do not always maintain a lifelong vocation. Very often, hermits were followed into the wilderness and great monastic institutions sprang up. It depends entirely on circumstance and the will of God.
When I became disabled nearly 20 years ago, and it was apparent that I had to spend the rest of my life alone, without outside work, I decided to make lemonade out of lemons by dedicating my life to God as a hermit. I had not intended to become a hermit before that time. In fact, I had wanted to start a Catholic ashram, but God led me to this mode of expression of my faith and it has stood me in good stead. My "work" has been various, from writing this blog to painting religious art, and I expect that it will continue in that vein, unless and until God leads me to some other expression.
Reading about the lives of the saints who lived as hermits, especially the women, gives me encouragement and hope for my own vocation, since I have no support for it, financially, spiritually or emotionally. With the exception of my Social Security Insurance income, gathered from payments over three decades of work, I have nothing. It is up to me to keep up my spirits by seeking out the companionship of the saints like Morwenna.
Very often, people who are called to the eremitic life are unique personalities whose circumstances, talents and/or physical conditions would not be accepted by the Catholic officials. If you are a creative type like the colorful Parson Hawker who never wore black and was a celebrated poet, you will stand out like a sort thumb. I consider myself very similar to him in that regard. But he and Saint Morwenna were also compassionate people who dedicated a lot of their time to the welfare of the local people.
There are two Canon laws that allow for a hermit to take official vows "in the hands of" the local bishop, but one does not have to do so. As long as we don't represent ourselves as official representatives of The Church, it remains a personal, private religious vocation. I am Catholic and I am a hermit, but I am not an "official" Catholic hermit. This is exactly what Saint Morwenna did in her life - as did many other saints whose example I follow. It is a long tradition in the Catholic faith.
Modern Catholics, so accustomed to family life and the contemporary parish setup, have a hard time understanding this vocation that was QUITE common throughout our history. Not everyone is destined for family life. In many cases, the saints lived a family life and then, on the death of their spouse, they retreated to a hermit style of life. Being a hermit is not equal to being a misanthrope, yet many people cannot imagine that a person who likes people could possibly be a hermit! I've gotten comments like that, over the two decades I have lived like this. Saint Morwenna, and those like her, keep me encouraged when no one else understands.
It is a challenge for a disabled person to live this vocation. Disability equates to poverty and lack of ability to do many things for oneself, so begging becomes part of the life. I worked for more than three decades, but my Social Security income is not enough for all my needs, so I find myself asking for help constantly. If I wasn't humble before, I sure have to be NOW. I have become a simple beggar, and there is nothing I can do to change it except for continue to work on my writing and my art and hope to improve the income into the hermitage. In the meantime, I have a GOFUNDME campaign, which you will find:
If you are unsure about donating money, which is understandable in this day and age, please go to my Amazon wish list. They have my address and will mail to me direct:
I encourage everyone who wants to follow the hermit path to get in touch with me. We may live alone but it does not mean we can't support one another in our vocation. I would love to hear about how you accomplish yours at home.
May God bless us all - hermits or housewives.
Silver Rose
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