A number of characteristics of the early desert hermits of early Christianity both distinguish the hermits and also underscore important characteristics of all likeable hermits, regardless of geography, culture, tradition, or era.
In the first place, the desert hermits are distinctly driven by a spirituality of their own design and practice. Yes, they are Christian, after all, and tacitly accept the dogma and teaching of their era and of the ecclesiastical authorities. But their chief interest is crafting of themselves a perfect spiritual vessel, simple, natural, and unencumbered by the controversies and invective of the day. As St. Antony the Great, the first desert hermit, reputedly said, pursue what God shows you to be your strengths. (And as Thomas Merton notes, the bishops were far away and not very interested in the desert!)
Not only was eremitism their strength but their strength was the manner of life suggested by eremitism: filled with disciplined hours of contemplation, quiet cooperation with others, economic simplicity, adaptation to nature, isolation from crowded populations and their curious idlers.
The desert hermits had no interest in entertaining visitors, though they received them with inevitable patience. Two examples of this:
1. Abba Moses was walking by a crossroads when a group of pilgrims came up, asking where the house of Abba Moses was. “Why do you want to see that old fool?” Moses replied. They insisted. Well, then, said Moses, pointing down the road — except that he was pointing in the opposite direction from his hut.
2. A prestigious bishop came to a hermit to hear what he had to say. After a moment of conversation, the hermit asked the bishop if he would take advice. Yes, certainly, replied the bishop. The hermit leaned closer and said, “In the future, if you hear that I am in a certain place, do not come to see me. For if I see you I must see everyone, and then I will have to leave the place.
And so the desert hermits would not concede that any visitor had priority over their solitude, over their spirituality, over their project. At the same time, we see a touch of the attitude that characterized Diogenes, our first favorite hermit.
This attitude extended to the community of hermits itself. One Sunday, a visiting priest (not knowing the way of hermits, presumably) announced that a particular novice brother present must leave the community — for something heard in confession, it is to be surmised. A certain elder hermit, tall and distinguished, stood up and began making his way out. Wait, cried the priest, where are you going? The elder turned and stated quietly that he, too, is a sinner. The priest was humbled and the novice recalled. For the hermit spirituality was different. Abba Moses himself was famous for his advice when asked about what to do to maintain peace of mind. “Go to your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.”
And as one amma (woman hermit) noted, what is the point of great learning if you lack humility, if you know the fine points of dogma but lack charity, if you go out to see signs and wonders but do not see the marvel of what can be made of your spirit? She was practical enough, too, to note that what is the point of going out to the desert if your heart is full of the city? (Granted that there is a tradition of “hermit in the city” but that would not differ too much from the amma‘s point.) How imminently practical more advice of the amma: What is the point of fasting if you break your fast with a sumptuous meal? Better to eat less daily and not fast at all.
But these anecdotes hone in on only a few expressions of eremitism, expressions of what might be called self-effacement. Leafing through a book on desert hermits (such as Helen Waddell or Benedicta Ward or Thomas Merton) reveals a panoply of archetypal eremitic expressions of the desert hermits. And it’s hard to choose only one hermit or two among them as favorites.