As the chill of winter continues and I try to step outside as little as possible, I have been thinking about anchorites.
Anchorites were medieval Christians who withdrew from the world into the ultimate form of contemplative solitude: they would be sealed into a small room, usually about 12 by 12 feet. There was no door, only a window, so that they could be passed food and water and receive communion. Some traditions even had a priest say the traditional litany of the dead when the anchorite was sealed inside. Permanently withdrawn from the world, anchorites would meditate, pray, and ponder the mysteries of the universe.
Despite this seemingly permanent seclusion, I have learned that a life of solitude isn’t as simple as it appears. Records show that many of the more famous anchorites had multiple servants, which does not lend itself to a life of ascetic seclusion. Anchorites would receive visitors, asking for their prayers or advice. Some anchorites were prolific writers: Julian of Norwich was an English anchorite whose works are considered important theological texts to this day. Anchorites, while nominally alone and in total seclusion, were considered the center of their communities, sometimes described as the spiritual womb where new possibilities were born.
England’s anchorite tradition came to an end in the sixteenth century. Henry VIII, embroiled in political and theological conflict, forcibly closed the monasteries and made the Church of England the state religion: the anchorites were evicted back into the world, whether they liked it or not. Perhaps this is a good reminder, too: however tempting it is to withdraw from the world, the world is not going to withdraw from us. We are people who live in community. We are all a part of a beautiful, thriving, complicated and sometimes worrying society. There’s no way for us to opt out of that. For better or for worse, we will influence and be influenced by the world around us. We may as well acknowledge it and do our best to make the relationship a positive one.