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Issue 21.3 of the Review for Religious, 1962. ; International Congress on Vocations In the spring of 1960 His Eminence, Valerio Cardinal Valeri, Prefect of the Sacred Congregation of Religious, announced that there would be an international congress in Rome of the two hundred most famous vocation spe-cialists of the world from December 10-16, 1961. From the discussions and resolutions of such competent men would be formulated a program which subsequently would be put into effect by the Pontifical Organization for Religious Vocations. A year was spent in selecting the speakers and partici-pants and arranging topics for discussion. Then in Au-gust, Father Godfrey Poage, C.P., Director of the Reli-gious Vocation Clubs in America and Delegate of the Conference of Major Superiors, was summoned to Rome to undertake the directorship of the Congress. The Domus Mariae, a beautiful new convention center in west suburban Rome, was chosen as the site of the Congress, and contracts were let for building the displays and exhibitions. Twenty-six nations through their Con-ferences of Major Superiors agreed to demonstrate their materials and techniques used in the promotion of voca-tions. Also the most prominent publishers of vocational materials were invited to participate. The two companies in America so honored were George Pflaum Inc., of Day-ton, Ohio, publishers of the Catholic Messengers and the Paulist Press of New York City, publishers of the zldult Education Program for Vocations. As arrangements progressed, His Eminence, Cardinal Valeri, decided to increase the number of participants in order to extend the effectiveness of this great meeting. Invitations, therefore, were sent to all superiors general in the world as well as to seven hundred and sixty-one selected fathers and brothers provincial. All Conferences of Major Superiors, likewise, were asked to send delegates. 4- 4- 4- on Vocatlo~ VOLUME 21, 1962 Congress REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Specialists in sociology, psychology, pastoral theology, and allied subjects were invited from the principal universi-ties of the world. National directors of youth groups and vocation associations were also welcomed. Thus.during the days of the Congress there were in attendance 7 cardinals, 't2 bishops, 18 abbots, 179 supe-riors general, and 1'~89 delegates and auditors from '[1 nations, making it the largest gathering of authorities in the history of the Church to study one specific problem; namely, the recruitment of more priests, brothers, and sisters. One month prior to the Congress all religious com-munities in the world and all dioceses with vocation office:; were asked to make a spiritual contribution. Over one' million Masses were.offered for this intention, as well as innumerable prayers, sacrifices, and good works from both religious and faithful. Five special Masses were prepared by the Sacred Con-gregation of Rites and released just before the Congress for insertion in the Roman Missal. They are: 1) For the Seeking and Fostering of Religious Voca-tions; 2) For the Seeking of Ecclesiastical Vocations; 3) For the Preserving of Vocations; 4) For the Day of Profession Of Religious Men; 5) For the Day of Profession of Religious Women.1 The solemn opening of the Congress took place on Sunday evening, December 10, 1961, at the Basilica of St. Mary Major. His Eminence, Valerio Cardinal Valeri, offered the special Vocation Mass, assisted by officials of the Sacred Congregation of Religious. Since thousands of posters had been distributed throughout the city ask-ing the laity to participate with prayers and attendance at Mass, the Basilica was filled to overflowing for the func-tion and sermon. As the prelates, superiors, delegates, and specialists ar-rived at Doraus Mariae on Monday morning, December 11, they were directed by a corps of professional ushers to registration desks, identified by position, tagged, given lapel flags of their various nations, programs, and copies of the addresses in the language of their preference. An-nouncements were made in six languages, seating was in order of ecclesiastical dignity, and multi-lingual tran:;la-tors were on hand for discussion periods. All sessions be-gan and concluded promptly at the designated times, .and the addresses of the principal speakers were carried by Vatican Radio. In his opening address Cardinal Valeri pointed out that a generation ago Europe furnished eighty-five per cent of 1 C~opies of these Masses may be obtained from local church good stores or from the Vatican Polyglot Press, Vatican City. the foreign mission personnel. Now European dioceses and communities are not able to maintain their own in-stitutions, much less send out missionaries. "To find ways and means of remedying this situation," he explained, "all present have been invited to discuss the problems involved and suggest a program for the PontificaiOi~gani-zation for Religious Vocations to promote." The first speaker was Dr. Francis Houtart, Director of the Brussels Center for Social Research. He pointed out that while there is a slight increase in the numbers of priests and religious being currently recruited and trained, it is not sufficient to keep pace with the progres-sive growth of the world's population. The annual birth-rate of the world is now forty-seven million---or approxi-mately the total population of Ita!y or Great Britain. Of this number the Catholics are able to reach or influence only eighteen per cent. In the discussion that followed, Father James Forrestal of England, author of a number of statistical studies on priestly and religious vocations, gave the 'percentiles of priests and religious in various parts of the world. In the past year, for example, there were 4,238 priests ordained in the world. Exactly fifty per cent of that number were in America (2,119) and just slightly over half of all the priests ordained in the American Continent were in the United States (1,149). Reports were then made by delegates of all the nations represented. Particular attention was given to the reports of the South American delegates, where Mexico has 4,663 Catholics for each priest; Central America has 6,332 for each priest; and South America, 4,461. To obtain the desired ratio of priests to people, which is one priest per 800 souls; there is an immediate need" for 130,000 priestsl In the afternoon the address was given by Father God-frey Poage, C.P., on the subject "Recruiting and Re-cruiters of Religious Vocations." He explained not only all the means that have been used in the different coun-tries by various recruiters to obtain prospects, but also how to develop new techniques---how to "brainstorm" for more effective recruiting procedures. This was the first time a major address was ever delivered by a Vatican Official before a Roman Congress in English. Afterwards the superiors and delegates present expressed their ap-preciation of the American method with a standing ova-tion. The discussion was led by Father Bertrand de Margerie, S.J., Secretary of the Conference of Major Superiors of Brazil. He pointed out that two great handicaps of the recruiters in South America are ignorance and prejudice. These can be overcome only by proper advertising and public relations. Some of the more conservative delegates ÷ ÷ ÷ Congress on Vocations VOLUME 21, 1962 felt there was no place for "Madison Avenue" techniques in winning souls for Christ and a very spirited debate ensued. The Italians were confident that they would carry the vote at the end, but were dismayed to find they had only the delegates of their own country,. Malta, the North Countries (Norway, Sweden, Denmark), Spain, and South Africa on their side. On Tuesday morning Father Raymond Izard, Director of the Vocation Center of Paris, spoke on "Pastoral Prac-tice and Religious Vocations." He explained the role of the diocesan priest in fostering vocations and the respon-sibility the pastor has in developing the various religious apostolates. He then explained the French system, where direction of vocations is under the guidance of the repre-sentatives of the Bishops' Conference, while the work of the office is shared mutually with representatives of the Conferences of Major Superiors. In the discussion, directed by His Excellency, Joseph Carraro, Bishop of Verona, emphasis was put on how to achieve greater collaboration between diocesan and re. ligious recruiters. The Archdiocese of Chicago, repre-sented by Father ~]ohn Kennelly, the Archdiocesan Voca-tion Director, was singled out as one of several in the world deserving special praise for being areas in which religious recruiters, as coadjutors of the diocesan clergy, work for the common good of all vocations. In the afternoon began a series of theological discus-sions, which was like a dress-rehearsal for the ecumenic~ll council in that the foremost theologians of the world joined in debate with one another, bishops, major su-periors, and cardinals. On Saturday morning, December 16, at nine o'clock all participants in the Congress assembled in the Hall of Benediction at the Vatican to hear a special allocution by His Holiness, Pope John XXIII, on the subject of religious vocations. The text of the allocution is given elsewhere in this issue of the REviEw. The final session of the Congress was devoted to the business of the Vocation Office and to resolutions which will be implemented by the Pontifical Organization for Vocations in the coming year. Congress on Vocations REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS JOHN XXIII Religious Vocations Beloved sonsl Today's meeting1 and the pleasure it evokes in Our heart dispenses with any introduction. Let Us say only this--and We think it sufficient to prove the intensity of Our interest--from the very beginning Our prayers have followed the preparation and realization of this First In-ternational Congress on Religious Vocations. It now gives Us great pleasure to thank the Sacred Con-gregation of Religious and especially you, Cardinal Valeri, for wanting to undertake such an enormous em terprise, a work which the competence of many experts has brought to a successful conclusion. Sublimity o[ the Religious Vocation This Congress has accentuated a very delicate and urgent problem; namely, the increasing of vocations to the states of perfection in the world today. The simple merition of this theme of the Congress conjures up many images in which there are reasons for profound joy and hope, and at the same time reasons for apprehension and uncertainty. On the one hand We see the different reli-gious families being constantly renewed with young as-pirants because of the fascinating attraction of their in-numerable forms of ordered life. On the other hand, We see the obstacles which the spirit of the world raises against producing vocations-~obstacles of the ever-recur-ring attractions of the threefold concupiscences (1 Jn 2:16) which are diametrically opposed to the vows of re-ligious perfection. Suffice it to refer to the lax mentality which today makes use of the press, radio and television, to defile even the sanctuary of the home. This state of affairs, however, is not something new. It is only more noticed today because of its diffusion and gravity. Moreover, it poses new problems and difficulties for the director of souls and for those who are concerned with recruiting, directing, and safeguarding vocations. ~The following is an English translation of the allocution deliv-ered on December 16, 1961 to those attending the First International Congress on Vocations to the State of Perfection. 4. Religious Vocations VOLUME 21, 1962 179 ÷ ÷ ÷ John XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Accordingly, We salute with special praise and en-couragement this important undertaking of the Sacred Congregation of Religious. This problem of religious and priestly vocations is the daily worry of the Holy Father; it is ~he intention of his prayer, and the ardent aspiration' of his soul. This is the intention for which We offer the fourth joyful mystery of Our Rosary as We contemplate Mary giying the Eternal Priest of the New Law to the heavenly Father. As We said in the beginning of October: "It is beautiful to see in that mystery our highest hopes regarding the priesthood perennially fulfilled: young students in seminaries, religious houses, missionary col-leges, whose expansion, despite difl~cuhies and obstacles in the present day, is a consoling sight, evoking exclama-tions of admiration and joy" (L'Osservatore Romano, Oct. I, 1961, p. 2). Regarding the training of vocations to the religious and priestly, life, We have already offered paternal sug-gestions in Our discourse to the rectors of major and minor seminaries of Italy on July 29 of this year. We con-sidered at that time the great respon.sibility of this work. We treated the spiritual formation of the young seminar-ians for the priestly and religious life as well as their in-tellectual training (AAS, v. 53 [1961], pp. 559-65). Today, therefore, We wish rather to emphasize the beauty of the vocation to the priestly and religious state. Moreover, the religious congregations of women repre-sented here widen the scope of this meeting. There are countless numbers who through their example show a life hidden with Christ in God (Col 3:3), a life of abnega-tion, of zealous service, of following the dictates of God's will. They offer to the world, which is scarcely able to appreciate it, the living example of perfect virginity o~! heart and supreme generosity. This evokes a joyous re-sponse from so many good daughters of cities and towns, who, coming mostly from Catholic Vocation Clubs, are attracted by these ideals and wish to follow them in live~ lived solely for God and neighbor. Many Forms of Total Consecration o[ Self to God Such is the wonder of a vocation that We anxiously and confidently praise those wholesome and virtuous Christian families in which flower the new generation, "the new olive plants" (Ps 127:3) of tomorrow. Particularly do We praise the young men and women who are more aware of the needs for the expansion of the Kingdom of God and are consequently thinking of their own perfec-tion and the salvation of souls. We remind them that the voice of Christ resounds continuously throughout the world, gently persuading those habituated to prayer, apostolic service, and sacrifice to become hunters of souls. Jesus calls invitingly: "If you wish to.be perfect, go,. sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven, and come, follow Me" (Mr 19:21). This is losing oneself in order to find; it is a giving to Him Who is able to reserve for us in eternal life a hun-dredfold more than we now give on. earth of our energies, talents, and abilities. The innumerable religious families which exercise their apostolate throughout the world give to youth a most complete ideal for which they can well live and die. In these families the Church offers many modes of conse-cration to God, ranging from the ancient monastic orders to the most active modern congregations, all of which in one way or another prolong in time some particular as-pect of Christ's mission. To joifi one of these groups, when called, means to find again His life and imitate it for the spread of the Gospel (Mk 8:35). Sometimes contemplative communities are misunderstood and do not seem to contribute to the apos-tolate. But as Our predecessor, Pope Pius XI, explained: "Much more is contributed to the growth and develop-ment of the Church by contemplative groups than by those who perform the actual labors, for it is they who call down from heaven the vivifying graces to irrigate the plowed fields of the other apostolic workers" (Bull Um-bratilera, AAS v. 16 [1924], p. 389). The fields of religious perfection are almost limitless, since the impulse for the apostolate derives its motivation from the constant seeking after God alone, from fidelity to His grace, and from continual efforts for greater in-terior recollection. Now the fields are ripe for the harvest, needing apostolic hands and helping hands. There is the missionary apostolate which needs many vocations in order to meet the increased contingencies of spreading the gospel throughout the world. Then there is the care of souls in parishes of our large cities where so many re-ligious families are already working with great success. There is also the very speEialized work of the moral and intellectual instruction of youths whose parents with a confidence that will not go unrewarded entrust them to religious men and women. Moreover, there are the in-numerable forms of charity and works of mercy in which so many orders and congregations distinguish themselves, all perpetuating on earth the charity of our Lord, of whom it is written, "He went about doing good and healing all" (Acts 10:38). New Horizons Ior the Harvest o[ Christ These tremendous needs for more workers for the harvest oblige all of us to study and do our utmost that from our modern society, as in the days of the famous ÷ ÷ Religious Vocations VOLUME 21, 1962 ]8] 4. ]elm REV;EW FOR REL;G~OUS 182 founders and reformers, great numbers of youths will respond to our Lord's invitation. New horizons are open-ing in the very near future during the celebration of the ecumenical council. Moreove.r, history teaches that there is always a period of extraordinary spiritual fecundity after an ecumenical council, for the Holy Spirit evokes generous vocations and gives to the Church the right and necessary men. This promise of faith and hope stirs Our heart with a divine yearning. Continue, therefore, your combined efforts to encour-age reIigious vocations by every means, presenting to the youths the beauty and attraction of your life in ways that are more appealing. Make use of the extraordinary means which the press, the radio, and television offer for spread-ing these great ideas. Moreover, remember it is necessary. to work together with order and mutual respect, having always in mind the greater welfare of the universal Church in which there is room for all. Study how. to dis-tribute both priests and religious to those places which have the most need, overcoming understandable preoc-cupations. In a word, exert every effort to increase voca-tions everywhere. The activity which will commence at the Sacred Con-gregation of Religious and in each of your institutes at the conclusion of this Congress will be multiple and de-manding. But We shall be with you in spirit, in blessing, and in prayer. 0 Jesus, send laborers into Your fields, which are await-ing holy apostles, saintly priests, heroic missionaries, gentle and indefatigible sistersl Enkindle in the hearts of young men and women the spark of a vocation. Grant that Christian families may desire to be distinguished by giving to Your Church cooperators in the work of to-morrowl Anxiety [or the People o] the Congo Beloved sons and daughtersl Since We are speaking under very opportune circum-stances in that you represent all the countries of the world; let Us, your Father, share with you a deep sorrow, as if to garner encouragement and renewed confidence from the common sharing of this sorrow. The considerations which We have made have opened. before your eyes promising horizons for a fruitful apos, tolate and generous, charitable service in all countries without distinction, even beyond those barriers where Christianity is not acknowledged. News reports which reach the Holy Father are not all joyful. You know what has been happening for the past fifteen months and especially the past few days in the Congo. In the act of reaping from the tree of political in- dependence those hoped-for fruits of prosperity, prestige, and works of peace, the earth of that blessed country is now bathed in bloodl The people, and especially the youth, are suffering so acutely that the outlook for the future is most uncertain. Having daily contact with the Blood of Christ ~in' the mystery of the Eucharist, We cannot remain unmoved at the sight of so much suffering, such ruin of the moral and social order. The consequences produced by this state of affairs greatly distress Us. Even as you understand my words, beloved sons and daughters, so We are certain that others cannot do other-wise than understand them, wherever Our sad message may reach. The affliction caused by this evil oppresses Our soul. Therefore We turn beseechingly to those who can and ought to intervene, so that with disinterested counsel, ob-jective information, and an appreciation of rights, they may cooperate in reestablishing peace in that country and bring about peaceful and serene days for all. This is the fervent prayer, which We raise to the om-nipotent God through the intercession of Our heavenly Mother. We would like to see all here present and all those of good heart and soul, who would like to be united with Us, to join in this prayer. These paternal desires are accompanied with a special Apostolic Blessing, first to you, Cardinal Prefect, and your collaborators in the Sacred Congregation; for the of-ficials of the Pontifical Work for Religious Vocations; for all here present; for all your religious institutes; and for your own families; and, finally, in the spirit of good-will, to all youths in seminaries and houses of formation, who are preparing to consecrate themselves totally to God, to the Church, and to the service of their fellowmen. Religious gocatiom VOLUME 21, 1962 ]83 GODFREY POAGE, C.P. Recruiting Religious Vocations ÷ ÷ ÷ God[rey Poage, C.P., is the Director of the Religious Voca-tions Clubs in America. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 184 For1 the past eight hundred years Dante Alighieri has brightened men's mind~ and stirred their hearts with the profound and wholesome message of his Divine Comedy. In this great poem the Italian master tells how he was per-suaded to undertake a long journey, first of purgation. then purification., and finally union. His guide the most important part of the way was the incomparable Beatrice, and the closer he approached to Divine Union, the brighter and more beautiful became the face of his guide. Somehow this journey is analogous to the work of re-cruiting religious vocations. We, like Beatrice, are called upon to lead others on a difficult way. First we must take our proteges through a period of purgation and trial-- then we must develop in them habits of virtue and purify them for a new life. Finally, we must bring them to the th~:eshold of the seminary or novitiate and there say, as Beatrice did to Dante, "Turn now and look, for here is found Paradisel" First Step: Setting Objectives To succeed in such important work, we must have clear-cut objectives and practical means of attaining them. To help us the Holy See has outlined the principles and norms that must be followed. The experience of prudent and capable recruiters has shown the practical applica-tion of these directives. If only we combine the two with prayer, success will follow. In the General Statutes accompanying the apostolic constitution of Pope Pius XII, Sedes Sapientiae, we are told that three things are needed to increase vocations: 1) Fervent. prayer to the Lord of the harvest that ]-Ie send laborers into His harvest (Mt 9:38); 1 This is the text of an address delivered to the First International Congress on Vocations to the State of Perfection. 2) the resplendent example of religious sanctity; 3) the ardent and perpetual exercise of apostolic zeal. (Art 23, ¶ l) Through prayer we win for the youths the grace of a vocation and the generosity to respond. Through advertising and .various promotidnal"tech-niques, we acquaint youths and their parents with the na-ture of our life. Seeing our happiness and the good we are accomplishing, they are forced to the speculative judg-ment: "The priesthood or religious life is goodY' But before anyone can make the practical judgment-- "The priesthood or religious life is good for mel"--it is necessary that he see the intrinsic good of the religious state. This good is not immediately evident in itself, so the will must be induced by some force outside itself to make the choice. Helping a youth to make this practical "judgment is the most important work of the recruiter. Sometimes we hear it said that every priest or religious is a recruiter ex officio. The pastor in his pulpit is a re-cruiter. So is the brother in the classroom, the nurse at the patient's bedside, or the missionary in foreign lands. The truth of these statements depends on what we mean by recruiting. The ability to recruit--to inspire and direct youths-- is not something every priest or religious has instinctively. It is a skill that is developed--something a person is trained to use expertly. It is based on knowledge; knowl-edge of how God calls an individual to His service; knowlo edge of how the Church calls a person to the religious life or priesthood; and knowledge of human nature. All this, however, is matter for other sessions of the Congress. Here we are confining ourselves to techniques and pro-cedures in recruitment. Second Step: Contacting Suitable Youths Once our objectives are determined, we then proceed to the most effective means of contacting suitable youths. Recently a report, entitled "Methods of Recruiting," was published by Father Leonard P. Stocker, O.M.I., at the Catholic University of America. It was a compilation of one hundred replies from seminaries and novitiates re-garding the methods they had used to obtain their pres-ent enrollments. Here, in summary, are his findings: Techniques Groups Using Literature: Pamphlets, folders, etc .8.1 Visits to elementary schools .6.5 Visits to high schools .5.6 Magazine advertisements .43 Response from "Vocation Sundays" . .43 Publicity in diocesan papers .35 Faculty preaching on vocations .30 ÷ ÷ + Recruiting VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ Godfrey Poage, C.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]86 Other paid publicity programs .30 Visits to ho,nes of likely candidates .30 Vocation exhibits . 29 Posters . 26 "Open-House" days at the seminary for prospects . 18 Vocation retreats . 11 Vocation movies . . 9 Vocation correspondence courses for prospects . : . 6 Missions . 4 Seminary bulletin or newspaper .3 Picnics at the seminary for altar boy groups . 2 Vocation talk by bishop at confirmation . 1 Ordination held in home parish . 1 Essay" contest . l By studying how other seminaries and novitiates have obtained candidates we learn what has been done. Some of the techniques we can use; other ideas we can develop. But our vocation work should be more than a simple imi-tation of others. Each one of us should contribute some-thing new to the vocation movement. There should be some way of utilizing the wisdom and experience of all our members, that more effective means of meeting our vocation problems might be found. More El~ective Recruiting One of the great secrets of progress in science and dustry has been the fact that scientists and manufacturers have joined in associations of creative research. The~ have studied not only the how and why of things, but they have also exerted a conscious creative effort to discover new lacts, arrive at new combinations, and find new ap-plications. Our problem as recruiters is not the improvement things, but the improvement of personal relations. We want to obtain better response from youths, greater co-operation from parents, and a deeper understanding the religious life in the laity. But how can this be achieved? Only by prayerful reflection and diligent exer-cise of our God-given facultiesl When we exercise our memories and imaginations in prayerful meditation, the gift of understanding--under the excitation of grace--becomes operative. We see things in a different light; we go deeper into the problem. Some spiritual writers call these insights and inspirations the "lights of prayer." This same method should be used in tackling our voca-tion problems. After prayer to the Holy Spirit for better understanding, we must set about exercising our natural faculties. First of all, we should read as much on the subject as possible. We should fill our memories with the facts and statistics of vocational research. We should study re-cruiters' reports and analyze their surveys. We should visit exhibits to observe the techniques and procedures that have been found most successful by prudent and learned recruiters in various areas. Then in association with our fellow recruiters .we should give our imagination priority over judgment and let it roam around our objectives. We might even mal~e a conscious effort to think up the most unique ways of in-spiring and motivating youths .towards our own state of life. At this point we are simply trying to separate imagi-nation from judgment. With most of us there is a strong tendency, as a result of education and experience, to think judicially rather than creatively. In consequence, we tend to impede the fluency of ideas by applying our critical judgment too soon. On the other hand, if only we defer judgment, we can think up far more alternatives from which later to choose. In his book, Applied Imagination, Alex F. Osborn, President of the Creative Education Foundation in Amer-ica, warns: It is most important to guard against being both critical and creative at one and the same time. Inevitably, if we let our judgment intrude prematurely, we tend to abort ideas which could prove to be the most valuable of all. Therefore, we should consciously defer evaluation until a later period. Thus we can think up more and better ideas. Then later we can screen and weigh these ideas more judiciously. This in no way belittles the value of judgment, for imagination-without-judgment is even more deplorable than judgment-without-imagination. The warning is sim-ply that we use both faculties., but one at a time. This technique has come to be known in America as "Organized Ideation," or more popularly, "Brainstorm Sessions." The system is aptly named, for those who par-ticipate in such a session use their brains to storm a prob-lem, with each participant audaciously attacking the same objective. "Brainstorming" ]or Vocations At a Vocation Institute for the Franciscan recruiters of the United States, held at San Juan Bautista, Califor-nia, in 1958, this "brainstorming" technique was used. Six of the recruiters present were selected as a core'group, and a seventh was chosen as recorder or secretary. This latter religious stood at a large, portable blackboard which had been set off to the side. The conference began very informally--the core group at a table in front, the others sitting in a semicircle. The host provincial began with a prayer. Since I had been asked to serve as moderator of this group, I reminded the participants that, if they tried to get hot and cold water out of the same faucet at the same + + + Recruiting VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ Godf!'cy Poage, C.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]88 time, they would get only tepid water. "If you try to criti-cize and create simultaneously," I said, "you don't turn out enough cold criticisms or enough hot ideas. You are simply lukewarm. Accordingly, I ask you today to stick to ideas. Tomorrow you will do .the criticizing. Conse-quently, if I hear a belittling or derogatory remark, I will ring this bell before me. Whoever is speak.ing will thereby be reminded either to thinl~ up or shut Earlier in the day we had considered the contribution that motivational analysts can make to our understand. ing of why people think and act the way they do. We had attempted to explore the new science of psychodynamics, known popularly as the "depth approach." Could the insights gleaned from psychiatry and the social sciences, we asked ourselves, give clues to some the problems facing the modern recruiter? How, for ex-ample, with the complexity of orders and congregations in the Church can we account for a young man having a strong preference for one particular group of religious, though he may never have met one of them in person? Why do some good Catholics praise a parent who lets a son go of[ to the brotherhood and in the next breath com-ment: "That boy certainly doesn't love his homel" The use of mass psychoanalysis to guide campaigns persuasion, we know, has become the basis of a multi-million dollar industry. Professional persuaders have seized upon psychological techniques in their groping for more ef[ective ways to sell .us their wares--whether prod-ucts, ideas, attitudes, candidates, goals, or states of mind. The recruiters present were'well-primed and ready to go. A time limit from five to eight minutes was set for each subject. The secretary was instructed to write down on the blackboard all the ideas suggested. The list was to be reportorial, rather than stenographic. This was a good provision, for at times the ideas tumbled out so fast that even a short-hand expert would have given up. The first problem considered was the finding of a "key-factor" for Franciscan advertising. In five minutes the core group suggested fifteen themes, ranging from the glorification of the "capuche" to a description of their "soup-kitchens for the poor." In the eight minutes devoted to the problem of how they might get more boys interested in their community, forty-one proposals were given. They ran the gamut from publicizing the "flying friars" to "Franciscan firsts--like Christmas cribs and credit-unions." Since one ef[ective strategy of merchandisers is to have personages of indisputably high status invite others to join them in the use of some product or service, I next risked the panel to name all the prominent national and international ~gures who would willingly give an en. dorsement to the Franciscan way of life. In three minutes they tallied eighteen names. When we took up the problem of how to get more lay brothers, we first admitted that domestic work and clean-ing of monasteries, which is the principal employment of these men, is not an appealing work for modern°youth. It implies servility, meniality, and drudgery. Accordingly, how could the propaganda for the brotherhood bring out a sense of worth and esteem? In five minutes eighteen new approaches were sug. gested. None of them were in direct praise of housekeep-ing, but indirectly they brought out how essential the lay brother is to the life and work of the Order. He is "God's marine in the fox-hole of the cloister," the "hands and feet of Christ," and so forth. Evaluation o[ the Session In just a little over an hour this "Brainstorm Session" covered ten different problems and produced one hun-dred and seventy-eight new ideas. The provincial then recessed the meeting with a prayer of thanksgiving. Later each recruiter present was given a mimeographed copy of all the ideas mentioned, each listed under its proper heading. He was asked to study the suggestions, discuss them with others, add or subtract as he wished. The next day we met for an evaluation of the ideas produced. After the opening prayer, the secretary read off each proposal under its proper heading. All the recruiters now participated: Some suggestions they dismissed with a laugh. Others they tore to shreds and then tried to sal-vage. Some ideas they combined and came up with hy-brids. It was a most interesting discussion and the older and wiser heads seemed to dominate. Constantly we heard re-marks like: "That was tried once before . " "Let's not overlook the effect such a thing will have on other groups," and so on. In the end, the fathers were asked to vote on which suggestion they considered the best in each category. After the merciless screening and discussion that had been given every good proposal, one idea invariably domi-nated. When the votes were tallied, it was found that most of the fathers wanted to put this idea into effect. Thus they gained an unanimity of judgment and a more imaginative approach to their recruitment. Third Step: Conditioning Prospects During the first six months of this year through various recruiting programs, an estimated twenty-six thousand Catholic boys in the United States signed vocation "in-terest- cards" or wrote to a religious seminary or novitiate Recruiting VOLUME 21, 1%2 189 ÷ ÷ Go~ey ~.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS for further information. Of this number just a little over two thousand eventually made application and entered upon their religious training last September. Why were there so many who did not even try the life? As all re-cruiters know, it was due principally to a loss of enthusi-asm. At first the youths were most interested. Then they found out what was expected of them and their enthusi-asm waned. If you had asked these young men why they gave up, they would have replied: "I didn't know it was so hard," or "It wasn't what I expected." Perhaps if we had given more of these promising youths a proper conditioning, greater numbers would have signed up. Many of them needed to be prepared for the life. They needed to be initiated into what would be expected of them in a seminary or novitiate. This conditioning, however, is something very few re-cruiters can handle personally. Besides the fact that those recruiters who are not priests are unable to hear con-, fessions or undertake personal spiritual direction of pros-pects, there is the matter of time and distance. A good recruiter is rarely found at home, waiting for youths to come calling. He is out visiting schools and homes where they are to be found. This often means weeks "on the road." Spiritual direction to be effective must extend over several months prior to the youth's acceptance into a seminary or novitiate and it must be continued with a measure of regularity. Practically the only one capable of giving this time and attention is the youth's pastor or some zealous priest stationed in the area. Recruiters who recognize the importance of this spirit-ual direction invariably refer their prospects to one 0f these priests. They urge the youth to go regularly to this director for confession and counsel. At their Vocational Congress, held at De La Salle Nor-mal in Lafayette, Louisiana, the Christian Brothers drafted a "Recruiter's Rule," which has since become the standard practice for the recruiters in their five Provinces of the United 'States. In this "Rule" they insist that each boy applying to their community have his own spiritual director. The brothers also drafted a plan of spiritual formation which each of their teachers is required to follow. It con-sists of five points: 1) Mental Prayer: After giving the youth instruction in how to make mental" prayer, urge him to devote at least ten minutes to it daily in ~hurch. 2) Spiritual Reading: Recommend reading of the Cos- pels, the Imitation o[ Christ, the Life of Christ, biog-raphies of the saints, and so forth. 3) Examination o[ Conscience: Have the youth make this examination daily and stress the importance of con-trition. 4) Virtue o[ Religion: Inculcate it by daily Mass and Communion, rosary, visits, aspirations, and all other forms of consciously acknowledging God's supremacy. 5) Virtue o[ Generosity: Urge the young man to cultivate it in school and at home, by. pointing out. how he can give himself for others. Vocation Clubs One of the best systems for achieving these purposes is the Vocation Club. It not only strengthens the interest of younger prospects, but also dispels the ignorance and overcomes the timidity of older boys. Through its activi-ties suitable youths are given a systematic indoctrination on all aspects of the priesthood and religious life as well as the regular motivation needed to develop habits of piety and devotion. At every meeting of the club there is some new instruc-tion on what a religious vocation is and how the members can best respond to God's call. Talks are given; round-table discussions are held; and vocational films are shown. On special occasions there are trips to religious institutes in the area, where the youths observe at first-hand the life and work of the religious. At the regular meetings, moreover, there is ample op-portunity not only for group encouragement to more fre-quent prayer and faithful reception of the sacraments but also for private counseling and regular spiritual direction. Thus, as habits of virtue are developed in the youth, he is gradually disposed to' the supreme act of religion; namely, giving himself completely to God. At present in the United States there are affiliated with our National Office for Vocational Clubs over six hun-dred elementary school units and approximately three hundred and seventy secondary school groups-~having a combined membership of approximately thirty-eight thousand boys. There is an even greater number of girls enrolled in similar clubs conducted by sisters. Handbooks on both groups can be obtained at the booth exhibiting American materials. Final Step: Developing a Sense of Vocation During this period of preparation or formation all re-cruiters agree that the youth should be encouraged to go weekly to the spiritual director for confession. Then every two or three weeks there should be a spiritual conference. ÷ ÷ ÷ Recruiting VOLUME 21, 1962 ]9] 4. 4" 4" God,roy Poage, C.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS During these conferences the director should treat of the love of God, the necessity of sacrifice, purity of intention, the nature of temptation, devotion to the Blessed Mother, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, and the like. Life in the seminary or novitiate should also be ex-plained. Special emphasis should be given to the possible problems of homesickness, dryness at prayer, fear of studies, and difficulties with companiqns. At the same time the director should try to deepen the youth's aware-ness of the uniqueness of his vocation and elicit a great willingness to make any sacrifice to follow it. During this time, too, the youth should be encquraged to disclose any doubts or fears. The director might ask: "Who put this idea of a vocation in your mind? Where did it come from? Did it come from the devil? Nol Do you think the devil wants you to be a leader in Christ's army? Of course not! The inspiration, then, must be from God, and if He has chosen you, He doesn't demand anything beyond your strength. He simply offers you an invitation. You can accept or reject. What will it be?" It is particularly important that the spiritual director develop in these youths a sense of vocation. Each one should think: "If God is really calling me, then I should prepare myself immediately so as not to lose time in giv-ing Christ the benefit of my capacities, my faculties, my love. I am going to continue in this conviction, until my spiritual director or a religious superior in Christ's name tells me that I have no vocation." Once a boy has reached this degree of conviction, problems of a different nature arise. Sometimes the pros.- pect will say, "I never had any worry about purity until now. Just when I want to do something worthwhile and enter religious life, I start getting all kinds of temptations. I never realized I was so weak until now." This should be a cue to the spiritual director to bring in a thorough explanation of' the reason for temptation. Many youths have the erroneous notion that the moment they put on a cassock or habit, they will become immune to any rebellion of the flesh. The director, therefore, should point out to them that when the devil sees one erl-tering religion he only renews his assaults the more fiercely. Mortification and prayer, however, will quickly rout him. The director s.hould constantly emphasize that what-ever comes, it is but a test of one's love for God. It is a test of one's trust. It is a test of one's absolute abandon-ment to God's holy will. Many of us would have given up the struggle years ago, if we had not been schooled from the very beginning to ask ourselves, "What am I here for? Is it not for God? I expect to suffer like Christ. The more I can take for Him, the more generously I can give in return." With these same thoughts our prospects should now be prepared for the seminary or novitiate, lest they become disheartened later when trials and temptations beset them. Making the Decision ¯ To the inevitable and final question of youths, "Do you advise me to enter?" most experienced recruiters think it best to say, "You must make the decision. It is yourself and your will that you are offering to Christ." Others would go a little further and say, "I give my approval to your decision to enter. You have shown a love of Christ, a desire to please Him and live for Him, a gpirit of sacrifice, of humility, docility, and obedience. Why not offer yourself to Christ saying, 'Here I am, if you can use me'? Trust Him to give you the right answer through your superiors, His representatives. Even if you should leave, your doubts will be settled for all time. You will have gained immensely by the spiritual training and Christ will bless you always for having offered yourself." Most recruiters never have to go this far. Long before they reach this point, they notice that the love for God in the genuine prospect has reached such an intensity that the response is almost instantaneous. There is a generosity that wants to sweep away all obstacles, a willingness that brooks no rival and needs no apology or defense. It is something hard to define, and yet you can see it filling the heart of the youth with an eager desire to do that which is so dit~icult to human nature. It prompts such a one to give up heroically all that the world offers that the divine life within the soul might be brought to a greater perfection. This phenomenon almost defies description. For lack of a better explanation, I can say only that it is like a "light in their eyes." It is something found in every generous prospect for the seminary or novitiate. Our responsibility in all this is very clear. We must encourage, nourish, and protect, this manifestation of grace. For once we have said, "This boy has a vocation," then we mean that we have seen in such an individual an act of devotion in a degree which is superlative. We have found a soul in whom there are strong, firm habits of vir-tue, and that soul now shows a prompt,, eager willto serve God. Like Beatrice with Dante, we must be both guide and guardian to such a favored youth, leading him on to the threshold of the seminary or novitiate. That, in a word, is the role of the recruiter and the purpose of our recruit-ing procedures. ÷ ÷ ÷ Recruiting VOLUME 21, 1962 195 BROTHER JOHN JOSEPH, C.F.X. Challenging Youth to Follow Christ ÷ ÷ + Brother John Jo-seph, C.F.X., is the general counsellor and the general vo-cation director of the Xaverian broth-ers. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Therex is a joyful ring in the word challenge that evokes a responsive echo in noble hearts. This response would almost appear to be a natural reaction of the human heart, for we note it even in the very young. Watching them at play you see how eagerly they respond and "follow the leader" in whatever dangerous exploit he may devise to challenge their bravery. This reaction is equally dis-cernible in the growing youth when he engages in ath-letic competition or similar activities. The recent example in the United States of the call for youth to join the Peace Corps furnishes another proof of the eagerness of young people to respond to a challenge When the purposes are clearly set forth. Likewise, a brief glance down the page of history reveals how responsive men can be when they have found a leader in whom they believe, a cause they really value, or an emergency that brooks no hesitation. Consider the legions of Alexander,, Hannibal, Caesar, or Napoleon, or any other great leader and you will see how men accept a challenge with utter disregard for personal sacrifice. Note, too, the power of men of ideas. Men like Plato and. Aristotle, Mohammed and Marx, have left their imprint on the countless indi-viduals whom they have challenged. In each case we find a forceful man with. a special message which he has suc-ceeded in getting others to spread. Now in our case we find the ingredients for the most attractive and inspiring challenge in the world's history. For the Leader who brings His challenging ideas is no passing general or philosopher but the Son of God made man. And the message which He has brought, the Gospel which He asks men to spread abroad contains the greatest doctrine and the happiest news of all ages. Its purpose is the eternal happiness of all men. But this purpose will be ~ This is the text oI an address delivered to the First International Congress on Vocations to the State of Perfection, achieved only in the measure that the challenge of Christ is accepted and His gospel made known. This achievement demands that men and women be fully prepared to do more for God than Communists or other misguided per-sons are prepared to do for the spread of their causes. With this in mind we ~ish, first, to stress the character-istics which are essential, we believe, both for the re-cruiter and the one who is recruited. Secondly, we wish to explain one proven method of actually reaching our young people. Then, in the discussion to follow, the dele-gates may tell us of other methods equally effective. The method of which I speak is the result, no~ of the study and thought of any one person or congregation, but rather of the efforts and experiences of many different communities over a period of years. The various congre-gations of teaching brothers in the United States, using an adaptation of the general program, have made aston-ishing progress during the past ten years. From the year 1950 to 1960 every community of brothers in the United States has shown a remarkable growth, ranging from twenty-four and two-tenths percent to an almost incredi-ble ninety and three-tenths percent. As a result of this expansion they have established additional provinces and houses of training, opened many new schools, and now find themselves poised for another period of growth which is expected to outstrip that of the last decade. This is the type of progress that is desired and needed everywhere, but it can be achieved only by planning and hard work. Recruits are obtained only by recruiters and the best recruiters for the religious life are certainly those who have themselves lived that life best and found it to be all or even more than they had anticipated. Now since the primary purpose of the religious life is not some activity like teaching, nursing, preaching, or the like, but rather the perfection of the individual religious, those men and women will be the best recruiters who have best lived the religious life. This explains why some of the saints found it so easy to attract the youth with whom they came in contact. Great souls like St. Francis of Assisi, St. Ignatius of Loyola, St. Theresa, and Mother Cabrini drew numei'ous young people to the religious state, because the very fire of their own love for God made this state seem desirable. The Blessed Brother Benilde left hundreds of religious to carry on his work after his .death, all his former pupils. Don Bosco, too, was a tremendously suc-cessful recruiter, attracting hundreds of previously neg-lected children to the holiness of the priestly or religious state. We can conclude, therefore, that the better we follow the example of the saints, the more successful we shall be in helping to fill our monasteries and convents. ÷ ÷ Challenging Youth VOLUME 21~ 1962 195 + + 4. Brother John Joseph, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 196 If we wish to attract idealistic youths to Christ we must let the love of Christ shine out through our own eyes. As one successful moderator of boys in New York City wrote me: "The religious himself must personify Christ to the students. Modern psychology reveals how much youth needs a model, a hero. It is easier for a boy to see Christ as a model, if he sees Christ in the religious. To do this the religious must be Christ, not just a spokesman for Him." And if he is an Alter Christus he will be kindly, polite, and understanding, demonstrating without hesita-tion a personal interest in each individual, allowing Christ to appeal through his mediation. Again, a successful recruiter must be the very epitome of enthusiasm. He is, in a way, a salesman, and he will make very few sales if he doesn't believe in his product. His own happiness and satisfaction with the kind of life he is presenting to others must be at the bottom of hi,,; appeal. And this-must be based upon his personal faith in Christ and the divine cause. His basic contentment must never appear dimmed by the minor happenings of a par-ticular day, by a temporary indisposition, a disappoint-ment over some failure, or the dissatisfaction with his current superior. While his feet are on the earth, his head must be above the clouds where the source 6f his enthusiasm never changes. Finally, the man who appears before a group of modern youngsters or who must pass the more severe test of giving personal interviews, must be representative of the kind of person our young people would like to imitate. Surely a poorly dressed salesman for wearing apparel would ap-pear ridiculous. Likewise, a recruiter of future clergymen, educational leaders, missionaries, or nurses must, by his professional appearance and speech, make these callings and the noble religious state itself appear in all their in-nate dignity, as states of life attractive to youth and their parents. But no matter how holy, understanding, enthusiastic, and professional the recruiter may be, success will largely depend upon the qualities he finds or develops in the potential candidates he contacts. I need not enumerate the usual qualities of mind and body required for ac-ceptance. But before considering how to challenge our youth, I must stress the fact that the success of any re-cruiter depends in equal measure on the extent to which the potential recruits are blessed with a love for Christ, solid faith, and a willingness to make sacrifices to prove their love. To begin with, why should anyone give up all pros-pects of success in life, the chance of a happy marriage and family? The only possible answer is that such a one has perceived a greater good. He has realized that Jesus Christ is God and worth following no matter what natu-ral attractions must be sacrificed. This demands faith. Of course, every Catholic has received this theological gift, but unless it is nurtured and strengthened by the solid food of doctrine, it won't support one in a time of crisis, such as when making a choice of one's vocation. This faith must be fed on catechetical instruction, good read-ing, and prayerful thinking on such topics as God's great-ness and goodness, the happiness of others who have served Him, the vanity of earthly achievements, and the like. If our youths have a strong faith, their souls are pre-pared for the encouraging words of the recruiter~ who must never stress the secondary aims of his particular con-gregation to the neglect of the primary purpose of all chosen souls, which is to see God, their end. However, believing is in itself only the basic ingredient of vocation. For it is love that will give the unction and desire to follow where faith points the way. Love removes the thorns from the rose. The lover considers no pain un-bearable, nor any sacrifice too great, if only he can please his beloved. In fact, the more he can suffer for the beloved the greater is his joy that he is privileged to prove his love. And in this fact lies the answer to our principal question: How can we challenge modern youth to follow Christ? The answer lies in the development in youth of a fer-vent love for Christ. But they don't see Christ as they see others whom they love. They discern Him only with the eyes of faith. Accordingly the teacher must introduce them to the love of Christ. Leading them to the Sacred Heart is the prelude to their falling in love with Him. By this, I mean, of course, the strengthening of their life of prayer while encouraging the frequent reception of the sacraments. If a young person prays well, receives Christ frequently in Communion, and visits Him often in. the Blessed Sacrament, thus becoming closely attached to Him, then he is certainly better disposed to make the sac-rifice of self required in the priesthood or the religious life. Finally, youth must face the test of generosity. Many will fail the test as did the young man of the Gospel who loved Christ but would_not give up his wealth to follow Him. Others, however, will appreciate the truth in the old adage: "It is more blessed to give than to receive." They will admit that sacrifice hurts, yet they will take up the cross and follow Christ. For this, though, they must be prepared. They must come to realize that the real challenge of any worthwhile activity lies in the sacrifices that must be endured. Once a youth has really understood how to look up smilingly, though tearfully, to a crucified Christ and to see through His broken Body the Godhead, 4- 4- Challenging Youth VOLUME 21, 1962 197 4" 4. Brother ~ohn Joseph, ~.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 198 then will he understand that his wiser choice is not the limited love of creatures, but the all-embracing eternal love. Having now indicated some of the fundamental traits of recruiters and prospective candidates that are essential for a successful contact between the two, we will devote our attention to a concrete program which can be organ-ized within the framework of a religious congregation, particularly if its secondary purpose is teaching. Such a program is already functioning in various organizations within the Church, each adapting the means to its own purpose and traditions. The program brings best results when well coordinated and designed to include every member of the congregation, for the more who are pray-ing, planning, and working, the greater will be the de-gree of success. Accordingly we will consider the pro-gram on the general, provincial, local, and classroom levels, since each level has its own director and particular duties suitable to that level and since the cooperation of each level with those both above and below it is very im-portant. General Level The general vocation director is usually also a coun-sellor or assistant to the superior general with whom he lives at the generalate of the congregation. Thus he is in a good position to see the strong and weak spots in the recruiting programs in each province as well as in the mission fields or vice-provinces. Through correspondence, bulletins, and personal visits, he keeps informed concern.- ing methods and progress throughout the congregation. and in turn keeps the superior general informed. Some of the activities by which he assists the recruiters in the provinces and in the various schools are the following: First, he studies the trends, problems, and methods be-ing used by others, in order to pass along to the provinces any ideas which they may use in the light of their own program. There are three principal ways by which he can maintain an alertness to developing ideas: a) by reading widely in this field, gradually building up a useful file of written materials, reports, propaganda releases, and programs of various other congregations~ as well as a shelf of books on the theology and method: ology of vocation work; b) by consultation with other religious on the gener-alate level in order to compare notes and adapt the proven ideas of others. It can also be useful to study the methods of other organizations to see how they do their enlisting of members; and c) by attendance at vocation conferences, meetings, and exhibitions on the national and international level, since it is especially here that others with similar interests are found and where current problems and trends are re-ported on. Secondly, the general vocation director, through his correspondence and personal c6ntacts with the recruiting leaders in the various provinces of his own congregation, is in a position to pass. on ideas from one province to an-other and so to furnish information on programs which have met with success elsewhere within the community. Thirdly, he is able, either directly in correspondence with provincials or with the province vocation director to offer suggestions for strengthening the program of in-dividual schools. For he receives twice a year a vocation report from each house. These reports are made out in triplicate with a copy being retained in the community itself and two copies being sent to the provincial who, in turn, forwards to the generalate one copy of each report. The chief aim of this report is to ascertain that an active program is carried out in every school of the congregation. This report gives detailed information on the spiritual activities in each school that have as their end the win-ning of God's blessing on the recruiting program, as also on the promotional efforts being used, statistics on the number of students being interviewed, the likely pros-pects, and the number of vocations already obtained for various seminaries or novitiates. Fourthly, the general vocation director can also serve as a publicity director for the congregation as a whole, being aware that the better his community is known the more inquiries will be received from interested persons, and the more candidates will normally apply. This ac-tivity could include the distribution of literature in places where the congregation has no other contacts; spreading knowledge of the institute through the use of slides, pic-tures, or magazine articles; encouraging the preparation within the provinces of articles, pamphlets, pertinent leaflets, book marks, calendars, and the like. This kind of activity can be multiplied according to the policy of the superior general and the time available to the di-rector. However, in my opinion the principal contribution of a vocation director at the general level, is to encourage, Encourage, ENCOURAGEI The work of gathering young people for our novitiates in this day and age is frequently most discouraging, and this work must, in the last analysis, be done on the local and classroom levels. Many a religious teacher does the daily work of instruct-ing, interviewing, and otherwise promoting vocations only to find that at the end of the school year he has not obtained a single candidate from his class. Now if he feels all alone in this discouraging effort, he may easily let up ÷ ÷ ÷ Challenging Youth VOLUME 21~ 1962 199 4. 4, 4. Brother lohn ]oseph, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 200 on his efforts the following year. However, if he knows that he is not alone, but senses that' he is being encour-aged, prayed for, and supported by his brethren and su-periors, then he is less inclined to slacken his efforts. The general vocation director, conscious of the fact that any such slackening of effort tends to lead to the failure of the whole program, must be always optimistic and cheer-ful, ever encouraging the.teachers to keep trying, always suggesting new approaches. The office of general vocation director is still rather new in the developing program of modern vocation re-cruiting but unless there is an officer on the generalate staff to help organize and encourage a congregation-wide program of increasing membership, there is less likelihood that the community will keep pace with the ever-increas-ing demands for personnel that all of us find confronting us today. So important a part of the growth of an insti-tute deserves special consideration by the highest authori-ties of the Order. Provincial Level It is, however, on the level of the separate provinces that most programs of recruitment begin. It is here that methods will begin to vary according to the traditions and religious background of the region in which the houses are situated. Here it is, too, that the representative of the recruiting organization first comes into direct con-tact with the prospects themselves. Though policies and programs may differ, the general aim will always be the same; namely, to lead young men and women to know and to love Christ so that they may be alert to the call which He may deign to give them. So let us here outline a few general steps which have been found useful at this level. The provincial vocation director works according to the instructions of his particular provincial. He may be a member of the council, though in many congregations he is not. In any case it is important that he work .closely with his superior and with the other programs of the separate schools. And it is essential that he have adequate time to carry out a well-planned program. He has a full-. time job and should not be encumbered with other du-ties to the extent of causing the work of recruiting to suffer in the province. For the task of obtaining new postulants cannot be left to chance. Nor to a program of prayer alone. The Lord does, indeed, bid us to pray the Lord to send required laborers into His vineyard, but He uses men to further His purposes and seldom extends His invitation by a direct apparition or heavenly voice. In this matter we can learn from successful organiza-tions in the world. The army and navy, all business firms, every political group or social club has its clearly defined method of obtaining new members. A personnel depart-ment is set up, equipped to supply in[ormation, present the attractive features of membership, as well as to ex-amine and select potentially useful members. Frankly, this is what the office of the provincial vocati0ndirector is also designed to do. This religious must attract poten-tial candidates and then select members for the congre-gation from among those who apply. Though policies vary, and it is a healthy sign that they do, some of the usual activities o[ this office are the following: l) He assists the provincial and the local superiors in the selection o~ at least one vocation director for each of the schools in the province. It is chiefly through their cooperation that the director will carry out the program of the province. 2) He trains, advises, and guides these recruiters. An annual gathering of them all for at least a few days is a usual and useful practice. 3) He sees to the composition and actual preparation of a variety of pamphlets, leaflets, posters, and other ma-terials for distribution to the schools. 4) He publishes a regular (usual!y monthly) bulletin to keep all the religious interested in the programs, poli-cies, and results of the same. G) He visits every school at least two or three times dur-ing the school year, checks on the program of the local directors and the teachers, speaks in the classes or at school assemblies, interviews students who have been recommended to him by the local director, by a teacher, or who present themselves to him following an invitation to do so during his talks to the students; gives a confer-ence each year to every community so that the members will be constantly aware of the needs and aims of the program; develops a library of slides and sometimes of moving pictures to help him in clarifying the mode of life lived in the training schools anal religious communi-ties; and also addresses groups of parents, alumni, or other adult groups among whose members he wishes to arouse interest in vocations. 6) He plans and places advertisements through which Catholic magazines and newspapers may carry informa-tion about the congregation to potential candidates who could not otherwise be reached. 7) He sponsors such events in the schools as essay or poster contests on a province-wide competitive basis, as also vocation exhibitions, prayer campaigns, mission crusades, and other activities which serve to arouse inter-est in the work and needs of the Church. 8) He helps to develop both at the provincial house and in all the communities Small libraries of selected ÷ ,,I-÷ Challenging Youth VOLUME 21, 1962 201 + + ÷ Brother John Joseph, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 202 books and pamphlets concerning religious vocations, oc-casionally preparing an up-to-date bibliography of these publications. 9) He attends conferences and conventions dealing with the problems of vocation recruiting, and maintains contact with other provincial directors. 10) He organizes week-end retreats for students who are interested in vocations so they can prayerfully con-sider this matter in a quiet atmosphere. He may also ar-range for interested students to spend a few days at the training centers of the province. For the good recruiter believes firmly with Canon Jacques Leclercq that "It is the orders which insist most strongly on the supernatural aspect of vocations which receive the most recruits" (The Religious Vocation, p. 85). 11) He represents the provincial in interviewing all candidates, having them fill out all the required forms and then make formal application to the provincial upon whom it usually rests to accept or reject the prospect. 12) He may arrange for special tests of the potential postulants since these tests~ if given prudently, often sup-ply useful information. 13) He visits the homes of the applicants if informa-tion on the family background is needed or if parental opposition makes avisit necessary. 14) He may accompany the new class of aspirants or postulants to the juniorate or novitiate, in order to help them through the period of adjustment to the new en-vironment. He occasionally visits them, especially on the days of the reception of the habit or the taking of vows. 15) Finally, he keeps the general vocation director and, through him, the superior general informed about the progress of recruiting in the province. These numer-ous activities give us an idea of the tremendous impor-tance of the post of provincial vocation director for the successful carrying out of the program of recruitment in the congregation. Local Level We now come to the task of the local vocation director. Here we are getting closer in our systematic approach to reach, inform, and guide youth{For we are now consider-ing the school itself, where the boy and girl are actuallv found. Right here, and not at the provincialate or gen-eralate, are the vocations in person. Accordingly, here it is that the challenge to follow Christ the King must ring out the dearest. The chief responsibility for this lies with that religious who, working closely with the superior and other authorities of the school, encourages and directs the individual teadbers who are in the last analysis the real recruiters. All depends npon the latter just as in a battle the general, captains, and lieutenants depend on the non-commissioned soldier in the ranks. However, let us first consider the essential part of the one who must organize the program in the whole school. His chief du-ties include the following: 1) He must be well-informed on all matters" concern-ing the history of the congregation, its founder and pio-neers, its provinces, numbers, and missions. 2) He must have a pleasant office, well-equipped for interviewing prospects, containing supplies of literature, needed forms, suitable files, and so forth, 3) He must have the school program of recruiting or-ganized, supplying teachers with definite outlines of such program, and checking its success. 4) He should arrange to speak in each class, invite students to visit his office, supply information needed, and aim by a program of education and inspiration to develop the latent vocations in the school. 5) He can sponsor a vocation club for the more thor-ough cultivating of potential vocations, and can encour-age such groups as the Sodality of Our Lady, the various Third Orders, the Legion of Mary, and the Catholic Students' Mission Crusade, since these deepen the spirit-ual life of the students while offering them an outlet for their zeal. 6) He arranges for publicity' for the congregation in local and school publications, featuring activities such as profession, ordination, or jubilees. 7) He does the preliminary work of interviewing defi-nite prospects so that they will be ready to meet the pro-vincial director when he visits the school, In cases where the student is interested in the diocesan priesthood or in a congregation other than that of the counsellor, the con-tact can be made for him and every assistance given him to accomplish his aim. 8) He may find opportunities for seeking out vocations beyond the limits of the school, through talks in other schools or colleges, or to parochial groups of young people who do not attend the Catholic schools. 9). Finally, the local vocation director is the keym~n in the community for all matters pertaining to recruiting although he must avoid the pitfall of believing that it is .his exclusive right to foster vocations in the school. He assists the superior in filling out the required vocation re-ports, if such are a part of the system. He aids the teach-ers by supplying them with needed materials and fresh ideas. He takes a special interest in candidates who have been accepted so as to encourage them to live .closer to Christ through a definite program of prayer, reading, and frequentation of the sacraments. Thus does the local director, if he is efficient, zealous, and capable of winning + + + Challenging Youth VOLUME 21~ 1962 ÷ ÷ B~oth~ John ]o~eph, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 204 the backing of the teachers, do much toward ensuring a successful program. Classroom Level Now we come to speak about the teachers themselves. Nobody is in a better position to challenge youth than the teacher who, day by day, appears before them. If he is truly zealous for the welfare of the Church, he can do much toward planting the seed of vocation in these youthful hearts. His is the actual contact with the future priest, brother, and sister. The success of the program will fail or succeed as he does. Cognizant, then, that there before him sits the future religious of the Church, the teacher must unhesitatingly challenge the very best that is in the hearts and souls of his students. Some suggestions for teachers, then, are in order: 1) The teacher must prepare the soil for religious vo-cations by encouraging attention at prayer and regular attendance at the sacraments. 2) He should stress Christ's love for us and teach youth to reciprocate that love. 3) He should go into detail in explaining the problems of the Church, both at home and in the mission fields; suggesting the part his students can play in solving them. He should dwell upon the loftiness of working for God. 4) In his religion lessons he should not neglect to dis~ cuss the great truths of life that have led so many persons to dedicate their lives to God. Consideration should be given to the fleeting quality of earthly .possessions and pleasures, the dangers of the world, and man's responsi-bility to his Creator. Thus the teacher causes his students to think seriously about life. 5) He should talk to his class occasionally about the religious life, its various apostolates, missionary activities, and lofty purpose. He will find the students interested in the life of the founder and history of the order. He can explain the special privileges and obligations of the priesthood, the difference between a priest and the vari-ous kinds of brothers, the meaning of the vows, the dif-ference between the secular and religio.us clergy, and be-tween the active and contemplative life. These are all interesting topics. 6) The teacher, while keeping all things in perspective, should also point out the joys, benefits, and rewards of the priestly and religious states. 7) He should be pleasant at all times, drawing youth by his kindness. His cheerful, friendly manner shoul~ also be noted in his relations with his fellow religious. For nothing repels youth more than a sour, unfair teacher. 8) He must try to win their confidence that he may intuence their wills and help them to combat the ob-stacles which everywhere oppose vocations. 9) The teacher need not hesitate to suggest, in a pru-dent way, to a particular student that he prayedully con-sider whether he has a vocation. This personal, in.dividual approach is a potent one as success[ul recruiters' know. Personal interviews are more effective than group talks. 10) The teacher should cooperate with the lodal direc-tor in all programs, contests, outings, retreats, or other activities sponsored in the school. The real success of all these depends largely upon him. 11) Finally, the teacher should constantly pray that God may bless his efforts. Such a program, it well organized and put into prac-tice, adapted and modified to the needs and limitations of the area, will certainly carry to the youths o[ today the great challenge of this mid-twentieth century. It will also arouse many of them to give themselves to the service of Christ, our King. To effect such programs we religious must likewise hear and answer the challenge. We must be great-souled in the service o[ a Church that is proud to proclaim itself Catho-lic, seeking as it does to spread the message of Christ to all men in all parts of the world. To be worthy of this service we need a broad outlook, for in such a service the small-minded religious is a contradiction. It is the Church as a whole that is important. Believing this, let us all take a keen interest in filling the seminaries of our dio-ceses, while the same zeal will lead us also to encourage vocations to the religious congregations, which carry on so great a part of the burden of the Church. Our brothers and sisters must realize the privilege that is theirs to lead young men to the sacred priesthood, while the. clergy must recognize the importance of a tremendously en-larged army of well-trained religiou~ [or the advance-ment o[ the educational and charitable systems of the universal Church. Working together under Christ and His Vicar, we can indeed meet the challenge to bring the world to the Sacred Heartl ÷ ÷ ÷ Challenging Youth VOLIJMI: 21~ 205 RENI~ CARPENTIER, S.J. Priestly Vocation and Religious Vocation ÷ ÷ gen~ Carpentier, S.J., is a member of the faculty of Col-l~ ge Saint-Albert, 95, Chauss~e de Mont-Saint-Jean, Eegenhoven - Lou-vain, Belgium. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 206 What is the Will oI the Holy Spirit? The juxtaposition1 of these two terms demands that a comparison of the two be undertaken. As the words indi-cate, an abstract comparison of the content of these two vocations is not in question. Between the priesthood and the state of evangelical perfection the difference is evi-dent: The ministerial priesthood implies sacramental character, strictly divine powers, a sacred responsibility for. the service of the people of God, and the highest, kind of dignity. The state of perfection signifies nothing of the kind. The theoretical comparison, it seems, poses no prob-lem. But it is an altogether different matter when voca-tion to the priesthood and vocation to the religious life are placed face to face in the concrete. In both cases a way of life is chosen. In today's Church these two ways of life appear to young Christians as two ways of consecrating oneself entirely to the Kingdom of God. Necessarily, then, these two ways of life are being com-pared and the comparison brings up a complex problem. Each of these two vocations is fixed within a system of laws and institutions which form a unit; yet both can be chosen at the. same time. In practicE, the two ways of life meet and overlap. It remains true, nevertheless, that or-dinarily priestly vocation means the life of the diocesan priest; and religious vocation means the r~ligious insti-tute with or without the priesthood. The question is then asked--and it is this question which I wish to answer: How is one to explain objectively to young Christians, for example, the meaning Of the two vocations? "Objectively," that is, what does G6d and what does the. Church ask and expect of each? And how is this to be explained without arbitrarily doing an injustice to one or the other, without a This is the text of an address delivered tO the First International Congress on Vocations to the State of Perfection. The translation was made by John E. Becker, S.J. glorifying one at the expense of the other? In short, how is this to be expressed according to the desires of the Holy Spirit in order to cooperate with Him and not to obstruct His action? Exterior Aspect ol the Two Vocations It is necessary, I believe, to distinguish from this objec-tive or essential aspect of the comparison another aspect which I may term exterior; by this I mean what a young person of today, confronted with the great institutions of the Church, can see from the outside before he has en-tered them. This aspect must be of equal interest to us if we wish to know how to enlighten a young candidate and how to develop public action in the Church in favor of vocations, Certainly, the objective value is of greatest interest to us; it is the only one which is true in itself. Whether I am a priest or a religious, what am I really called to? Since this is the most important aspect, it is what should govern the exterior aspect. Nevertheless, the two vocations are mysterious. The young person, the adolescent, and even the adult who approaches the priesthood or the religious state without having lived either of them has not yet fully understood them. What they see are the most superficial differences. For example, a diocesan priest may live with his mother; the religious is fully enfolded in a powerful family. These features are true but nonessential. The priestly or religious ideal appears to the young man in this priest or that religious he has been close to or whose life he has read. I certainly do not wish to speak here of those strictly individual points of view which characterize voca-tions in the concrete; but there will always be an exterior picture of the two vocations which is more or less pro-found, more or less complete. Still, it must not falsify the objective meaning. We seek here the reality of a vocation, its deep and objective meaning, and also its true exterior meaning, the true supernatural psychology of the call which is addressed to Christian people. Recent Discussion The question of the two vocations was very vividly high-lighted thirty or forty years ago. The reason was a most holy and necessary one, an evident appeal of the Lord for the sanctification of diocesan priests. Some of these accord-ing to Cardinal Mercier object: "We are not religious." But are you not, comes the rejoinder, of a quite superior and more demanding "ordbr," "the order of St. Peter," or "the order of Christ," whose priests you are? Here, then, is posed the question of the religious vocation and the vocation to the diocesan priesthood. The matter is complicated by another factor, that of Priest and Religious ,4. Ren~ ¢a~pentier, $.1. REVIEW FOR REL;GIOUS 208 belonging to a diocese. The priest seeks to discover more intimate links with his bishop; but does not the religious priest, and especially the exempt religious, live at the fringe of the influence of the diocesan bishop, "at the fringe of the hierarchy," as it is sometimes expressed? Why does the religious live in this way, on the fringe? Is it not through concern for his own salvation? .If he withdraws from the world, is it not to concern himself with his own salvation? But in that case is not the diocesan priest who from morning to night is focused on the salvation of others actually living out to a greater degree the life of charity, the state of perfection? The vocation to the diocesan priesthood is then not only the vocation with the greatest obligation to perfection, but it is the call to an authentic "diocesan perfection," and even to true evangelical perfection, that is, fraternal charity. And this seems to give the lie to the name and the institution of the s0-called "state of perfection.". On the other hand, this conclusion seems to contradict the facts; for, practically .speaking and because of his state of life, the Church imposes a greater obligation to perfection on the religious. And do not the greater part of religious men and women vow their whole life to the heroic service of the neighbor? And finally, is not the religious fully joined to the Church by a vow of obedience which is frequently directed to the bishop of Rome? Holiness and Fisibility Carried on in this way, the discussions recalled that the question of the two vocations has had a long history. At root, it would seem to derive from the very nature of the Kingdom of God here on earth; that is, unless I am mi.~;- taken, from its twofold essential values, holiness and visi-bility: holiness under the free impulse of the Spirit which gives life to the Church; visibility which makes of the Kingdom of God an institution perfectly adapted to the Spirit. Holiness is the aim; it is the call of all who are baptized and especially of all priests. It is for this, her end, that the Church institutes the states of perfection. On the other hand, visibility, the visible and organiza-tional Church, is the way for all men. An admirable gift from on high, visibility implies the sacramental transmis-sion of holiness, the liturgy of adoration, the soverei~ society of the Church, the sacred jurisdiction that governs the people of God in Christ's name, and finally also, at the very heart of this visible Church, the official institu-tion of the community of perfection. Sanctity and visibility are strictly associated. Concretely they make up but one thing: the Body of Christ which is the Church. Nevertheless, religious life seems centered on sanctity, perfection to be acquired. The vocation to the priesthood is more concerned with the visible aspect, for it must assure the validity bf the Eucharistic cult, the efficaciousness of the sacraments, the solidity of doctrine, the prudent direction of the people of God. The two voca-tions, like the two functions they must fulfill~ are dif-ferent. Nevertheless, the religious life, a public state, is of the highest interest to the visibleGhurch and leads very frequently toward the priesthood; the priesthood, for its part, can have no other aim than the sanctification of the world; and it therefore aims first at the sanctification of the priest and often at his belonging to the state of per-fection. Duality-Unity Here we are at the heart of our problem. Between the two.vocations there is an evident, profound difference and at the same time an intimate connection. It is as if the two values of the. Church, inseparable but necessarily distinct, should appear here with maximum emphasis: spiritual power and institutional power. This distinction between two realities mutually inte-grated, this otherness-oneness of two sets of values which seek one another out and will always do so, this is the point of this paper. We will clarify it first by means of the sacred history of the Church; then we will venture into its theology; finally we would like to deduce some practical attitudes for.success in the sacred task common to all priests and all religious of cultivating the vocations by means of which the Church and humanity survive. First we must take a very brief look at the historical evolution of the two vocations and at their mutual unity-in- tension. In doing this we will distinguish three stages for each of which only a few characteristics will be pro-posed. The Primitive Community The first stage to be considered is that of the primitive community extending throughout the first two centuries up to the time when, in the third century, persecution became intermittent and the separation of the monks occurred as an ecclesiastical event. During this period there was as yet no problem with the two vocations. It is evident that they existed; but the people of God had not yet felt the need to divide itself into distinct com-munities; indeed, the persecutions would have prevented it. It is true that at the call of the apostles the Christians of the first centuries spontaneously answered by adopting a communal and fraternal way of life in which the spirit 0f what would later be called "the counsels" reigned. So it was that in their eyes earthly goods, their own prop- + 4. 4. Priest and Religious VOLUME 21. 1962 209 ÷ ÷ ÷ Ren~ Carpentie~, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 210 erty, are in a certain way destined by charity for the use of all. Catechetical instruction in the first centuries re-peats this principle without creating any problem. Within the community, each one applied it freely. Some kept their goods to support their family. Others, sometimes a large group, the ascetics, and those who practiced celi-bacy, followed Christ more literally. They gave their goods to the poor of the community and lived on the re-sources of all. There were also virgins who definitively renounced marriage and lived in their families. These men and women had a special place in the Church but were not separated out. They were charged with the dis. tribution of the alms of the community and with other works of charity. Perhaps also they may frequently have been deacons and deaconesses. In this fraternal community the priests were very close to the faithful. At the beginning they were virtuous men upon whom the founding Apostle had imposed hands and who could thenceforward consecrate the Eucharist. If the community grew in number, there arose among the priests and bishops one bishop who inherited the author-ity of the Apostle. Soon, it seems, it was from among the ascetics, the celibates, the voluntarily poor that these priests were chosen. Today, the parish of the simple faith-ful is separate from the communities of perfection, and a double catechesis has been formed; one is centered on the counsels while the other often no longer considers them, It is quite a'task to represent ourselves as a community in which the preaching of the counsels in words and deeds is always present, as a community in which there is only one catechesis and where the same spirit is shared by all: those who own as well as those who have given away what they own; those who profess virginity and those who live holy married lives in the Lord. This apostolic cate-chesis demands an extended treatment. The "'Apostolic Life" and the Monks The end of this first period, between 250 and 350, is marked by the separation of the monks. After the new study of the Vita Antonii published by Father Bouyer in 1950, historians have almost reached agreement on the meaning of this event in the history of the Church. The whole Church of that time saw in this new life a return to the ancient "apostolic life" which was no longer truly practiced in the numerous communities of the period. It is a noteworthy historical fact that these "fugitives" separated themselves from their communities. In modern times, we would say that "they exempted themselves from jurisdiction." Were they then criticized and condemned? On the contrary, everyone admired them. Although some bishops in Egypt and even in Rome had to be convinced by the enthusiasm of Athanasius, they fully recognized this more vigorous "apostolic life." Let it be noted, then, that the apostolic life became more specialized and in-stitutionalized in order that it might continue to exist. But it remained at bottom the same thing, and the whole Church bore witness to this. Everyone recognized it by the same name as the primitive apostolic life which had been taught to all during the first two centuries and which had never ceased to exist. This event, then, places the two vocations face to face, but once more without any practical problem arising. There were evidently priests among the "hermits" or "Chris(ians of the desert," whether these lived near their former community or whether they banded together to form a new community. The Problem o] the Two Vocations In the second period we group the whole of the Middle Ages up to the Council of Trent. The two vocations are distinct from here on, and the problem concerning them promptly arises. It is a long story with many detours over which I need not delay this audience. I would only like to propose a general conclusion. As soon as they are sepa-rated, we see the two vocations seek one another out. From the side of the priesthood, it seems, two convergent inspirations are followed. One is represented by St. Augustine. If the great bishop did not ordain any prie.sts except those who were deter-mined to live a common life with him in a "clerical mon-astery" without personal possessions and evidently celi-bate, this was, he declared, a simple return to the apostolic life as it was lived in primitive times. It was by this primi-tive teaching that he justified common life even in its institutionalized form. Imitated from the beginning by neighboring bishops, this ideal passed on to a line of clerics, the canons, who will defend it throughout the Middle Ages. The other inspiration began, according to the testi-mony of St. Ambrose, with St. Eusebius of Vercelli who was the first "to make monks of those who were clerics," although he was subsequently imitated by a large num-ber of the bishops of Italy. He required that his clergy adopt the monastic life. Although this antedated by a half century the common life of St. Augustine, this com-mon life fonnd its motivating force in an already evolved understanding of monasticism. Henceforth monasticism spread magnificently, helped especially by the highly in-fluential work of Athanasius, Vita Antonii, which ap-peared around 357. The nuance which subtly distinguishes the two inspira-tions should be noted. For Augustine the return to the + ÷ + Priest and Religious VOLUME 21, 1962 211 ÷ ÷ ÷ Ren~ Carpentie~, S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 212 beginnings seems a "duty" upon which he vigorously in-sists. On the other hand, imitation of monks cannot ap-pear as anything other than a counsel, though Eusebius made a diocesan institution of it. It is because of the presence of this double orientation of mind that we are able to understand the directives of Gregory the Great to the monks sent to England (they were to establish a clergT of the "apostolic life"); and it would also seem to explain the totally monastic character which the English church kept for a long time. But it is especially to the influence of the evangelical ideal that we must attribute the law of virginity imposed on priests of the Latin Church from the time of Pope Siricius in 386. For if poverty introduces one to the evangelical life and if obedience is its culmination in its institutionalized form of monastic life, it is still vi~- ginity, espousal to Christ, which is its central value. The two vocations seek each other out. I confine my considera-tions here to the Latin Church; for the Greek Church, reference can be made to the words of Plus XI and Piu~ XII on the honor in which virginity is held in it. I need not further emphasize this theme. The efforts of local councils and of the popes to draw the clergy to a common life are well known. The immediate reason is evidently to safeguard chastity; the basis, neverthele~;, is found in the apostolic life. As for detachment from riches, the two vocations also coincide in this. With the great reformer of the clergy, St. Peter Damian, and Pope Nicholas II, the two just missed being identified forever, since the Pope almost decided to impose common life on all priests as seven centuries before the popes and the councils had prescribed celibacy for them. This projected obligatory common life is the historical climax of the Church's effort to unite the two vocations. But the rural parish was clearly more necessary. Priests living alone had been accepted for a long time without criticism by the time the Council of Trent wrote the in-stitution of the secular clergy into law and placed the accent on the creation of common seminaries for the formation of all priests. The Three Canonical States Then the third period began, the one in which we live; it prepared the way for the Code with its three "states of persons." On this canonical classification (which is often very confusedly understood) were based the various docu-ments of Plus XII which clarified and, it may be said, re-solved recent controversy. In presenting the teaching of Pius XII, I begin the second part of this address: the comparative theology of the priestly and religious vocations. Without attempting to give this theology in all its details, I will take as a framework the three following divisions: the teaching of Pius XII; the two vocations and their relationships; fi-nally, the main elements of a theological synthesis. Teaching of Pius XII on the Two Vocations Pius XII had frequent ofcasion to compare' the two vocations, particularly with respect to religious clerics. But he also stated the excellence and the contemporary value of the vocation of lay religious (for example, that of the teaching brother) existing along with the priestly vocation. (See his Letter of March 31, 1954, to Cardinal Valerio Valeri.) Since these congregations of teaching brothers could today, without the difficulties of former times, become clerical congregations, the Pope, .by de-claring them fully approved, implicitly affirmed the proper value of the religious vocation in itself. What then in brief was his teaching on the two vocations? 1) The priestly vocation and the vocation to the state of perfection are different. The state of life of a diocesan priest cannot be called a state of perfection. For the priest as such is not held to the effective practice of the three evangelical counsels as is the state of perfection ~(Dis-course, December 8, 1950). 2) The priestly vocation is distinguished from that of the simple baptized faithful by reason of the divine hier-archical constitution of the Church. The vocation of the religious is another matter. Its significance is not related to the distinction between priests and laity. It can be a call of priests as well as of laity. Its significance is that it "relates strictly to the proper end of the .Church, which is to conduct men to sanctity" (Discourse,~ December 8, 1950). It is the state of life which publicly professes to aim at evangelical perfection; that is, the common prac-tice of the counsels by the three vows of obedience, chas-tity, and poverty (Provida Mater of February 2, 1947). 3) There is another sign that the religious vocation is different from the vocation to the priesthood. The priest-hood and its exercise are of exactly the same value in the two clergies. The priesthood, then, is distinct from the state of perfection. There is certainly a sharing of apostolic labor between the two clergies, but the Church freely de-c: ides about this sharing according to time and place. In the same way, dependence upon a bishop is perfectly realized in the religious priest, even if he is "exempt" (Dis-course, December 8, 1950). Finally, we must conclude that properly speaking the two vocations are not comparable. The religious life has no other meaning than the effective practice of the three counsels in a recognized state of life in order to aim at evangelical perfection. The priestly vocation as such does not have this significance. 4. 4' 4" Priest and Religious VOLUME 21, 196~ 213 ÷ Ren~ Carpentier, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 214 Mutual Attraction o] the Two Vocations Nevertheless, this difference does not hinder the mutual attraction of the two vocations. As Plus XH added: "Nothing prevents the diocesan p.riest from adopting the three counsels, either privately or in a state of perfection" (Discourse, December 8, 1950). As is.evident, in the pre-ceding outline of th6 problem there was never any ques-tion of absolutely excluding the priest, from evangelical perfection as the Church teaches it in the states of per-fection. There was question only of keeping [or each vo-cation its own significance. On the other hand, when in Menti Nostrae the Pope described the "active charity" that is demanded of every priest by reason of his priest-hood, he presented it by means of the three characteris-tics of the states of perfection: humility and obedience, chastity, disinterestedness and poverty. For reasons of per-fection and of edification, he recalled to priests the counsel of the common life (c. 134), although in the Code this does not seem even to imply an invitation to live in the insti-tutional community of goods of the Middle Ages. And in his encyclical on the centenary of the Cur~ of Ars, His Holiness Pope John XXIII spoke in the same way. The teaching in Cardinal Suhard's pastoral letter (The Priest in the Modern World), though obviously of much less universal importance, was also the same. Especially in-teresting is the testimony of. Cardinal Mercier which is sometimes appealed to as a justification for a different spirituality for the diocesan priest. In the statutes of the society of priestly perfection which he founded, he pro-posed to his priests the three vows of religion; and he passed the last twelve years of his life trying to obtain from Plus XI recognition of these vows as public with-out, nevertheless, detaching priests from their diocese and. tl~eir bishop. Without this public status, he wrote, dio-cesan priests would be unable to fulfill their priestly vo-cation; and this is why he hoped for its extension to the universal Church. This last point, however, goes beyond the position o.~ the popes and need not be held. As Pius XII insisted, "the state of perfection" is not necessary. What we do hold is a conclusion fully conformed to the teaching of history: The two vocations are different and yet they cannot re-main strangers to one another. Monks as a group and the majority of male institutes today are clerical insti-tutes (and many even, since the time of the canons regular and the Dominicans, have become religious in order to become priests). Likewise, every diocesan priest, by reason of his priestly vocation, is oriented by his own pastors toward evangelical perfection, toward its spirit. To em-ploy the expressions of Pius XII, "nothing will be lacking to his practice of evangelical perfection if he wishes to adopt, even privately, the vows of the three counsels" (Discourse, December 9, 1957). Theology o] the "Duality-Unity" o[ the Two Voca-tions , In view of this teaching, I would now like to attempt a theological comparison of the two vocations. Naturally, it will be only a brief exposition, and I ask the indulgence of the theologians who hear me. As.I have already indi-cated, I think that the mystery of these two vocations re-flects in itself the unsuspected depths of the principal treasures of the Kingdom of God. This requires an ex-tensive treatment; but here we can give only a few indi-cations. The Priestly Vocation First of all, the priestly vocation appears from the be-ginning as fully independent of the vocation to the state of evangelical perfection; and so it has remained in spite of the efforts made from the beginning 0f the Middle Ages by bishops, popes, and saints to join it indissolubly to the institutionalized apostolic life of religious. In this distinction between the two vocations, which always for-bids calling the priestly life as such "a state of perfec-tion," is hidden, unless I am mistaken, a subtle teaching of the greatest importance. It is this: The powers of the priest are strictly divine. As Plus XII wrote in Mediator Dei, "The power which is entrusted to the priest is in no way human, since it is entirely from above and comes down from God." Since this is the case, it would be ex-tremely dangerous for the priest or the faithful to confuse the exercise of these powers with the exercise of personal holiness, the reception of these powers in the sacrament of orders with the reception of a personal sanctifying grace proportioned to these powers. The priest would risk considering himself as a sanctifying power, whereas in reality he is but a channel for such. And the faithful would risk stopping short at the minister as at a screen which masked Christ from them. A central principle of the Kingdom would be thereby compromised, the prin-ciple of the ministry as a transparent medium. From this would follow an easily made conclusion that has already torn the Church: Because of the weakness and the un-worthiness of the minister, the divinity of his powers would be rejected. Thig transparency of the minister (that is, the doc-trinal affirmation, on the one hand, of the validity of his powers independently of his sanctity and, on the other hand, his personal duty of complete humility, of abso-lute disinterestedness) was demanded by Christ, especially 4. 4. 4- Priest and Religious VOLUME 21~ 1962 ÷ Ren~ Carp~ati~r, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 216 at the moment of the first priestly ordination, as the proper mark of the evangelical priest: "I am," He said, "in the midst of you. as one who serves." "The kings of the' gentiles" lord it over them. But not so among you." You must have nothing in common with the egoism of the powerful of.this world. You must be the servants (Jn 13:14.16; Lk 22:25-27). It is with this same intent that theology teaches the instrumental causality of the minister of the sacraments. As Plus XII expressed it in Mediator Dei, priests are made into instruments of the divinity by which heavenly and supernatural life is communicated to the Mystical Body of Christ. My priestly vocation, then, is for others, not for re.y-self. This is a difficult requirement which ought to be well understood. Certainly it gives no dispensation from the duty of personal sanctification. Quite the contrary. If "Christ is a priest," wrote Pius XII again in Mediator Dei, "it is for us, not for Himself. In the same way is He a victim~ for us." In giving to His priests an active partici-pation in His priesthood, Christ does not have primarily in view their own enrichment by exceptional gifts. "The priestly ministry," writes Father de Lubac, "is not a kind of super-baptism which constitutes a class of super- Christians." The priest communicates to the members of Christ the marvelous deeds of Christ. He imitates Christ's unselfish act of love. Certainly if he desires it, he will receive in abundance the personal graces to love as a priest ought to love; but these graces are to intensify in him his own baptism, his privileges as an adopted child. Along with all his brothers, he remains a humble adopted child, even though he wields the true powers of the only Son. "There is, then, in the Church," writes Father Con-gar, "a double participation in the priesthood of Christ, one along the lines of the relationship of life-giving, of pure and simple communion, which Christ has with Hi:; Body; the other according to the relation of power which He exercises upon His Body as a means of communion." The first sanctifies all the faithful, and the priest is first of all one of the faithful. It unites them to the Father in Christ. It is from this participation in Christ's priesthood that the state of perfection takes its development. The second participation entrusts to those ordained for the ministry to others the powers and the sacramental means of sanctification. This explains the refusal of the priesthood by Francis of Assisi and the flight from the episcopal o~fice of so many eminent saints. Knowing that others of their time could be priests and bishops, they affirmed in this way the radical difference there is between spiritual, moral imi- tation of Christ and the priesthood which does not per-tain to the order of sanctification-to-be-acquired. Finally, let us give one more sign of this otherness. If the priestly character is indelible and will forever mark those who have received it, the exercise of the priesthood will have but one time: It will' disappear when' ~l~e ~E~ple of God are fully assembled in the life to come. On the contrary, it is then that communion with the Father and communion between brothers will be fully established, and these are the very exercise of the vocation to perfec-tion, especially to the state of perfection. The Religious Vocation We have just established the otherness of these two vocations from the point of view of the priestly vocation. No less specified is the proper mission of the vocation to the religious state. If the priestly life ought first of all to bring down the divine gifts upon the people of God through the sacraments, the religious vocation under-takes to give to these gifts of God the Church's public and fullest response. This response is the building up here below of the Kingdom of Heaven. The response is evi-dently personal, but it is even more social. The personal imitation of Christ by profession, the program given by our Mother the Church to her states of perfection can only be the Gospel adapted by love; that is, the counsels of Jesus and the following of Christ. But even more is it a social response. The Kingdom is the Mystical Body of Christ. To love Christ is to build up His Body to unite His members in a community of charity and in a definitive liturgy of adoration for the glory of the Father. Since the Church is herself a public reality, the state of perfection, when consecrated by public vows, brings into being a fully developed cell of Christ. It recreates here be-low a truly social order based on mutuaI love and on a return to the living God, a social order which constitutes a permanent appeal addressed to disunited men that they find their brotherhood again. "That he might gather into one the children who were scattered abroad, (Ps 11:52). This is a mission of the highest importance, since by it alone does the Church fully succeed in bringing about a visible evangelical community, the new order of God's children. It is clearly a mission, one that is altogether different from that of the priestly vocation and that can-not, properly speaking, be compared with it. But it is essential to the realization of the Church here below; without it the priest would not preach in full the social order of the gospel since he would have no example of it to point out. + .+ + Priest and Religious VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ Rend Carpentier, $.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Correlation oI the Two Vocations This public mission, which is both individual and so-cial, explains to us as a consequence how the two voca-tions are different. But it is this same public and social value which demonstrates their intimate and necessary connection. We will now consider the mutual relation that exists between the two. The priestly vocation, a service of love of the Mystical Body, is totally oriented toward the Christian people. It has no concern but to bring to being, to nourish, to teach the Mystical Body on earth, and to guide it to eternal life. But the state of perfection is nothing else (I speak of its professed program) than the most perfect public community within the Mystical Body. Moreover, it is the Church herself who, recognizing her own mystery, or-ganizes the religious community. The priest is the man of the Church, the servant of the Church. He is, then, above all the servant of religious life. It is his most excel-lent creation. Another consideration is the following. The priest is the man of the Mass. He lives but to offer Christ to the Father and to place at the disposition of the children of God the Eucharistic sacrifice where they can consecrate themselves in Christ. But the religious life consecrates it-self entirely by the three public vows which cover the whole of existence. It responds fully, then, to the appeal of the priest. It does not exist except as an echo of the voice of the priest which, in turn, is but the instrument of the voice of Christ. Everyday the priest is the immedi-ate witness of the Eucharistic consecration of Christ. But it is in religious life that this offering of consecration is accepted and fulfilled as a state and a program of life. There it is that Christ the Victim can make Himself vis-ible. It follows that the two vocations, arising from two dis-tinct missions, unceasingly tend to resemble one another. To all that we have seen of history and theological re-flection, we add what is suggested by the spiritual as-pirations of the two vocations. On the one hand, the religious vocation aspires to the complete realization of the Mass which the priest cele-brates within the heart of the community. At the moment when religious life culminates at perpetual profession, it fulfills the most complete act of the priesthood of the Church and of the faithful, the definitive offering of the whole life~ Its model, then, is the .sacrifice of Christ and the Mass which represents it. On the other hand, the priest centers his spirituality around the Mass. He will find no more perfect mirror of it than the one which exists at the heart of the Church, the public state of per- fection. There it is that he may contemplate the ideal of his own aspirations for sanctity. In order to understand this well, we must return to a capital truth. The priest is only an instrument of the ministry. He preaches perfection, but he does .oqtsr.eate it. He does not invent the evangelical program; he'is its servant. He does not produce grace, he is the humble channel of the grace of Christ. As does everyone of the faithful, as does every man, he. contemplates perfection not in himself but there where it shines; that is, in the Church, the great sign lifted up before the nations, and, above all, as Pius XII has said, in that chosen portion of the Church where, under the assiduous leadership of the priesthood, the way of life of Christ is fully adopted (Plus XII, Discourse to Superiors General, February 11, 1958, and previously in his Letter to Cardinal Micara of November II, 1950). "Imitate what you handle." What the priest handles is the Eucharistic Body, and it is the Mystical Body; for both are but one. It is only right to speak of the "fatherhood" of the priest. In actuality, however, he only holds the place of the Father, as he fills the role of Jesus. Passing through his humble hands, the splendor of the Father shines forth in the way of life of Christ, which the Church, having the Son as her Spouse, teaches to her states of perfection. Frequent Union of the Two Vocations Accordingly, the priestly vocation has always sought to unite itself with the religious vocation. This historical movement of the Church can only come from the Holy Spirit. That is the source of the vocation of the canons regular, of the Dominicans, of the very numerous insti-tutes of religious clerics. A different case, but one which demonstrates nevertheless the same mutual integration of the two vocations, is that of the monk-priest. Since he seeks the perfect public consecration of himself and of his community, it is natural that the monk should, if he can, unite in the same person the divine instrumental power of consecrating and the most complete of the Church's responses to the divine consecration; that is, the public state of perfection. It might be asked if the monk does not re-orient to himself the priesthood that he receives. But it would be wrong to consider the matter in this way. What the monk seeks is not an egocentric perfection which would no longer be Christian. More than anyone, he with his brothers brings to reality the Mystical Body; and it is in the Church, in the perfect community of charity and adoration, that he finds his sanctification. When he celebrates Mass, as does every priest, he offers the Church; he builds up the Kingdom of 4. 4. 4. Priest and Religious VOLUME 21~ 1962 219 + + ÷ Ren~ Ca~pentier, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 220 ,God and, first of all, that perfect kingdom which is con-stituted by the monastic community. The priesthood is not necessary to him; but if the Church gives it to him, it is to achieve a greater integration within herself of the person of the monk, his community, and the divine official praise which this community celebrates and carries on in the world. Clarifications When the resemblance between the two vocations, priestly and religious, is spoken of, what is considered is the essential matter of evangelical perfection, and not the difference in the observance of details which are so considerable from institute to institute. In his discourse to the Second General Congress of the States of Perfection (December 7, 1957), Pius XII pointed up this "essential" matter of perfection; it is the imitation of Christ defini-tively embraced in the great counsels that sums up all the other matters. If, to make an impossible supposition, the priest sought to create for himself an ideal of holiness of another kind than that of the baptised, he would put himself, so to speak, outside the Church, the Body of holiness; he would be ambitioning something else in his plan of holiness than to be as perfectly as possible the adopted child of the Father in Christ. He would be boldly directing his as-pirations towards a life conformed to his divine powers; that is, he would seem to be making his spiritual lift.' equal to that of the only-begotten Son Himself. No priest has ever thought of such a thing. By reason of the sacer-dotal character he is instrumentally a man of God, but his whole mission makes him a man among men. Cer-tainly, he reveres in himself with full humility the mys-terious efficacy of Christ, as do also the faithful; but not for an instant does he or the faithful confuse the lowly man with the transcendence of that God who works through him as through an intermediary. "It is, then, quite true," wrote Father de Lubac, "that the institution of the priesthood and the sacrament of orders did not create within the Church two degrees of attachment to Christ, as it were, two kinds of Christians. This is a fun-damental truth of our faith. All are united in the same essential dignity, the dignity of Christians, a marvelous renewal of the dignity of man, which has been so mag-nificently sung by the great Pope St. Leo." Against the similarity of the two vocations a difficulty might still be raised. Does not the religious withdraw from the world, and ought not the diocesan priest root himself in the world? In order to follow the vocation of a diocesan priest, is. it not fitting to place the accent on that which is peculiar to it as opposed to the religious state? By this means it would be ~reed of an imitation which would paralyze it; left to its own initiative in enter-ing into the mass of men, it would be free to communicate to all men those things which are necessary here below. There is a general problem here, that of action and contemplation, of renouncement ~ihd of use. It is a prob-lem which exceeds the limits of this article. Recent popes have spoken of this problem, especially to priests. In his heart, Pius XII declared, the priest should be an entire stranger to the world, one who wishes to live for the Lord only and to serve Him perfectly (Discourse to Superiors General, February 11, 1958; see also the third part of the Discourse of December 8, 1950). In this difficulty as formulated, we confine ourselves to noting a mistake which would be a grave danger for religious vocations if it were not corrected. In the truest sense of the word, the religious, even the most contemplative, does not abandon "the world." He-builds it up into its full reality if it is true that the evangelical order of brotherhood is the ex-ample given by Christ to disunited human society so that it might find peace and life. During the Middle Ages the monks literally created a new people, western civiliza-tion (see Pius XII's encyclical F.ulgens Radiatur on St. Benedict, March 21, 1947). Even today, does not the re-ligious life devote itself to all human sciences, to all the services of the health of souls and of bodies, to all the forms of education of children, adolescents, young adults, and adults. It remains true, nevertheless, and this is what it proclaims by its very existence, that "he who would save his life will lose it" (Mt 16:25) and "What does it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, but suffers the loss of his own soul?" (Mt 16:26). No ConIusion of the Two Vocations Finally, if the two vocations necessarily tend to resem-ble one another in their efforts at sanctification, they should by no means be confused in the Church of today. On the contrary, it may be believed that their differentia-tion, completed by canon law, enriches the Church. For the religious state, the correct independence of local juris-diction assured it by ecclesiastical law is a life or death condition. The very nature of the evangelical society, as the often sad history of the Church demonstrates, requires that it be able to live according to its own principles if it is to give the services which the Holy Spirit and the Church entrust to it. And on the other hand, the Church has too much respect for the liberty and the differences of her children, and too great a need for priests, not to leave to those of her elect who desire it the choice of their own means of sanctification and not to impose any more 4. 4. + Priest and Religious VOLUME 21, 1962 221 ,4" Ren~ Cavpentier, S.$. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS than what in her own view she has judged to be indis-pensable. Synthesis A summary of this theological evidence in a single synthesis is long overdue. To formulate it, I will draw upon a very recent little work of His Excellency, Msgr. DeSmedt, Bishop of Bruges, entitled The Priesthood oI the Faithlul. I have found it very illuminating. The bishop's intent is to explain the priestly vocation to his flock. He considers he can do no better than first of all to develop before their eyes the broad perspective of the priesthood of the faithful. The end of the Church is holi-ness. The Church is accordingly, a Body of holiness, hence a priesthood of the faithful. This is the major and basic principle which gi,~es proper value to all ecclesiasti-cal realities, above all to the two fundamental vocations which are at the center of the Church. In the priesthood of the faithful, all--the simply bap-tized, priests, bishops, the pope himself---are united to offer themselves and to join themselves to Christ so as to be efficaciously offered by His all powerful adoration and to be finally gathered together by Christ into a single people of brotherhood in communion with the Blessed Trinity. In this Body of holiness the mission of the states of perfection easily takes its proper place. It is the vocation of the states of perfection to respond fully, under the guidance of the Church, to the appeal of the baptismal dignity. It is for them to make concrete the people of God, fraternally united and consecrated to the Father by the vows of the three counsels. In this way they are at the service of their brothers, all Christians and all men, to win them and orient them to brotherly consecration in Christ. Among the states of perfection, the religious state is at the heart of the visible Church; it is com-missioned by her and closely linked with her to be the public w!tness of the social order of the gospel, the witness of the community of love and of worship in the midst of men. Secular institutes and all the baptized and con-firmed, priests included, who in actual fact or in spirit practice evangelical perfection in mutual charity and the faithful adoration of the Lord, also witness to this true life, at least in a personal way, each one according to his position and according to the innumerable adaptations which the apostolic approach to men require. It is with respect to the priesthood of the faithful that the diocesan priesthood is situated with full clarity. Es-sentially, it is its servant. Consecrated by Christ, it dis-tributes to the people the word and the bread in His name and in His place. It directs the people to eternal life. It has its powers and its commission. It is the object of the veneration of lay persons who absorb its presence, its help, its teaching, its edification. This is what Bishop DeSmedt shows in the second part of his work. But by this very fact the priest centers his life on his flock as its pastor, dn the *family of God asr its father. Above all, he is pastor and father for the states of perfec-tion. He must count on them above all to assure the spread of the apostolic life in the world. He is always, then, the central figure of the state of perfection even if he is not charged directly with its care. That is to say, he makes it known, he reveals it to the world, since it is he who must reveal the Church as a brotherhood conse-crated to God and since it is he who must reveal the full gospel. Objective Dil~erence of the Two Vocations Thus the objective difference which we were to find between

Issue 25.2 of the Review for Religious, 1966. ; Sanctification through Obedience by Charles A. Scldeck, C.S.C. 161 Decree on the Eastern Catholic Church~ by Vatican Council II 235 The Church's Holiness and Religious Life by Gustave Martelet, ~q.J. 246 Division of a Province by Albert A, Reed, C.PP.S. 269 The Young Religious and His Poverty by William M. Barbieri, S.J. 288 Religious Rule and Psychological Development by John W. Stafford, G.S.V. 294 Obedience and Subsidiarity by Kevin D. O'Rourke, O.P. 305 Religious Censorship of Private Communications by James Gaffney, S.J. 314 Survey of Roman Documents 320 Views, News, Previews 324 Questions and Answers 330 o Book Reviews 335 CHARLES A. SCHLECK, C.S.C. Sanctification through bedi en ce In the mind of the early Christians the practice of obedience was always considered as somehow or other essential, as necessarily included in their response to God's prevenient redeeming love. A study of the New Testament would reveal that obedience was seen as col-lective; it was an obedience that centered around the submission of the Ghurch to Christ. The members' of the Church, the earthly body of the glorified Christ, were on a voyage during which they were called upon to obey their guide, Christ speaking to them especially through the authorities he had established in the Church.x They considered themselves to be under the authority of the new commandment of charity, such that the accomplish-ment of this commandment included the accomplish-ment of all the others.~ They saw the primary exemplar of their life of Christian obedience in the person of Christ Himself. Every work of His life, all His life, is an ¯ act of obedience to the will of His Father.8 Since they considered that all authority came from God4 they were to obey not merely out of fear but from conscience or for the Lord,~ unless this authority attempted to abuse the power that had been given it. Slaves were to obey their masters,~ wives their husbands,7 children their parentsS; yet all were to love Christ even more. In short, according to the New Testament, any life that was truly Christian had to be filled and impreg-nated with obedience of one sort or another, obedience to God, to Christ, to the Church, to the state, to parents, 1 Heb 13:7. ~ Gal 5:14. SLk 22:42; Jn 17:4; Phil 2:8; Rom 5:19; Mt 9:13; 26:52. '.Mr 22:15 ft.; Rom 13:5. Sl Pt 2:13 ft. e Eph 6:5; Col 8:22. ~ 1 Cot 11:3 ft. SEph 6:1; Col 3:20. Father Charles A. Schleck, C.S.C., is a faculty member of Holy Cross Col-lege; 4001 Hare-wood Road N.E.; Washington,. D.C. 10017. VOLUME 25, 1966 161 + + + c. A. $chleck, C.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS to a husband, and so forth. Its characteristic mark was that it be shown to any.of these as to the Lord. It was this which g.ave concrete expressions of obedience their unity. From this it would seem that the entire Christian life in its ensemble was considered to be obedience. For everything in it was thought of as an implicit or formal accomplishment of the divine authoritative will speak-ing through the various organs capable of its revela-tion. The application of obedience for the early Chris-tians, if we are to judge from New Testament writings, was as vast as was the field of charity. In fact any and all obedience was considered as being the fulfillment o? charity in its diverse forms. Once an action was seen as necessary for the life of charity and recognized as such by the moral conscience, it became an obligation in virtue of the obligatory character of the precept of charity.9 It was seen not merely in the light of what we would call the virtue of justice but rather in the light of charity, and as such entered into the theologal life o( the Christian. It was a vital human activity of which God Himself was the object and the motive, and in the perfecting of which God was coactive. It was the life of grace in faith, hope, and love, and as such brought about a personal relationship with God.1° On the other side of the coin, those who were called to exercise authority in the Church were to do so as a service to the community, and this in imitation of the Lord who came not to be served but rather to serve,xl The disciples were chosen by Christ and sent to the children of Israel first and then to all the nations12 so that as sharers in His power they might make all peoples His members by sanctifying them and governing themAz They were given the task of ministering to it always under the guidance of the Lord and of guiding it or di-recting it all days even to the consummation of the world.~4 They were called upon to take up the service of the community, presiding in place of God over the community as shepherds of the flock of Christ; whoever listened to them listened to Christ; and whoever re-jected them, rejected Christ and Him who sent Christ, the FatherJ5 The ministry which these men were to exercise was threefold: the ministry of teaching sound 9See K. Truhlar, s.J., "L'ob6issance des la'ics," in La[cs et vie chrdtienne parfaite (Rome: Herder, 1963), p. 245. tOE. Schillebeeckx, O.P., Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), p. 16, nQte 14. u Mk 10:45; see also Y. Congar, O.P, Power and Poverty in the Church (Baltimore: Helicon, 1964), pp. 98-9. tO Rom 1:16. tO Mt 28:16-20; Mk 16:15; Lk 24:45-8; Jn 20:21-3. 1~ Mt 28:20. ~Lk 10:16. doctrinele; the ministry o[ sancti[ying17; and the ministry of. governing.~8 It is clear from this that authority is not used correctly whenever it turns into despotism or domi-nation, ae It is meant to be a service of love and in love (agap6) to the community, or a prelacy in the sense of supervision and surveillance for the unification of the community,s0 When we shift our gaze to the "first religious," the fathers of the desert (I think that we can trace the com-munal practice of obedience to this era), we see that for them obedience was one piece in a multitude of things which the ascetic had to be ready to assume in "leaving the world" to test his courage and strength against the temptations of the desert. The reason why this was de-manded was that the heart of an individual was so con-taminated by concupiscences of various kinds that he wo.uld be considered rash if in attempting to reach the perfection of the following of Christ he did not rely on or seek the direction of others in a spirit of humility. Obedience was considered as merely a kind of corollary of a frank soul testifying to its confidence in a spiritual master from whom advice was sought. It was an element of interior perfection and could almost have been re-duced to the practice of humility as a means of putting to death whatever was inordinate in the self-will of an individual. This desire to "follow Christ radically" was not what we often imz'gine it to be--a purely personal and inti-mate relationship with Christ. In the spirituality of the father of the monks, Antony, the "following of Christ" embraced a form that we would find extremely inter-esting today, Despite the apparent paradox, the imitation of Christ by the first hermits was essentially social. The first goal of those who gave themselves to this way of life was fraternal charity. And they were always pre-pared to see to its observance whenever khis was neces-sary. z~ Those who quickly gathered around Antony did so in an attempt to find the life of the primitive Church, a perfect fraternity, totally subject to the will of the as 2 Tim 4: I ft. 1~ Mt 28:19; 2 Cor 3:8--9. as I Pt 5:2 ft.; Acts 20:28. as Mk 10:42; Lk 22:25. ~o For all his insistence on the role of authority as ministry or service, Paul also referred to it as having power to make decisions; it is not simply a tool of the governed; see, for example, 1 Cor 7:10, 12,17; 2 Cor 10:8; 2 Th 3:9; Phm 8. The hierarchy has been es-tablished for service which includes teaching, ministry, and govern-ment. This service is in view of the community, in view of building up the Church to the glory of the Father. See P. Anciaux, L'dpiscopat darts l'Eglise (Bruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1963), pp. 56-7. a Antony returned to Alexandria to serve the Christians perse-cuted for their faith and serving in the mines. 4. + + Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 163: ÷ ÷ C. A. Sehleek, C.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 164 Lord, moving in perfect unity and harmony towards the second coming. This trend was merely more fully in-tensified the more cenobitical these groups became. In the beginning when men came together to live in common, and to follow the teaching of a master and to incorporate themselves more completely into a com-munity of worship and love, the practice of obedience was not regulated by any positive or organic legislation 'as it is today. In fact from the juridical and moral view-point it is difficult to sa~ whether or not the first cenobites were even considered to have vowed obedience to a spiritual father. From all the documentary evidence we have at our disposal it would seem as though the prac-tice of vowed obedience came in with the advent of St. Benedict upon the monastic scene. Yet the practice of obedience for all, hermits and cenobites, appears to have always remained fundamentally the same in its ends or goals. It was always regarded as an instrument for achieving Christian perfection (1) by imitating the ex-ample of the Divine Redeemer and His sacrifice, and (2) by bringing all into unity to constitute a community of worship and love.22 These basic eler~en~s and motives which marked the obedience of the first "religious" should also mark the contemporary practice in religious communities of to-day. The love of Christ, the following of His obedience to the Father, the practice of faith and humility, the desire for ecclesial unity, all of these form the very heart and core of all religious obedience regardless of epoch, place or form, or embodiment. There is, however, one difference that seems to stand out rather clearly in comparing the practice of obedience of modern com-munities with that of their earlier counterparts. And tfiat is~ the functional character of the obedience of the former in contrast with the domestic character of the latter.2n There should be no astonishment at this difference once we consider the environment in which the Bene-dictine life was established. It was set up within the framework of the notion of the Roman paterfamilias who had a rather complete control over those subject to himself, not only the slaves and workers but even over the members of his own immediate family, his wife and his children. For Benedict there was first of all in the monastic ideal, obedience; in fact, we might say there was nothing but obedience. As the Prologu~ of' m R. Carpentier, S.J., "Vers une th~ologie de la vie religieuse," in La vie religieuse darts l'Eglise du Christ (Bruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1964), pp. 65-71. m For these expressions, domestic and ]unctional, see J. Leclercq, The Religious Vocation (New York: Kenedy, 1955), pp. 134-5. the Rule states: "Hearken O my son, to the precept of your master, and incline the ear of your heart; willingly receive and faithfully fulfill the admonition of your loving Father, that you may return by the labor of obedience to Him from whom you had departed through the sloth of disobedience., so that renouncing your own will you will take Up the strong and bright weapons of obedience."~4 And again in Chapter 5 the Rule states: "Those who are impelled by the ardent desire of ascending to eternal life for that reason take the nar-row .way.n6t living by their own will or obeying their own desires and pleasures, they walk in accordance with the judgment and command of another; living in communities they desire to be ruled by an abbot." ~5 From the very beginning the Rule of St. Benedict speaks of the abbot who stands in the place of God. And after this it speaks of obedience, the first among the virtues, and of humility which begets obedience. Yet for all this emphasis on obedience, the Rule also indicates quite clearly its norm: the Rule itself. A very definite limitation was placed on the powers of the abbot, which is often forgotten. There was a sense in which the abbot had all the power, and there was another sense in which he had only that power given to him by the Rule. His mission was to make sure that the Rule was observed. But hd had no power to oblige any service not in accordance with the Rule. Moreover, Benedictine obedience was lived within the framework of the monastery. It was a kind of do-mestic obedience, to use an expression. It was obedience within the life of the family and was given to a superior who was always present. It was a hearkening to the voice of him who gave orders. It was an obedience that left what one was doing unfinished as soon as the voice made itself heard. Because it was domestic, Benedictine obedience was very profoundly human. In the monastery the relationship was that of person to person with the flexibility that is to be found in human relations. It did not have the more or less abstract character and regimentary appearance which it took on in later times due to its change in operation. This same interpersonal dimension of monastic or domestic obedience can be seen throughout Benedict's legislation as is evident from the following excerpts: Whenever any weighty matters are to be transacted in the monastery, let the abbot call together the whole community and make known the matter which is to be considered. Hav-ing heard the brethren's views let him weigh the matter with himself and do what he thinks best. It is for this reason that Prologue, Rule oI St. Benedict, § 1. Rule o] St. Benedict, Chapter 5. - 4. 4. ObedienCe VOLUME 25, 1966 165 REV1EWFOR RELigIOUS 166" we said that all should be called for counsel, because the Lord often reveals to the younger what is best. Let the brethren, however, give their advice with humble submission and let them not presume stubbornly to defend what seems right to them, for it must depend rather on the abbot's will so that all obey him in what he considers best. Bu~ as it becomes disciples to obey their master, so also it becomes the master' to dispose all things with prudence and justice. Therefore let all follow the Rule as their guide in everything, and let no one rashly depart from it . Let no one in the monastery follow the bent of his own heart, and let no one dare to dispute insolently with his abbot, either inside or outside the monastery. If any one dare do so, let" him be placed under the correction of the Rule . Let the abbot himself, however, do everything in the fear of the Lord, and out of reverence for the .Rule, knowing that beyond doubt he will have to give an account to God the most just Judge for all his rulings. If however, matters of'less importance having to do with the welfare of the monastery are to be treated of, let him use the counsel of the seniors only, as it is written: Do ~ill things with counsel, and thou shalt not. repent when thou hast done.~ From the moment when congregations or groups of men and women began to exercise apostolates and chari-table works that took them away from the immediacy of the monastery and the contemplative life, obedience began to. assume a different appearance. It became what we might call more functional in operation than do-mestic.: It began to center more and more around the beginnin~ of an action or task than around the actual manner in which it 'was to be carried out. We can say that it came into action when the course or activity was undertaken, leaving to the subject the manner in which it was to be carried out. The superior was free to fix the limits of the task but once the work was started, the religious was left free, at least to some extent, to follow his own initiative. Yet for all this personal initiative on the part of the subject, the entire work and not merely the task assigned was said to come under obedi-ence. I suppose that we find this practice of obedience rather clearly crystallized in the Jesuit approach to this element of religious life. Wishing to form men for service to the Church in all and every circumstance of its life and needs, Ignatius abandoned many forms and observances which were characteristic up to that time. In regard to obedience he attempted to give his fol-lowers a personal formation that would enable them to preserve their religious character and ideals without many of the external supports that were found in the monastic version of the religious life. His religious were to have such a strong character formation that they would be able to manage without any support, would undertake any responsibility, and would remain faithful ~ Rule of St. Benedict, Chapte~ 5 and 3. to their vocation under any and all circumstances by reason of the depth of their interior life. Yet they would be so trained in obedience that they could be en-trusted with or relieved of any function or activity at any given moment or sent to the ends of the earth with-out previous warning or explanation. As we can see, such obedience might seem to be less human to a certain extent, less interpersonal than that of the monastic version.2~ Yet it is not less radically detached. In fact, it is even more detached than that of the monastic type. For a Jesuit, ideally, can have no other attachment .than to the will of God and to His glory which is represented by an obedience the object of which is frequently that of undertaking rather serious responsibilities. He must be ready for every responsibility and yet at the same time be ready to give up without delay or discussion work to which he may have devoted, himself unreservedly for years. And quite recently Pope Pius XII asked them to continue to form their men in this same spirit of obedi-ence. 2s This form of functional obedience has been the state-ment of this practice of the religious life for most reli-gious communities since the arrival of the Jesuits. The only other development that has come on the scene in recent years is its statement or expression within the framework of secular institutes. Here a more free type of obedience is exercised, but basically it would seem to be merely an extension of the functional obedience which we have just described, From this it should be clear that evangelical obedience or religious obedience as well can be and has been em-bodied in different expressions or statements. These are or have been brought on by the demands of the Church peculiar to different epochs. Yet as we shall see later on in ~ Ignatius was quite understanding of his religious. When Father Nadal entered the Society at about the age of thirty-five Ignatius gave him a particularly pleasant room, had him dine with himself frequently, took him out walking, and chatted with him quite fre-quently. When. asked why, he answered that a temperament like Nadal's had to be treated with a soft touchl It is also recorded of him that he said on one occasion: "I have a great desire for a general indifference in all; and so presupposing obedience and ab-negation on the part o[ the subject, I find it very good to ]ollow his inclinations." When he wished to send one out to study or to a distant assignment or give him some rather heavy task he examined the person to find out what he was most inclined to; and then, if he found an obedient man, accommodated himself to his inclina-tions. See E. Polit, S.J., Per[ect Obedience (Westminster: Newman, 1947), p. 160. ~ Address to the General Congregation, 1957: "The form of gov-ernment in the Society is monarchical and is embodied in the de-cisions of a single superior" (The States oI PerIection, ed. G. Courtois [Westminster: Newman, 1962], p. 300). ÷ ÷ ÷ Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 167 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the article, for all these different expressions, in essence. and in its fundamental .outlines the practice of obedi-ence in all institutes of perfection remains the same. Its theology has in no wise changed.29 For all the cornerstone force, for all the excellence ~which the practice of. obedience has in the long tradition of the life of the counsels, there is no problem which present~ so many and so varied difficulties in our con-temporary religious life. I believe that if we were .to analyze the problem, trying to get at its roots or sources whence these difficulties come, we would find them to be several: the spirit of our times; certain trends in spiritu-ality, certain embodiments of authority and obedience,. and a misunderstanding of the theology of obedience. Each of these demands something of an explanation. Firstof all there is the "spirit of our times," or the civilization and historical epoch in which we live. This is characterized by an ever growing democratization of men and institutions. In such an environment the ideal that seems to be uppermost for many is that of "team. Work" or fraternal collaboration or a "democratic obedi-ence," in which if there is any authority whatsoever, this authority comes from the group in such a way that the leader more or less merely interpre~ or reflects the consensus or the mind of the group 'and acts as their spokesman .and is responsible before them. In fact, the idea that there can be an authority that comes from God rather than from the g~oup, an authority which-is superior to a group even though serving it and ordered to the common good, an authority that is not merely a servile instrument but the sign of ruling that is the power of the kingdom of God, an authority that is a service responsible primarily to God, all this is rather difficult for the youth coming to us today to under-stand. So Moreover, the spirituality of our day with its marvel-ous possession of a deeper psychological understanding of the workings of men and women, its recognition of ~Much of the current agitation regarding obedience and au-thority--- often generating more heat than light in our era of "stress writing"--is really an attempt to recover various aspects of this institution already found in previous embodiments; for exam, ple, (1) the dialogue" and communication ideal of Benedictine monasticism; (2) the functional ideal of the Society of Jesus; (3) the authority-service ideal of the New Testament. Bu( when any ~f these aspects is stressed (and the same is true of abnegation) so that it is seen outside of the total context of obedience-authority, it can cause a myopia which is disastrous to the overall picture. It is this exaggerated preoccupation with one or other element of obedience-authority out of due proportion that-is causing many of our problems today. .~Paul'VI, Address to the General Audience, July 14, 1965, NCWC Documentary News Service. man's intelligence, its cult of the dignity of the human person, its insistence on man's initiative and free re-sponse to God ir; facing the tasks of life, all this has set of[ without intending to, of course, a reaction against obedience and authority, at least for the moment, rather than a perfecting and balancing of it as originally in-tended. Again, a study of history shows quite clearly that down through the centuries there have been dit~erent .embodiments or statements of authority even within the Church. And this same study will show that some of the images of authority in history are not always faithful to its God-intended purpose and, therefore, not very felici-tous and certainly not to be clung to or defended,sl As a result of thes~facts and trends, the charge has been resounding for over ten years that obedience, espe-cially religious obedience, imperils the human dignity of the person, that it hampers or even goes counter to the development of human personality, that it stands be-tween him and God or interferes with his immediate and direct~relationship with God, that it creates weak and passive spirits not capable of meeting the chal-lenges of our times, that it affords a haven where persons afraid to face the world or assume responsibility can come to anchor. It is also argued that corpse-like obedi-ence is not even human, let alone religious. For human obedience should place all the capacities of man at the service of obedience. Consequently, it must be active and intelligent. While passive obedience (the kind so often reflected in the older ascetical writings usually intended for novices and contemplative religious) might be fitting for a very young child (although even this is questioned) since it is not yet capable of using its reason fully, the case of the adult is quite different. The latter's obedience must be mature, therefore, active and intelligent; otherwise it goes counter to the very nature of the human person. And so the plea has been raised again and again: more independence, initiative, and responsibility must be given to subjects. Efficiency can be achieved only when as much discretion and liberty as possible is left to sub-ordinate members. Professionals within the Church will do their best work in a situation where they have as much freedom and self-respect as possible. Thus, au-thority today must be exercised in a much more "fra- ~ Ibid.: "Experience and history offer us a unique picture of the images of authority which are not always faithful and not always happy ones. It is necessary to deepen the idea of the authority of the Church, to purify it of forms which are not essential to it (even if in given circumstances they we're legitimate, for example, temporal power) and to return to its original and Christian prin-ciple." Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 169 + 4. 4. C. A. Schleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 170 ternal,' sort of way, that is, in a way that is characterized by stable and purposeful involvement at.each level.32 It is because this has not been true enough in past years that we face a "crisis," not so much in regard to obedi-ence as rather in regard to authority today.3~ This is obviously only a very brief amalgam of the various ideas being circulated today. And what lends color and force to them is the fact that some of these things can and do happen and certainly have happened both in the Church and in religious communities even though they perhaps have happened elsewhere and are happening elsewhere in greater proportion. "Experience and history offer us images of authority which are not always faithful and are not always happy ones." a4 These gources of difficulty have given rise to still another, one more basic and fundamental and more crucial---the theological principles involved in the prac-tice of obedience. These are sometimes rather poorly misunderstood or distorted, not willingly or intentionally to be sure, but simply by over-preoccupation or concen-tration on some elements to the neglect of others. And one thing is certain--we are not allowed to exaggerate one element of a rather complex reality out of due proportion. If we do, we simply shift our error to an-other side. To avoid tilting at windmills we would do well to go back to the basic principles involved in the practice of obedience. This is necessary for both su-periors and subjects. On the one hand, religious obedi- =A. Greeley, "Fraternal Authority in the Church," Homiletic and Poztoral Review, v. 64 (1963-4), pp. 563-5. Some would go so far as to suggest a liberation from every form of juridical prescrip-tion by substituting the simple law of charity and reducing rules to an indispensable minimum. The problem is a minimum for what vocation and function in the Church? =As Father Gambari remarked: "Some think religious are less inclined to obey today. I do not think that this can be said without any qualification. There is a great generosity and spirit of sacrifice among them, and a deep desire to work for the good of their neighbor. But they do wish to obey with greater liberty, spon-taneity and intelligence. They are anxious to base their obedience on reason, not in the sense that they will obey only if the motives and scope of the command are reasonable but rather in the sense that the problem of obedience is seen in a little different light. In the past obedience was presented and practised with insistence on the negative aspect of self-renunciation or death to one's own will. Today we speak of obedience as perfecting the religious. Thus youth wish to seek in obedience the means of becoming associated to the action of God . Again it is true that religious wish Su-periors who do not only hold authority from God, but who know how to use it as God Himself does. It is this which lies at the basis of so much discussion of the following topics: obedience and formalism; obedience and liberty; authority and liberty; obedience and peisonality development; obedience and personal initiative and responsibility" (Proceedings o] 1958 Sisters" Institute o] Spirituality [Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1959], pp. 137, 150-1). ~ Paul VI, Address to the General Audience, July 14, 1965. ence will be retarded in its spiritual effects to the degree that its theology is not known or is neglected. A superior cannot govern properly unless she understands why obedience confirmed by v6w enjoys the place it always has had in religious life. On the other~ hand, a religious subject will obey .constantly with spiritual profit to herself, the commufiity, and the Church and in an adult manner to the extent that she is convince~n all levels of her personality, intellectual, emotional, social and spiritualZ-of the reasons for the existence, practice, and importance of obedience in her state of life. The real question will then be seen to be not whether there is to be authority and obedience, but whether the cur-rent ways of exercising it are suited to the present condi-tion of the Church. As Pope Paul mentioned: "It is necessary to deepen the idea of authority in the Church, to purify it of forms which are not essential to it (even if in given circumstances they were legitimate, such as, for example temporal power) and to return it to its original and Christian principles." 35 ~ The danger in periods like our own where there is much questioning even to the point of a liberating disobedience is that the very foundations of an institu-tion will be weakened. Yet 'I believe that if we know how to read the designs of providence correctly, we can ~?egard this questioning as an invitation to advance and to grasp more firmly the foundations which might seem to be threatened and to use the very difficulties them-selves as an occasion to commit ourselves all the more profoundly to our own religious dedication. In this way both superiors and subjects will come out of these diffi-culties more deeply rooted and more fully developed. To live in the light it is usually necessary to pass through dark nights136 The treatment that I will follow in ,. approaching this problem or topic will be quite similar to that which was followed in regard to poverty and virginity: (1) obedi-ence in general; (2) what religious obedience adds to the practice of obedience in general; (3) the aims of religious obedience; (4) the qualities of religious obedience; (5) the fruits of religious obedience; and (6) some practical suggestions. The Virtue of Obedience in General The nature of obedience as a virtue might well be defined as follows: a natural or supernatural (dependi-ng upon its source and objective) disposition or bent or ~ Ibid, ~See J. Laplace, S.J., "Education to Obedience," in Religious Obedience ,and the Exercise o! Authority, "Donum Dei," v. 3 (Ottawa, Canada: Canadian Religious Conference, 1961), p. 68. (Hereafter this work will be cited as "Donum Dei" 3.) Obedience VOLUME'25, 1966 . 171. C. A. Schleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS inclination or, better still, per[ectant of the faculty of the will which disposes a person to habitually submit himseff or herself to another's decision in reference to ¯ those things or areas in which this other has authority or decision-making power over one.~7 For example, in civil or domestic matters, a mayor or a governor or a president or a father or a mother has authority and ~The idea of virtue occupies a central position in moral and spiritual theology. A virtue is a dynamism or perfectant which does not create some automatic reflex type of reaction in situations. This would diminish the moral tonality of the action. No, a virtue is a good perfectant or dynamism that is operalive. It gives" the capacity for a power of action to accomplish the maximum of what it can accomplish. It is an active quality or perfectant that disposes one to produce the maximum of what he can on the moral and spiritual level. A natural virtue is acquired by the repetition of interior acts of the intellect and the will and therefore demands human effort. It is marked by the following qualities: (1) It is a constant disposi-tion of person. The repetition of victory over the passional dynam-ism or the other faculties, the will for example, on the part of the intelligence and reason engenders in the person a certain mastery which nothing can destroy save a change in the will of the individ-ual. (2) It gives promptitude and facility in action. This is the effect of the perfect ordination and unification of the interior principles of action of man where each elemeut enjoys its proper role. The reason and the will command and direct, and the sensibility obeys their impulse making its own contribution. It does away with the internal dissension that could so"easily destroy its function. (3) It gives joy in action, a triumphant joy that issues from the creation of a personal perfection. (4) It is acquired by education, respecting the personality of the persoia concerned. (5) It very often requires thee help o[ another and of discipline. We must insist more on the necessity of education to natural virtue, for it is only the intense presence o~: these ~perfectants and dynamisms in our human per-sonality that will make possible and facilitate the exercise of the so-called infused virtues given with grace. Today there is an excess of personal[sin rather current. Under the pretext of respecting the personality o17 another one does not dare intervene in his moral formation, for to do so would be to impose constraints on him; there is rejected any and all discipline which would impose itself on him, this being prompted by the apparently liberal project of leaving free play to the spontaneity of the individual, of placing entire confidence in the personality of each one. What happens is that'one often abandons others, especially the young, to themselves and their inexperience. One leaves them to the winds of moral mal-formation, to a spiritual life that is rather superficial, subjected to incessant agitation and changes of sentiments that are without much real depth. So many of those advocating this type ol: new formation were just a few years back the most rigid of personalities. This in itself should make us a little cautiotis in regard to any wholesale adoption of this thinking. Education to virtue is a difficult task and a complex one. It exacts the employment of authority and a pro-found respect for those one is educating, much understanding and finesse, and a firm will. One must beware of abusing authority and ofa liberalism which neglects its use: Only intelligent and prudent love for the one being educated will permit the discovery of this formula. See S. Pinckaers, O.P., "La vertu est tout autre chose qu'uhe habitude," Nouvelle revue thdologique, v. 82 (1960), pp. 387- 403. decision-making power over those under him or her in relation to certain actions. Obedience, therefore, is a natural or supernatural perfectant of the will which makes a person prompt in fulfilling the decisions of the one entrusted with this duty and service. By its very ¯ nature, negatively speaking, it involves a surrender of one's will, in a sense, in a given area of action. It means submission to another and implies a risk. For it means the channeling of efforts and energies in the direction marked out by the one charged with the de-cision- making, and this could go contrary to one's per-sonal tastes.and inclinations. As a result the practice of obedience requires submission to the command of another, inability to exercise, independent choice con-trary to the command given; therefore, it implies an evident restriction of freedom in action. If we concentrate only on these negative implications (and necessary ones to be sure)of obedience, it would be easy for us to conclude that some of the objections mentioned above are correct. Obedience could be seen merely as an obstacle to .self-fulfillment, to personal de-velopment; it could be viewed as a violation of personal dignity, even perhaps a kind of profanation of the charismatic spirit which is in each one to lead him to his or her perfection. For this reason, it is all the more necessary to see the positive side of the virtue of obedi-ence, and that is that it is a free and voluntary giving or snrrender or submission of one's person (will) to the decision-making duty and service (command) of a.: su-perior or one charged with the common good. As such, it is an action very much in conformity with our human dignity and self-mastery and quite capable of leading to our self-fulfillment, especially when it is motivated cor-rectly by the spirit of love. The basis of obedience is the very structure of society which requires authority at the service of the com-munity or the common good. This is God-willed and God-intended. There exists no authority except from God.as As John Chrysostom explains this: "Does this mean that every ruler is appointed by God? I do not say that, for I am not dealing now with individual rulers but with authority itself. What I say is that it is the divine wisdom and not mere chance that has or-dained that there should be government, that some should command and others obey." 29 God has willed that in the plan of leading men back ,to Himself ulti-mately, some should be subject to others, not because of any superiority of talent necessarily, whether this be intellectual or spiritual or social or administrative, but ~ Rom 13:1. ~In Epist. ad Rom., c. 13, hom. 23, P.G., v. 60, col. 615. Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 . A. SchlCec.$k.,~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS merely because God has given one person authority or decision-making power over others, even though He may .have done 'this using very human means and per-sons and even political maneuvering to designate this person. Authority is not to be thought a~ lacking all control. Since it is the power to decide or command according to right reason, it must derive its obligatory force from the moral order which has God for its firgt source and final end. If it can oblige men in conscience it is only because it is intrinsically related with the authority of God and shares in it. By this principle the dignity of men is protected. "As men they are equal (and as Christians also, if they are such), but as superior and inferior they are not equal, they are not on the same plane. To one God has given the service of commanding in the realization of His will and to others He has given the service of obeying. When in fact men obey their lawfully constituted rulers when "they rightfully exercise their authority, it is not at all men they obey. "It is God," as Pope John pointed out, "the provident Creator of all things whom they rever-ence. through their obedience, since He has decreed that men's dealings with one another should be regu-lated, by an order which He Himsdf has established. And in showing this due reverence to God, we do not debase ourselves, but rather perfect and ennoble our-selves. For to serve God is to rule." 40 Since the right to command is required by the moral order and has its source in God, it follows that if au-thority (eVen civil) legislates for or allows anything that is contrar)~ to that order and therefore contrary to th~ will of God, neither the laws made nor the authoriza-tions granted can be binding on the consciences of the citizens, since we must obey God 'rather than men. If this were not so, then autho~:ity would break down com-pletely and would result in or be open to shameful abuse. The net result of this would be the degradation of the human person.41 Obedience, then, does not regard so much the persoh in authority as rather the authority of the person in charge. For obedience is given not so much to a per-son as rather to a norm or set of societal laws or rules or norms or constitutions which this authority is called upon to safeguard. Yet to a certain extent obedience is given also to a person, that is, to God who incarnates Himself in this' set, of expressions when they fulfill the definition of law: an ordinance of reason established for ~o Pacem in terris, America Press edition, § 50, p. 18; also, §§ 46-9, pp. 17-8. ~a Ibid., § 51, p. 18. the common good, promulgated by one who has rightful authority.42 From what we have seen, it. should be evident that the purpose of authority is the common good; in fact, this comes from the very etymology of the word. It is derived from the Latin word "augere" which means to increase or foster or enlarge. It is. of the very nature of anyone in authority to make decisions and move people about or command their wills but only in the interest of the common good. Thus, the motivating force behind one in authority cannot be merely the good of the individual member but rather the overall common good of the group or society over which he or she has charge. This end, of course, does not exclude the good of the individual either. Rather it includes it, since the indi-vidual pertains to the group as a part pertains to the whole. Authority exists for the sake of those over whom it is set. It is a service to God and to th~ community and to the individual member of this community. As Pope John mentioned: Indeed since the whole reason for the existence of civil authorities is the realization of the common good, it is clearly necessary that in pursuing this objective, they should respect its essential elements, and at the same time conform their laws to the needs of a given historical situation . For the common good is intimately bound up with human nature. It can never exist fully and completely unless its intimate nature and realization being what they are, the human person is taken into account.~ Authority is established to develop and lead to per-fection and fulfillment the self-respect of the group and of each individual member of the group, to impress upon the group as well as each individual member the per-sonality which is proper to it and to them, a personality which is determined by the end or purpose for which the society exists. It is not set up to be an opportunity to exercise a lordship or dominion, or to receive respect or reverence or service. It is a ministry unto unity, even while it fosters diversity. It can readily be seen that excessive severity or ri-gidity on the part of authority originates from a false idea. It comes most often from an over-estimation of oneself on the part of the one in authority, or from pedagogical incompetence, or from the inability to han-dle individual persons, or perhaps even from some sense of inferiority in the face of the subordinates one has ' to command. It is for one or more of these reasons that ~ This point would seem to have some relevance for women since modern psychology reveals that often they find it somewhat more difficult to abstract from the concrete person involved in superior-subject relationships. ~ Pacem in terris, §§ 54-5, pp. 19-20. ÷ ÷ ÷ Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 175 ÷ ÷ ÷ C. A. SchCle.Sc.kC,. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS authority often ends up?by having to work at a distance from its subjects rather than in close collaboration with them and leadership of them; and in so doing it fails to accomplish the full perfection df the task that is assigned to it--the bringing out in the society and the individual members¯ of it the personality or the personalities that are proper to it.44 While ,the initial success of obedience rests on the wise and efficient Use of authority---on government ac-cording to reason rather than merely by will--still it can also be said that the ultimate success of this institu-tion and the realization of the common good rests upon the harmonious cooperation and collaboration of those who are subject to this authority. Individuals and inter-mediate groups are obliged to make their specific contri-butions to the common welfare. Thus, one of the chief consequences of this is that these individuals or groups must bring their own interests into harmony with the needs o] the community, and they must dispose of their goods and of their services as the legitimate authorities prescribe in.accord with the norms of justice and within the limits or, their competence.4~ It is on!y in that society or community in which each member consents to do his part, and all his part, and nothing but his part (that is, not interfering with others) that everything will be correctly done. Such is true of the workings of the human body, and.~such, is true of the' working of an orchestra. For only when each one executes faithfully what is on the sheet of music before him will the entire piece be a perfect success. If one of the members of the orchestra departs from the score, not harmony but cacophony and discord will result. While it is true that not all the parts o(the orchestra have equally exciting or exhilarating functions to play, .still each of them has to be performed correctly it the end ot the orchestra is going to be achieved. There are some per-sons who play a.ll the time, and there are 'others who play only an occasional note here and there throughout the entire piece. Yet it this occasional note, small as it is in comparison with the whole, is not played exactly when and where it is to be played, the overall beauty of the music would be marred. Granted it is not very enticing or alluring to have to count out measure after meas6re without doing anything active, still each mere-a By "personality" I mean the'harmonious development of all the human and supernatural qualities of a person in subordination to the common good, to God, the lesser good being subordinated to the greater good. So understood, there is no conflict between the personality and obedience. There will at times be need for re-nunciation by an individual or small group, but this will be asked for the common good. See "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 194-5. ~ Pacem in teriis, § 53, p. 19. ber of the orchestra knows that this inconvenience must be endured, since the concert is not merely for th~ players but for the audience listening to it. A similar thing is true in the case of any society. F6r the good of the society is attained only when those under authority perfectly fulfill the tasks and offices and duties to which they are assigned--and as human beings---and when authority learns to utilize the experience and training and talents of those it commands in reference to the community endeavor. Thus, the power of au-thority can be defined as a power of cooi:dination guaranteeing the unity of a communitary plurality;, but. only in proportion to the consciousness with which each member of the community lives his function will the unity actually be achieved.46 From this it should be clear that a true concept of obedience and its correlative authority is far from the limited distortion so often emphasized in "stress writ-ing" today. It is a positive force for the fulfillment of men and women, of persons, but within the sphere of community as well as within the sphere of their, private world. A community in which the members have the proper respect for those in authority and willingly and intelligently carry out their specific functions and roles must necessarily be one in which tranquility reigns.4~ Authentic obedience liberates a person once and for all from his personal instability, sentimentality, and blind passions. It is a free and voluntary option which leaves the spirit open and receptive to many values which pre-sent themselves. The person who never makes such a choice and who never commits himself is less open, less broad-minded than one who has anchored his life to an obedience, seeing his life in and through it as a building directed by God. Yet for all this, such a relationship~ obedience-authority---does involve a struggle, one that includes very painful aspects because it disturbs very deep desires in men who are not as yet totally harmonized and humanized by the power of Christ's redeeming grace. Religious Obedience: What It Adds to Obedience in General Today it is most important that we show that obedi-ence is universal in character and belongs to the very life of the Church. It is, therefore, not entirely correct to call it the virtue of the monk "or of the religious. For obedience in a sense is just as absolute and obligatory for the layman as for the monk or religious even though ~A. Paoli, "Obedience," Cross Currents, v. 15 (1965), pp. 284-5. ~J. Aumann, "Current Trends," Cross and Crown, v. 17 (1965), pp. 347-8. Obedience " VOLUME 25, '1966 177 4. C. A. Schleck, C.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 178 there¯ are differences. This absoluteness of obedience even for the layman stems from the universal vocation of all who are baptized to holiness of life.48 Yet for all this we do find differences, in fact differences which serve to establish one in a different way of life within the Church. As Pope Paul mentioned in a recent allocution: It has seemed good to Us to recall here the priceless im-portance and necessary function of religious life; for this state of life which receives its distinctive character from profession of the evangelical counsels is a perfect way of life according to the example and teaching of Jesus Christ, especially since it is a state of life which keeps in view the constant growth of charity leading to final perfection. In other ways of life the specific ends, advantages, and functions, though legitimate in them- ¯ selves, are of a temporal character . Hence it follows that the profession of the evangelical vows is an augmentation of that consecration which is proper to baptism. It is a kind of special consecration which perfects the former one inasmuch as by it the follower of Christ totally commits and dedicates himself to God, thereby making his entire life a service to God alone.'~ When we come to determine these differences more precisely we would find them to be especially three: (1) it extends the practice of obedience; (2) it changes the end or, perhaps better, affects the end for which one obeys; and (3) it places us in a more direct contact with the will of God, than does life outside religion (this has to be understood cautiously). First, religious obedience extends the control of Church authority over the person who freely and voluntarily enters a religious society. For by entering, a woman freely, and let us hope joyfully, gives to the persons of her superiors and their decision-making power even that legitimate freedom of action and movement with regard to time and exterior lif~ which she enjoyed in the world. Consequently, the obligation or the moral imperative of the virtue of obedience is extended also ,s Paul VII Magno gaudio affecti, May 23, 1964; English trans-lation, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 23 (1964), p. 699. But especially see the Constitution on the Church of Vatican Council II, Chapter 5 (English translation, REVIEW FO~ RELIGIOUS, V. 24 [1965], pp. 707-- ~ Paul VI, Magno gaudio affecti, as cited in the preceding foot-note. This difference is also indicated in the Constitution on the Church: "Since it is necessary thfft His followers should always imi-tate and give testimony to this charity and humility of Christ, the Church rejoices that there are to be found within her many men and women who closely follow and clearly show forth the self-emptying of the Savior, doing this by assuming poverty in the spirit of the freedom of the children of God and by renouncing their own wills. For the sake o[ God and with respect to what pertains to per-fection they make themselves subject to a man, going beyond the measure o[ what is commanded in order to be more lully con]ormed to the obedient Christ" (Chapter 5; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. v. 24 [1965], pp. 712-3). to meet these new acts which religious authority can now command according to the norms of the particular society or community involved. For as we mentioned above, a religious vows or promises obedience primarily to God within the framework of a society and its particu-lar or peculiar norm of life rather than to a person, even though the two ~ire in a sense identified whenever the person in authority commands according to the norm. In fact, it is this very extension of obedience which makes religious commitment today the difficult thing that it is for so many young girls. As Pius XII remarked in an address to the International Congress for the States of Perfection in 1950: If the number of candidates wishing to enter the enclosed gardens of the religious life is diminishing, especially among young women, the reason very frequently is that they find it difficult to divest themselves of their own judgment and sur-render their [reedom o[ action, as the very nature of the vow of obedience demands. Indeed some praise as the real peak of moral perfection, not the surrender of liberty for the sake of the love of Christ, but the curbing of such surrender. The norm to be preferred in the formation of a just and holy person would seem to be this: restrict liberty only where necessary; otherwise, give liberty free rein as far as possible. We by-pass the question whether this new foundation on which some are trying to build the edifice of sanctity will be as effective and as solid in supporting and augmenting the apostolic work of the Church as was the one which through fifteen hundred years has been provided by that ancient rule of obedience undertaken for the love of Christ. What is now of supreme importance is to examine this proposal thoroughly to disclose what lies concealed beneath the surface. This opinion, if care-fully considered not only fails to appreciate the nature of the evangelical counsel but it somehow twists it to a meaning in accord with its theory. No one is obliged to choose for himself the counsel of perfect obedience, which essentially is a rule of life whereby one surrenders the control of his own will. No one, we repeat, be it an individual or a group. They can if they wish conform to this new rule. But words must be under-stood and accepted according to .their obvious meaning, and if this norm is compared with the vow of obedience it surely does not possess the same supreme value, nor is it an adequate expression of the wonderful example recorded in Holy Scrip-ture: "He humbled Himself becoming obedient unto death." ~0 He therefore is himself deceived and deceives others who forgetting the propensities of the soul and the inspiration of divine grace, offers as a guide to one seeking advice about en-tering the religious state only that new norm. Hence if it is clear that the voice of God is calling someone to the heights of evangelical perfection without any hesitation he should be invited for the attainment of this lofty purpose to offer freely the sacrifice of his liberty as the vow of obedience demands, that vow, We proclaim, which the Church has through so many centuries weighed, has put to the test, has properly delineated and has approved. Let no one against his will be compelled to Phil 2:8. ÷ ÷ ÷ ObedienCe VOLUME 25, 1966 1'/9 ÷ ÷ C. A. $chleck, C.$.C. REVIEW,FOR REL]G|OU$ 180 this self-consecration; but if he does will it, let no one counsel him against it; above all let no one hold him bacL= Moreover, the end to Which the superiors of a re-ligious community are to lead the one presenting her-self to it is not merely a natural end, such as is true at least proximately of a natural society. The first or pri-mary role and duty of religious superiors is to lead their members or subordinates to intimate communion and union wiih God through the perfection of love or charity by way o~ personal assimilation and expression. No human society has this as its direct and primary end, whereas a religious society does not exist and can-not exist except ~or this purpose.~2 Thus the primary end of religious communities is to lead their members to "seek God solely and before anything else," 53 and this by the profession of the vows, especially that of obedience which is the most important and which in a sense in-cludes the others since we vow obedience to the consti-tutions which include the practice of the other two vows. And finally, religious obedience puts a subject into more direct and immediate contact with the will of God than any other framework of life. This was certainly the thought of Benedictine monasticism which regarded the abbot as the one who took the place of God ~or the monk so long as the abbot commanded according to the norms of the monastic community. And it also seems to be the normally accepted thinking of the magister-ium. In speaking to major superiors in 1958, Plus XII pointed out the place which religious superiors have in regard to the government of the Church: Beloved sons who by the suave designs of God's providence have been placed in .command of your members engaged in the quest of perfection, gathered as you are in Our presence, it is with uncommon joy that We salute you in the name of the Lord, as men chosen to be associated with Us--and in no mean capacity--in Our apostolic office. For as We said a few years ago in speaking to your members at the first General Congress of the States of Perfection, the religious state "has its existence and strength from its intimate connection with the end of the Church herself, which is to lead men to the attainment of holiness." And the Church, the Spouse of Christ, would not fully correspond to His will, nor would the eyes of men be raised to her in hope as to a "standard set up unto the nations" if there were not found in her some who, more by example than by word, are especially resplendent with the beauty of the Gospel. In this department of Our work, therefore, beloved Sons, We have taken you as associates of Our supreme o~ce, either directly by delegating to you through the Code of Canon ~ Canon Law Digest for Religious, v. 1 (Milwaukee: Bruce, 1964), pp. 91-2. ~ See footnote 49. The specific end of marriage is not.perfection or charity, at least so it would seem from this statement. ~ See Vatican Council II, Decree on Adaptation and Renewal of the Religious Lile, nos. 5--6; NCWC Documentary Service. Law some share of Our supreme jurisdiction, or by laying the foundations of your so-called "dominative power" by Our ap-proval of your rules and Constitutions. And so We have it very much at heart that you should exercise this authority of yours according to Our mind and that of the Church. It is with clear vision and turning neither to right nor to the left that Superiors should lead their subjects securely to eternal life by the safe way of truth, with firm leadership and if necessary with a strong hand. To quote the patriarch of those who, in the Western world, str~ve for evangehcal perfectmn: The A hot should neither teach nor establish nor command anything that is outside the teaching of the Lord.''~ It is because religious superiors in some way share in ecclesiastical authority that when they command in keeping with the norms of this authority they place us in contact with the will of God. This is why Pius had also a year previously rejected the argument against re-ligious obedience drawn from the alleged fact that the dependence of a religious upon his superior was con-trary to the supreme and direct dominion of God over conscience: To insist that a man depend on another even as to his personal life and activity--is not this to confer on the superior prerogatives which belong onl)~ to God? The Church has never defended nor approved such a contention. She regards obedi-ence as a means of leading man to God. Since the motive which inspires it is union with God and since the final aim of obedi-ence is growth in charity, the superior is by no means an obstacle standing between God and the subject and arrogating to himself the homage which is directed only to God. The superior can command only in the name of God and in virtue of the powers entrusted to him, and the subject is bound to obey only for the love of Christ, not for any motives of human advantage or convenience--and much less by mere constraint. Thus he will preserve even in the most complete submission the eager joy of renewing each day concretely his total consecration to the one supreme Master . Let us first recall the words of our Savior: "Come to me all you who labor and are burdened, and I will refresh you . Learn of me because I am meek and humble of heart, and you shall find rest for your souls." ~ If our Lord thus invites men to take up His yoke, it is to teach them that beyond mere legal observance, which easily be-comes burdensome and hard to bear, they are to discover the meaning of true submission and Christian humility. Far [rom offending the dignity of one who submits, this will give him in-terior liberty and show him how to accept his state of subjec-tion, not as a constraint from without, but as a surrender of himself into the hands of God, whose will is expressed through the visible authority of those whose mission it is to command. The Superior for his part will use his powers in the same evangelical spirit: "He that is the greater among you, let him become the younger; and he that is leader as he that serves." ~ From this it should be clear that the superior has as ~ Allocution to Major Superiors, February 11, 1958; Canon Law Digest ]or Religious, v. 1, pp. 194-5. ~ Mt 11:28-9. ~Lk 22:26. See also the Address to the States o] Per]ection, December 9, 1957; Canon Law Digest for Religious, v. 1, pp. 132, 130. 4" 4" 4" Obedience VOLUME 25, 1"966' ' 181 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS her function the apostolic duty of mediating God's will to human minds. It is because she is the instrument whom God uses to make known His will to the sub-ject that she has the duty to listen to God herself, to seek the will of God and the directives of the Spirit in regard to the subject, even using the subject's communi-cation to her in seeking this out. If the subject is ex-pected to see Christ in her superior, then the superior also is expected to see Christ in the subject, for she is a member of the Body of Christ. As Christians they are equal, and it is possible for the subject to receive cer-tain lights and directives from the Holy Spirit.5~ Yet even these are subject to the final decision of those in authority when authority acts within its powers. Con-sequently, it is the duty of the subject to accept the fact that when authority has issued a command, it has also been listening to God's word and is not merely issuing a command for the exercise of power. With all this in mind it should be quite easy to grasp the statement that in a way the problem of obedience is simpler for the subject than for the superior. As far as the subject is concerned, obedience enjoys a kind of infallibility, such that the subject is never wrong in obeying when the superior operates within the limits of her powers. This, of course, has to be understood cor-rectly. A distinction must be made between the proxi-mate end and the remote end of a law. It is quite possible that in reference to the proximate end, the de-cision of the superior is not always the best. Yet with regard to the remote or ultimate end, this decision trans-mits infalliblY the will of God and the subject cannot make any mistake in obeying it. In giving a command or making a decision it is the general policy of superiors to be pursuing a proximate end or an immediate and definite purpose. A superior for example may give a, sub-ject a directive aimed at helping the subject improve in some area of her teaching or nursing. In such matters it is quite possible for the superior to make a mistake. ¯ She can tell the subject to take a certain kind of exercise and the subject incapacitates herself from doing ttiis. In regard to this, then, the immediate or proximate end, the superior can be quite fallible. But we can also con-sider the superior's decision in relation to its remote li:'l; end: to reveal to the subject the will of God in her re-gard, And this particular will of God is merely a part o[ the total plan of divine providence and government of mankind. ~We have a rather darkened and limited intellect and our range of vision is quite small. Thus we could very mVatican Council II, Constitution on the Church, Chapter 2, n. 12; R~vmw FOR RELmIOUS, V. 24 (1965), pp. 677-8. easily be mistaken when we pass judgment on some event or other. We can look at it as a failure when in reality it has many further nuances. We must remember that the total plan of God is a supremely harmonious one in which every detail is wisely provided for, willed or permitted by God. We see only a part of the overall plan and may easily think that talents and so on are quite wasted. Yet from God's viewpoint everything is quite clear and well ordered, and every detail is ac-cording to His plan. Thus an action decided on by a superior may very well result in failure on the human plane. In relation to its ultimate end, however,, it is willed or permitted, by God. Thus what seems a failure to our human shortsightedness is really a part of the great harmonious plan of God. And in this long-range view the apparent failure which contributes to the har-mony of the overall design is really a success. Thus the subject, failing according to our human approach and view through her obedience, is always fulfilling the authentic will of God. She contributes to the realization of the total divine plan and therefore cannot make a mistake. Her union with the divine will is infallible, in this sense. This does not mean that the superior cannot make a mistake in commanding or deciding. Far from it. It is possible in commanding or deciding that the stiperior gives evidence of incompetence, or ignorance, or pre-cipitation, or anger, even of malice. And we cannot pos-sibly consider any of these virtuous actions. It can be from the superior's point of view a mistake and even a sin, even a grave sin. But unless the superior commands a sinful action, the duty of the subject is to obey.as Thus the principle that we have been attempting to show still holds. The subject enjoys a kind of infallibility in the practice of obedience, which the superior does not necessarily enjoy. It is the great St. Teresa who was so convinced of this that she wrote: "Suppose the confes-sor makes a mistake, the safest way for a religious is to follow his direction exactly, even .though an angel of the Lord may have spoken to her (indicating a different direction). For our Lord will either enlighten his min, ister or arrange matters in such a way that this soul will not fail in obeying." 59 It is precisely the role of the vow of obedience to permit us to conform our will to God's in our least actions and at every moment of our ~sI shall clarify this at greater length when speaking .of the qualities of obedience. ~ Book o] Foundations in The Complete Works of St. Teresa of Avila, ed. E. Allison: Peers, vo 3 (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1951), p. 42. For a more complete treatment of this note of infallibility in obedience, see R. Morency, S.J., "The Ex~rcise of Authority in the Light of Present-Day Problems," "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 172-4. ÷ + ÷ VOLUME 25,. 1956 ]83 4. 4. + REV[EW FOR REL]G]OU5 life. In obeying, in fulfilling what is demanded by rule and constitutions and by superiors, the religious has the certainty (in faith, of course, as we shall see) of dbing exactly what God wants her to do at each moment of her life. By obedience she conforms her will to God's. What we have been discussing is based on the fol-lowing considerations. Christian thought has always recognized in ecclesiastical leaders the representatives of Christ. Yet we are not to .feel that the decisions of those in authority on any particular point are identical with the direct revelation of God's designs. Nor are we to conclude that the dedisions of those in authority are identical with those which Christ Himself. would make in simil~tr circumstances. (This would be to push the "mystique" of obedience beyond its limits.) The mem-bers of communities who are in authority are secondary causes and remain so.'Zhey act with such intelligence and competence and skill as God has given them or as they may have acquired with His talents and grace. He does not transform their imperfections and weaknesses into ggod qualities. It is true of course that He does compensate~ for them, but this is different. Yet it is in spite of these insufficiencies whether hidden or obvious that Christ continues to govern His Church through such agents. It is through them that He works out His plan of redemption. The true concept of obedience does not consist in believing that every decision imposed by those in au-thority is the only possible one in the circumstances, or the best in the absolute sense. The Church's infallibility is involved only in the order of the magisterium and not at all in the purely jurisdictional order. No doubt, of course, the Holy Spirit assists those in authority to pre-ser~, e them from making blunders in the exercise of their power. But the Holy Spirit has never promised to guaran-tee them against every blunder in the sphere of govern-ment. The possibility of erroneous decisions will always be with the Church (like certain of its other marksl). But one thing remains certain; nothing can shake it, not even the possibility of error: God wants us to obey His delegates when they give legitimate orders. The Son of God made the Church His Body; and He decreed that the obedience which began in the Head should con-tinue in the Body, such that obedience is integrated with the Church's very existence. It is a vital law in the Body of Christ. Yet for all-this our Lord did not prom-ise His ministers, governing or teaching, all the human talents that might be necessary for a task which is ut-terly beyond, them. He sought the leaders and' teachers of His early Church on the Lake of Gennesaret not in the schools or in the council chambers of kings. And the same is true today. Not all the popes are the most wise and clever or learned, or even saints. Thus the real is-sue in religious obedience will always be in the spiritual order. The point at issue is simply this, that we must re-member in our own lives the words of the Lord: He who hears you hears me. And when He uttered these words, He knew what sort of men His own disciples were; he knew the level of their training and of their intelligence; even the limits of their generosity. Yet He still said:~ "He who hears you hears me and Him who sent me,. my Father," s0 From all this it follows that until the subject comes to.see in her superior the authority of the Master, there can be no real living religious obedience that is truly supernatural. 'For the subject is asked to see the presence of Christ and His directive providence whenever the su-perior commands her to fulfill the constitutions or rules or the laws which she has voluntarily and freely taken upon herself. We can go so far as to say that if Christ Himself. were to appear at the moment a. religious su-perior is giving us a command, He Himself would either give this same command or permit it to be given for some greater good He has in mind. By entering a reli-gious community one voluntarily enters upon a training program by which she is enabled to tend to the perfec-tion of cha~:ity. She enters what Benedict called the school of the Lord's service. And like a,ny0ne in any school, she has to be taught and instructed and exer-cised to attain the end for which she entered. And that demands being placed under a master or leader, at le'ast as far as those things which pertain to the religious life. are concerned. And while this process of learning may one day be terminated, such fhat the le~ider can no longer teach the religious who may be older and moie experienced than she in religion, still the exercising of one in obedience will always be necessary so that the habitual inclination to obey will not become rusty for want of practice and exercise. The ,dims of "Religious Obedience Proceeding to the aims of religious obedience we find them to be four: (1) it cuts away solicitude; (2) it di-rects us to the fullness of charity; (3) it enables us" to ful~ fill a sacramental mission in the Church; and (4) it effects a community of service for the Body of Christ. The first aim of religious obedience is somewhat .nega-tive in tone. You are all familiar with it. It attempts to cut away the constant solicitude as to .what we should do, where we should live, and how we should direct our ® See A. de Bovis, S.J., The Church:" Christ's Mystery and Sa~ra. rnent (New York: Hawthorn, 1961), pp. 123-4. Obed~,nce VOLUME 25, 1966 + + + C. A. SchCle.Sc.kC,. REVIEW:FOR RELIGIOUS 186 lives. This we do by placing our lives in the hands of another or others who represent for us God. The ab-negation of self which is involved in 0bedi~nce is quite well defined in such a practice. As the recent decree on adaptation and renewal in the religious life has it: In professing obedience religious offer the full surrender of their own will as a sacrifice of themselves to God and so are united permanently and securely to God's salvific will. After the example of Jesus Cliristwho came to do the will of the Father, an d "assumi-ng the nature of a slave" learned obedience in the school of suffering, religious under the motion of the Holy Spirit subject themselves in faith to their superiors who hold the place of God.°1 While abnegation is involved in all obedience, in reli-gious obedience it becomes a constant and permanent dynamic and not something that is exercised only from time to time.Indeed, from a negative viewpoint, it is this constant and complete renunciation of our own will in preference to that of another wherein we find. our sanctity and wherein we find a holocaustal offering of our wills to God rather than a mere sacrificial offering of them to Him. That is why Christ in laying down the injunction for tile highest sanctity and perfection very frankly and openly said "He who would be my disciple must deny himself." 62 Without this personal abnega-tion there can be no sanctity which patterns itself after that of our Lord, that is, there is no sanctity which can call itself fully Christian. If we are to derive from reli- . gious obedience all of its fruit in the way of renuncia-tion of our own .wills, then we must subject them to the concrete will or wills of those superiors who are placed over us to mediate to us the will of God in our regard. From this it should be clear that religious obedience is established on the obedience of Christ, the following of Christ, which attained its full measure in the sacrifice of the Cross. If the religious consecration is derived from the consecration of Christ to the work of redemption, the vow of obedience has its source in the redemptive obedience of Christ. Therefore it is entirely insufficient to justify the vow of obedience by making exclusive ap-peal to the need for one authority for the organization of a life in community or for the carrying out of an ~postolate. This would be to make the mistake of con-side. ring religious obedience as merely a vehicle for apostolic activity. This notion of obedience as ordering us for community action is indeed a necessary part of religious obedience, especially in an active community, but the vow does not have for its exclusive object or Vatican II, Decree on Adaptation. Lk 9:23. end the development of obedience under the title of a purely social virtue such as is true of Marxist com-munism. It has for one of its properly religious values the task and aim of assimilating the life of the religious to that of Christ, to make pass into the person the fundamental attitude of the Redeemer. And as such it is meant to lead to the personal sanctification of the one who enters upon this way of life.°8 A second aim of religious obedience and one much more positive than the preceding is its close connection with the religious' growth in charity. We mentioned above that the practice of religious obedience differs from that of obedience practiced in a civil or natural society in that it puts us into more immediate contact with the will of God than does the latter. It is meant to bring about the perfect "unum velle" and the perfect "unum nolle" of our wills with that of Christ. For to love God is not merely to surrender or give up some-thing of our own will. It is to adhere positively and firmly to the will of the one we love~ It is to transform the willing of ourselves into that of the person we love. The more constant and actual this union of wills be-comes~: the more actual and constant does our love for this person become. And to love God means to do what He desires; it is to obey. The gospel makes this quite clear.64 That is why obedience in a religious commu-nity, which reaches to every action of a person's life, contributes so efficaciously to bring about the perfect union of wills which is the goal of the Christian life and in which Christian perfection consists. This is, as we know, Christian perfection, a union of Jove or charity or agapd, or a union in love, charity, and agapd. It is quite important that your religious understand this connection. As we have seen above, often in the order transmitted to us by superiors there'is an apparent lack of logic which at times might even seem to contradict a profound personal obedience (it goes against my con-science!). This difficulty can only be solved with love, a love that transmits and a love that accepts. The problem of obedience cannot ever be resolved in exact terms; it is more an intuition than the result of a logical proc-ess. We must frequently offer ourselves without seeing the result of our actions. This we can do only if we discover the relationship of love in obedience. It is love which provides the special intuition which makes it pos-sible [or both the one who obeys and the one who com-mands to arrive at the conclusion: I know that I can ~ See J. Galot, S.J., "R~demption et vie religieuse," in La vie re-ligieuse dans l'Eglise du Christ, p. 109. ~ Paoli, "Obedience," p. 278; Mt 22:37--40; Rom 13:I0; Gal 5:14; Jn 14:21; 15:10; 1 Jn 2:5; 3:24; 5:3. + + + Obedience VOLUME'25, 1~66 187 ÷ ÷ C. A. SchCle.Sc.kC,. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 188 trust myself to her or, more exactly, to Him, We will abandon ourselves entirely to a person and to his will once we feel that his will needs no justification because we love the person. We do what he wishes because it pleases him, and all that pleases him gives us joy because we love him.65 If this is ever true, it is certainly true when the other person involved is God. Obedience when understood in this light is the supreme instrument o[ charity; and once this is truly accepted by a religious, then her obedience is not going to be merely something that pertains to one of the virtues connected with jus-tice, or'a rendering of what she owes to someone or to a community because of her having surrendered herself to it. No, her obedience will go and was meant to go beyond this. It was intended to allow her to submit her-self to the direction of another, God, not merely because she considers Him to be the commander of her life but because He is one whom she has chosen as her Spouse,. because He is one whom she loves, because He is one With whom she has entered into a marital relationship of the spirit. Thus obedience, especially in the case of the religious sister should become an occasion for her pure love for Christ her Spouse and, as such, should realize the most perfect submission possible to another, one that ends in the ecstasy of one will in that of an-other, or of the person loving in the person of the be-loved." It is only when and where a religious sister has made this her idea and ideal of obedience that it be-comes not just a means of arriving at the perfection of charity but also a concrete way in which she can show or express, sacramentalize the love of charity or agapd which, she has toward Christ. Obedience becomes a sign of charity, an act by which she adheres to the will of one whom she loves, as a bride adheres to the will and the desires and good pleasure of her husband. Unless this love enters into her practice of obediehce it can easily remain sterile or, if having sprung up, die or wither. And the grain of wheat which fell into the ground at the time of profession never really does die, as Christ uses this figure. Rather, it remains alone and never does produce the fruit which it should and which it was meant to produce by the sower who placed the seed of vocation in her heart rather than in that of someone else. Still a third aim of religious obedience is that it be sacramental, that is, that it propose to us in visible form some extremely important truth of salvation. This was true in the case of Christ who is the sacrament of God's encounter with man and man's encounter with Paoli, "Obedience," pp. 287-8. k God. In Christ not only were God and His love for man revealed, but God also showed us in Him what it is for man to commit himself unconditionally to God the invisible Father. It was only upon His rising from the dead, because of the love and obedience of His life, that the Father established Him in power, or absolutely as Christ, the sender of the Spirit. In the Church also, the extension of Christ on earth, or the earthly body of Christ, it is in the word of obedience that God's will becomes manifest to us. This is why to a certain extent in the case of religious obedience, the word of.obedience is sacramental. It is not so much a word about some-thing as rather the sign under which God's saving will in Christ makes itself present for us here and now within our history. It is in and through obedience, through the word of authority that God's saving reality can address itself to spiritual persons, calling on them for the free obedience of faith and trusting surrender of love. Sal-vation becomes present to religious in the word of obedi-ence, a word which calls for a free personal assent. 'Christ's going out from the Father into the world, a world at enmity with God because of its sins, receives a commission to bear witness to mankind's dependence and need for even more dependence upon God. Only when He had lived His Sonship through to the very end in total obedience to the Father even to the death of the Cross was His divine Sonship fully revealed. Thus it was through His human life that the abiding expression of the Son's obedience to the Father became visibly ex-pressed, and it was His death itself that was the supreme expression or epiphany of His religious surrender to the Father. This self-giving in the way of obedience through self-dispossession is the very essence of the religious com-mitment in the service of God.6~ Thus the practice of obedience as a community affair and as a personal affair is intended to be a constant and visible reminder to all who see religious that all men, all creatures will have true joy only by remaining in a continuous and permanent state of complete and entire dependence on God, a state in which the love of a creature is constantly responding to the love of the Creator, or in the case of religious women a state of de-pendence in which the love of a bride is constantly re-sponding to the love and entreaties of her husband. Man has need of this image since the relationship of man-kind with God is feminine as Scripture so often points out. This sacramentalism of obedience has been very clearly shown by St. Paul in referring to Christian mar-riage: "You married women must subordinate your- ~ Schillebeeckx, Christ the Sacrament, pp. 18--9, 28. ÷ ÷ ÷ Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 189 4. 4. C,. A. $chleck, ~.$.C. REVIEW,'FOR RELIGIOUS 190 selves to your husbands as to the Lord. For a husband is the head of his wife just as Christ is the head of :the Church which :is his Body and is saved by Him. Just as the Church is in subjection to Christ, so married women must be in everything subject to their hus-bands." a~ As we mentioned when speaking of virginity, the marriage of the virgin.with Christ is the prototype or the model or exemplar of that existing between husband and wife. Thus the submission and obedience of the virgin of Christ to her Lord is to be the model or sacra-ment for all Christian men and women and also for the whole body of redeemed and unredeemed mankind, since this is called to relationship with Christ as His body-person, as His immaculate spouse, wedded to Him 'forever in undying love and submission or surrender, as He is to His Father, Thus there is a sacramental reality attached to the religious obedience of the woman that is not present in the case of the man. And it is this very ¯ modification which can make the practice of obedience something powerful and attractive. And it is this sacra-mental purpose of obedience that meets the need of the Church today. For it is more important than ever to show that obedience is universal in character ~and be-longs to the very, life of the Church. Religious life is not just an "extra, with regard to the Christian life; it is its mOSt~ striking .visible manifestation. Obedience brings to it the completion of our baptismal faith or perfects the consecration proper-to baptism,as If religious life and particularly obedience are to be truly a manifestation of the Christian. life in its perfection, then they must be truly radiant, .truly perfect. Only then~ will they serve their purpose for .existence in the Church; only then wil! they be 'truly alive and dynamic in the Church.a9 It is because of this sacramental aspect of obedience in ~ Eph 5:22 ft. ~ "Thus the profession of the evangelical counsels is a super-addition to that consecration which is proper to baptism. It is in-deed a special consecration which perfects the former oue,.iuasmuch as by it the follower ~f Christ totally commits himself and dedi-cates himself to God; thereby making his entire life a service to God alone" (Paul VI, Magno gaudio a~ecti; REVIEW VOR RI~LXGIOUS, V. 25 [1964], pp. 699-700). See also the Constitution on the Church, Chap-ter 6, n. 44; REVIEW VOR R~LIclous, v. 24 (1965), pp. 714-5; and J. Laplace, ':Education to Obedience," pp. 68-9. ~.This note of "sacramentality" should be seriously considered in all changes and adaptations. It is said that regularity weighs much less on young religious today than ever before. Remarks about re-ligious exercises are rather disparaging. They are considered quite out-of-date or naive~most probably because the values of these things have not been clearly presented. As one author remarks: "It is quite evident that we are suffering from a very evident lack of clear principles presenting valueJ behind certain religious exercises and regularity." We know that when values are not seen neither are the exercises. See M. Belanger, O.M.L, "Donum Dei" 3, pp: 106-7. religion that those who obey should obey as though they were obeying Christ or as the New Testament has it, "as to the Lord." 70 Those who are obeyed shot~ld find the pattern of their conduct in the love and care of Christ, and they must also remember that they in tLirn owe obedience to Christ also. It is in this way that subordination will be met by love and concern. To un-derstand the aims of obedience thus far discussed in this light would seem tocorrectly place obedience in our striving after the perfection of charity. It would give to both superiors and to subjects their respective roles and attitudes and mentalities towards this practice: It points out that the first and chief concern of all superiors, es-pecially major, is the. leading of their subjects to inti-mate union with God. Their primary duty is not the un-raveling of the material and °temporal and financial difficulties of their office nor the successful carrying out of the external apostolates and activities entrusted to the congregation or order. It is to "lead their subjects to God. It is only to the extent that they fulfill this duty that they are making their greatest contribution and gift to God, to the Church, and to their own religious family. To destroy or forget this role of the superior in a religious community is to destroy the [amily atmos-phere that God intended to characterize every religious society. For a superior can too easily become a purely juridical figure or image, one who gives out permis-sions of one kind or another or one who is merely an ad-ministrator, one who organizes the community's work and policies. And then she very quickly loses her primary role, that of being a mother to those of her daughters whom God's providence has placed under her direction so that they might be helped to the perfection of char-ity by reason of her having been in labor until Ghrist was formed in them. It is only when authority is sus-tained by love that it becomes authority in the real and true sense of the word. For only then can it look to God and to the love of God as its real foundation. For His authority is always ultimately a loving authority,~ even when it punishes or corrects.71 It is true that you can say that your religious when taking vows knew that a great sacrifice would be expected of them, the re-nunciation of their wills, their families, the happiness of marriage, and the intimacy of a family and horiae. But all this is a sacrifice, and your own religious because they are usually among the most high-souled and gen-erous women in the Church feel it most keenly. It is most impo.rtant that this element of love be inserted into Eph 5:22. The States o] Per[ection, p. 324. + + + Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 ]91 th~ exercise of authority in your-case; for as Pius XII re-marked once in speaking to superiors of religious com-munities of~women: It is no doubt true as psychology affirms that the woman in-vested with authority does not succeed as easily as a man in finding the exact formula for combining strictness with kindness and establishing the balance between them. That is an added reason for cultivating your .motherly sentiments.7' Where this spirit is present, you can be assured that the overall characteristic note of religious discipline and" obedience will be found both in the individual houses as well as in the community at large filial confidence and family warmth. It is this :spirit which includes com-plete embracing of rules and customs that lessens your own burdens and is so, conducive both to your own most ardent desires as well as those of your ~eligious the personal and corporate sanctification of all the members. You will always find that where there is mu-tu~ il conviction of'good will, a true family spirit in which.the authority of those in charge is respected and the needs and the different temperaments of those working with those in charge are taken into considera-tion is always present. And it is only this presence that can make of an individual house or an entire com-munity what it was meant to be in the sight of the en-tire Church and world: a training ground and a proving C. A. Schleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ra Address to Mothers General, 1952; The States of Perfection, p. 217. When I speak of a mother-daughter relationship, I am not advocating a type of relationship that begets or retains an emo-tional infantilism. This has been defined as "a persistence of re-sponses in an adult that indicates a manner of coping with needs and reacting in a way that corresponds to the psychological attitude or modality of childhood" (M. Oraison, Illusion and Anxiety [New York: Macmillan, 1963], p. 133). There is an exaggerated dependence with fear of responsibility and an unreasonable need of affection and approval. It is often this last need for affection and approval ~hat has given rise to much criticism from subjects who feel mature and yet are the most insecure members of the communityl This in-fantilism comes most often from inadequate home training. And how is religion to cope. with this? It can be done, but it is not easy. God did not allow religious institutes to come into being for the specific purpose of training emotional infants. The family is th~ unit established for thisI As Pius says: "A religious house differs ~rom the family home; it is not the same and does not try to be, because within its walls zeal for dedication and self-denial for the love ~of Christ, and the austere penitential practices [I think he would say possible todayl] involve some measure of discomfort and pain, N~vertheless, as far as possible the religious house shall en-deavor to become a loved family home for each one of the com-munity. And undoubtedly this will be' achieved more easily if all alike respect the foundation structure of the natural virtues which ~requently are the proof of abundant supernatural vigor and splendor" (Address to Discalced Carmelites, 1951; The States oI Perfection, p. 204). ground for sanctity, a kind of an ante-chamber to the beatific vision. Still a fourth aim of religious obedience is the effec-tive building of a community of service for the needs of the Body of Christ. While we cannot and must not make the efficiency of the external .apostolate or the creation of a well-ordered community the exclusive end of the prac-tice of religious obedience, it is nonetheless an end and an important one. This results from what we saw above of the very nature and purpose of authority-itself---the creation of the common good or the good of the com-munity. The Church exists as a mystery of communion, of the many in the one Body of Christ. In the building up of Christ's Body the different members have different functions to fulfill, functions which are meant to build up and unify the whole human race which is called to be part of the catholic unity of the People of God. It is especially through the practice of obedience that reli-gious are brought into community both to be a sigh'of the perfect community of love, the community of the earthly Church and that of the pa.rousia, and also to be at the service of the Church. All the energies and tal-ents and training of the various members are ordered and dovetailed tO be put at the service of Christ and His Church. In fact it is quite true to say that the theol-ogy of obedience and authority is in a special way a theology of unity~and communion. Such a spirit is so welcome in an age when we.are trying to correct some of the deviations which may have unintentionally crept into religious obedience b~ a heavy concentration on its legal aspects. While it is and will always remain very necessary for both superiors and subjects to know exactly and precisely what is involved in the canonical prescriptions of obedience or that amount of obedience without which the community or society could not possibly hope to achieve its objectives, it still remains the function of superiors to urge and of subjects to strive to attain the perIection of obedience or the spirit of obedience. Whereas canonical obedience prescribes and .correcdy sets very ~definite limits to the minimum practice required of the members of a reli-gious society, perfect obedience ,inclines one to look upon everything contained in the religious life as an op-portunity by means of which the members can bring their 'wills and their persons, their whole persons, into perfect accord with the will and the heart of Christ and His Church. It will tend to make them attain the ulti-mate end for which they enter religion--to suppress all selfishness of their special points of view and rejoice to be hsed for the one great work of the redemption of the human race. While it is true that in the last analysis + 4. + Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 + + ÷ C. A. SchCle.Sc.kC,. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 194 it is the individual religious who will ultimately choose which of the two extensions of obedience she 4s going to take as her rule or norm--minimal obedience or per-fect-- authority does have much to do in shaping or forming a religious to one or other point of view. If authority continues to build up during the years of formation and also afterwards a greater awareness of the aims which we have just presented, it is much more likely that each religious would realize more and more as the years of her life pass by the promise of our Lord Himself to those who consent to follow Him closely: "My ~oke is sweet and my burden is ligh_ t." 7s How simply has all this been stated in the decrees of the Vatican Council: ¯. in order that he might derive greater fruit from his bap-tismal grace, he decides to free himself by his profession in the Church of the evangelical counsels from the impediments which might keep him from the fervor of charity and from giving God a perfect worship . Since the evangelical counsels by reason of the charity to which they lead, unite those who take them to the Church and her mystery in a special way, the spiritual life of those taking them should be consecrated also to the good of the entire Church. in accord with their capacities and the nature of their vocation . " In professing obedience, religious offer the full surrender of their own will as a sacrifice of themselves to God and so are united permanently and securely to God's salvific will. After the example of Jesus Christ who came to do the will of the Father and "assuming the nature of a slave" learned obedience in the school of suffering, religious under the motion of the Holy Spirit, subject themselve~in faith to their superiors who hold the place of God. Under their guidance, they are led to serve all their brothers in Christ, just as Christ Himself in obedience to the Father served His brethren and laid down His life as a ransom for many. So they are closely bound to the service of the Church and strive to attain the measure of the full manhood of Christ. Religious, therefore, in the spirit of faith and love for the divine will should humbly obey their superiors according to their rules and constitutions. Realizing that they are con-tributing to building up the Body of Christ according to God's plan, they should use both the forces of their intellect and will and the gifts of nature and grace to execute the commands and fulfill the duties entrusted to them. In this way religious obedi-ence, far from lessening the dignity of the human person, by ex-tending the freedom of the sons of God leads it to maturity. Superiors, as those who are to givaen ~ account of the souls entrusted to them, should fulfill their office in a way responsive to God's will. They should exercise their authority out of a spirit of service to the brethren, expressing in this way the love with which God loves their subjects. They should govern these as sons of God, respecting their human dignity. In this way they make it easier for them to subordinate their wills,~ r~Mt 11:30. Vatican II, Constitution on the Church, Chapter 6, n. 44; R~- wrw roa Rr_meious, v. 24 (1965), p. 714. Vatican II, Decree on Adaptation. The Qualities oI Religious Obedience Under this partic~ular heading many various consider-ations could be taken up. It seems best, however, to limit ourselves to a few by reason of their special con-temporaneity or timeliness: supernaturalness, interior-ness, and activeness. The Supernatural Quality o[ Obedience Perhaps no other quality of religious obedience seems to be suffering more today than that of its supernatural-hess. So many questions about and so many defections from the religious life, especially among older reli-gious, would seem to hinge on the motive because of which they live the religious life. This must be, funda-mentally at least, supernatural. And if religious obedi-ence is to be supernatural, then subjects must learn to obey, to carry out the tasks to which they are assigned and the rules and constitutions because these things represent for them the will of God, at least permissive, here and now. The pleasure or 'lack of pleasure that such an action gives or might give should not be the con-trolling motive; nor should the agreeableness or disagree-ableness of the person giving the command or making the decision; nor should the hope of some reward or advancement or fear of reprisal or anything such. The controlling motive in religious obedience should be: God has asked me to do this. The decisive reason for which we owe obedience to religious superiors is the authority invested in them by God. This authority is a supernatural qual!ty and is distinct from all qualities that may adorn a superior in the natural order. In.a sense it belongs t6 the order of charisms and is conferred by God through proper channels for the good of the religious commu-nity. It belongs to the order of faith both for the superior who needs more than the light of reason to recognize it and for the subject who comes to see God in the supe-rior by calling on his faith and who can come to tr6at the superior as God's representative only with the help of filial piety that is entirely supernatural.TM It belongs also to the order of love. For religious are urged to constantly strive to look beyond their superiors, direct-ing their obedience to the source of all authority, God, and to do so out of love and for love. As we have seen, the purpose or aim of obedience is to promote the growth of love; and love, in turn, is intended to enliven obedience and make it more fruitful. As our love grows deeper, so will our obedience to the great benefit of our own interior lives and to the incalculable profit of those who come under our personal influence. The true liberty ~6 Belanger, "Donum Dei" $, pp. 122-3. ÷ ÷ ÷ Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 195~ 4. 4. 4. C. .4. $chleck, C.S,C. REV1EWFOR RELIGIOUS 196 of a religious consists not in initiative and responsibil-ity nor in terms of independence, at least primarily; it consists in perfect dependence on God, a dependence that is voluntary and cultivated as actively as possi-ble. For who is less a slave than a will that is truly mas-ter of the lower appetites and that has once and for all given itself entirely to the supreme good. It is Charles de Foucauld who once remarked that Christ took the lowest place in such a way that no one can ever take it from Him. This desire to be forgotten and unknown in loving imitation of the rejected Christ still represents the highest reach of Christian asceticism. There is no question, of course, of shrinking from great apostolic works or wasting one's talents. We are speaking of an attitude, a willingness to be content with the task as-signed, and of preference for the lower or less esteemed, when God's glory would permit such a choice.77 This is the ideal motivation to be looked for in regard to religious obedience. Yet if we are to believe reports and experience, it is much more difficult to achieve today than before.7s We seem to be faced with an acceptance of submission that is based on or conceived of in terms of sensitive interpersonal relationships, of liberties and rights to be safeguarded, of discussions with superiors, of private initiatives to be exercised, and, in the, case of some at least, of necessary resistance" to legitimately ex-ercised authority--a kind of religious sit-in. Again we find that there is a good deal of insecurity in the present generation of young people coming to us, even though this may be masked by an apparent confidence and poise, even forwardness. This insecurity, plus the brain-washing they receive through the various media of com-munication, tends to impel them to seek status. This is not always, perhaps not even usually, merely a selfish want. It is a genuine need for a position of security that will assure them of the esteem and support 0f others. Young religious, especially in communities in which counseling or nursing or teaching or other professional work is generally done, manifest considerable anxiety about possible prospects of being assigned to advanced study and also notable frustration and depression if they are passed over. Despite the democratic myth, status positions are a very prominent feature of our society. The only difference between now and before was that yesterday status was rigid; it was that into which you were born; today it is mobile, it is what you make it. Yet it is there as a frenetic push up and down some ladder reflecting insecurity and acting as a feedback to increase 7~ L. Bondy, C.S.B., "Donum Dei" 3, p. 153. ~ G. George, S.J., "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 82 ft. it.TM In the novitiate it may be piety--provided it is not too eccentric--whereas in the juniorate and later on it may be professional excellence even to the point of this becoming a kind of neurotic ambition. The real author-ity figures are the professors or teachers who replace the novice mistress or even juniorate mistress. And the area of competition and prestige shifts from spiritual competence and excellence to excellence in studies,s0 Again, we also find that after some years of profes-sional service in one or other of the apostolates of the community, the supernatural motivation has either not grown at all or has even notably regressed. And then obedience has become for such members only a trial, only a series of fetters and frustrations, so that psy-chologically they become convinced that the community and the religious life is more of a hindrance than a help not only professionally, but also spiritually, that is, in their striving after the perfection of love of God and neighbor. And we all know that there is nothing more painful than to see certain religious lose even the pri-mordial meaning and motivation of their vocation and forget the why of their presence in religious life and fall more and more into a state of regret for having entered and of irritation,sl In fact we can say that the really crucial moment of religious life comes some ten or fif-teen years after entrance, and it usually revolves on the question of obedience. The dream of perfect surrender if it was present earlier appears for what it really is, a daily cross even for the most holy. A less painful solu-tion than sanctity or defection is always at hand---the path of comfortable mediocrity. The problem is solved by simply lowering the ideal, often seeing it primarily or exclusively in terms of sociological and psychological terms and structures and solutions. The motives learned in the early years of formation lose their cogency, and they become an encumbrance rather than a help.s2 As a result of these problems brought about by the societal structure of today there is a growing tendency to feel that reasons must always be given a subject every-time she is asked to do something or given an assign-ment. And this is supported by the argument that only ~See V. Packard, The Status Seekers (New York: McKay, 1959), p. 253. so If this is not handled carefully by those in charge through constant education, formal and informal, intense inner conflict and confusion can result. The tensions in some community juniorates and scholasticates would bear out this idea of "value conflict." s~ Much of this is brought on by changes in outlook and by cer-tain crises considered in our treatment of virginity and to be men-tioned further on in this article. s~ Later on in the part on practical suggestions we shall see what can be done to forestall this occurrence. Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 197 4. c. ~. S~hled~, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS that authority is really strong which obtains consent and participation rather than mere compliance. To give orders is easy but to obtain commitment and intellec-tual and intelligent participation is a major challenge. It is an inescapable responsibility of authority and one which can easily be overlooked. If this principle is used within limits (and I think that it has been oftenS3), it is true and can be followed with-out harming the supernatural motivation of religious obedience. But to make this principle apply at all times and in all circumstances, and especially within the con-text of strict parliamentary procedure and democracy, would exceed its applicability and would indeed destroy the very nature of religious obedience. Every attempt to reduce the relationship between superior and subject to one of mere dialogue between the two, a dialogue in which the subject would not be really obliged to follow the decision, or one in which the subject would be always allowed--by the v.ery nature of the contract--to make his own choice, would destroy the whole notion of obedience and render the relationship between superior and subject within a religious context meaningless. As Plus XII mentioned in an address to a general congre-gation of the Society of Jesus in 1957: And those persons are straying far from the truth who consider that the teaching of the Letter (St. Ignatius' Letter on Obedience) is to be abandoned, and that in place of hierarchical and religious obedience there should be substituted a certain "democratic" equality which would permit the subject to discuss with his superior until agreement between them is reached.~' It is true that where one carries out a command or obeys a constitution or rule which he thoroughly under-stands and with which he is heartily in agreement, there is no question of disobedience. But neither is there necessarily an act of the virtue of obedience. It is quite possible that the subject does what she is given to do from motives that are simply natural or human. And this particularly if training along the lines~.of supernat-ural obedience has never been insisted on. The habit of always giving the reasons for obedience or of point-ing out the reasonableness of the command or assignment given could easily cause a psychological stance that would make the reasonableness of the command and the fact that we both agree on this a condition for obey-ing. Then the virtue has been dethroned, and the per-son could be placed in a precarious vocational situation ~This is used well by A. Greeley, "Fraternal Authority," pp. 562-5. ~ The States of Per]ection, p. 295. This is "selective obedience" at its worst. See C. Davis, "A Catholic Obedience," America, Novem-ber 7, 1964. as far as perseverance is concerned. For there are and there will always undoubtedly be situations in religion when a person will come under a superior who does not wish to or who cannot always give reasons or point out the reasonableness of something which has to be done. For sometimes, to point out the reasons would mean the violation of a secret (the reputation of another member of the community) entrusted to a superior only in virtue of her office, and perhaps after much prayer and reflec-tion, on the part of a subject. I am not saying that reasons should not be given and even frequently, perhaps. For supernatural obedience to really take effect, the formation of the natural on all levels (and not just will-power formation) must also be present. Candidates of 17-18-19-20 are in full adoles-cent development. They are products of today and the societal structures of today; and there is nothing to be gained by closing our eyes to what they are or what they come from, all that I have-mentioned above, demo-cratic environment, a milieu of status-striving, an at-mosphere of constant questioning, and striving for inde-pendence. In fact, we can even ask ourselves seriously whether or not the cultural determinants in the United States today do not make it much more difficult for the majority of young religious to ever arrive at real ex-cellence in the supernatural practice of obedience. At least it is more difficult to arrive there. And superiors and those in training programs must accept this fact.s5 Thus it is very useful and necessary to give specific rea-sons for which things are done to facilitate obedience in the subject (to enlighten their minds before they act), to increase maturity, and even to prevent criticism. Thus the natural good and the spiritual good of the subjects dspecially in the very early training years would dictate that such a policy could and should be followed. But as the theology and meaning of religious obedience is ex-plained to them, occasions, not artificial or contrived but natural and arising out of circumstances, should be given to subjects when they will not be given the rea-sons why they are asked to do this or that. These of course should be given according to the capacity of each subject. This grad~4al training will most likely be much slower today. What we regard as alarming and perhaps a symptom of decline in regard to religious motivation and the nature of the young girl is a retarded appearance of a rather normal adolescence crisis centering around the struggle for independence from authority. Likewise in the case of older religious passing through an obedience crisis (usually around the mid-thirties), you s~ G. George, S.J., "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 82-$; L. Bondy, ibid., pp. 151-2. 4- 4- 4- Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 ]99 4- REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS will find pressures making it extremely difficult for them to'respond in an ideal way. She must be helped through this to a deeper and more mature self-gift in and through obedience without sacrificing the essentials of the super-natural quality of obedience merely to keep peace in the family or keep a restless section of the community pacified. Thus the real danger in regard to the supernatural quality of obedience today lies not in the acceptance of the subjects as they are at various stages of personal and cultural development (for this is necessary), but in superiors not willing or a[raid to make the effort to lead them higher and [urther, to a more per[ect supernat-ural obedience as described above. Religious obedience like everything else that pertains to the order of grace is very ofte6 mysterious and demands a deep spirit of faith. Faith, however, is of things that are not seen, of things that lie beyond the grasp and comprehension of mere human reason. They pertaiia to another order of things, the supernatural order, the order of eternity or God in time, and consequently must remain mysterious. Not to train a religious gradually and in keeping with her capac.ity to live in this order would be to destroy the supernatural spi.rit that must lie at the very root of reli-gious obedience.8~ The In~erior Quality o[ Obedience A second quality that must characterize religious obedience and that stands in need of clarification today is its inter.iorness, For obedience to be truly interior, one that touches the very heart of man and not merely a mechanical exterior compliance with directives, it must touch both the will and the intellect. In fact, exterior obedience should be the crowning action of religious obedience embodying and giving visibility to the interior obedience of the will and the intellect. So often obedience of the will is badly misunderstood. It is taken as dying to self-will or as annihilating one's will. This is true if we speak of the specifically selfish in the will, its ill-regulated aspect, But in another and perhaps far more accurate sense obedience per[ects the will instead of suppressing it. It is not a passive virtue consisting in not-wanting. It is positive and active and is meant to consist in wanting as intensely as possible ~The greatest thinkers, often those who have personally suf-fered much from authority, have generally been its staunchest de-fenders and the most supernaturally obedient of men. Teilhard de Chardin i:ould write: "In spite of Rome's having its own r~asons for judging that in the present form my concept of Christianity may be premature or incomplete, I am resolved to remain a child of obedience." what God wants. And in this it finds its highest perfec-tion ~nd fulfillment. The will attains its perfection when it is in possession Of its object, which is the good; and the greater the good, the more is the will perfected. Since the divine will is the object of the human will in religious obedience, the human will is perfected in a supreme degree. In a sense, then, obedience of the will is meant to touch and fashion the whole heart so that a religious ever more fully obeys as life progresses, not through constraint but rather through a connatural in-clination or through that inclination which comes through the gradual growth of the virtue. Just as the eyes are instinctively attracted by beauty of sight and the ears by beauty or harmony of sound, so too the will of a re-ligious should as the years pass by become more and more connaturally attracted by the good which it finds in obedience to God. A religious obeys or should obey because she recognizes the right of another to'command her and because she wishes this other person to have this right and because she loves the order that has been given. Only the supernatural virtue of obedience can bring about this love of authority and command in the life of a religious, and this is not an easy task. It is a constant struggle, but it is something that she should be aiming at from the moment that she embraces this life. And it will certainly grow in the religious who co-operates with all the graces given her in this regard. Obedience so understood does not consist in con-straint, It is rather a free act which alone has full value before God. And it is a kind of sacramental embodiment of the stance of our Lord: ,I lay down my life; no one can rob me of it; for I lay it down of my own accord." 87 In fact we might note that it is to facilitate this obedi-ence in freedom that in nearly all communities the rules and constitutions do not of themselves oblige under pain of sin. It is with this object in view, to draw' out,of subjects a free and voluntary obedience, that most supe-riors today prefer to request rather than to issue strict commands.88 When we come to the other side of interior obedience, obedience o[ the intellect, we touch on a problem that can easily present extreme difficulties both for subjects and for superiors. We have often heard it said that for obedience to be perfect it demands the submission of one's judgment as well as of one's will. This has to be understood carefully, however, Often it is understood to mean that the religious is forced to abdicate her judg-ment and the normal exercise of her intellect. Yet when + + 4- Obedience 8*Jn 10:17-8. ss R. Morency, S.J., "Donum Dei" 3, pp. 16~-5. VOLUME 25, 1966 4. C. A. $chleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS correctly understood, religious obedience, just as it re-spects the normal orientation of the will, also respects the normal orientation of the intellect. What religious obedience demands is that we submit to others, the rules and constitutions and legitimate authority, our prac-tical judgment at all times, save where an obviously sinful action is prescribed. It also requires that we sub-mit our speculative judgment when this is possible. I say "when this is possible" because what is sacrificed by religious obedience is our speculative judgment. But if there happens to be an instance in which the judgment to be made is not ours to make but is dictated by norms or laws or principles extrinsic to us (and well-qualified norms), then we cannot sacrifice our judgment nor do we have the right to sacrifice it because the judgment in this case is really not ours to give. Such would be the case in the following rather obvious examples: two plus two equals five, or square pegs are best put into round holes. Our speculative judgment could not pos-sibly make us accept these judgments simply because they are not ours to give. They are dictated by norms extrinsic and objective to ourselves which we cannot change and have no right to change. Thus obedience of the judgment does not consist in our bowing before every decision of superiors without judgment of any kind. Quite the opposite. Obedience of the judgment requires the exercise and the use of one's judgment. Nor does obedience of the judgment de-mand that we think the same as our superior thinks or that we judge to be most perfect in itself all that the superior commands, speculatively speaking. The supe-rior is not infallible and can make mistakes. She can at times act imprudently and even unjustly,s° This difficulty, while perhaps rarer in the past because often superiors were far better educated than their sub-jects, is one that is frequent in religious life today. Many subjects have as good, if not better, training in their fields of work than their superiors. We may have a superior of a community engaged in hospital work who ¯ has never been trained in the field. It is quite likely that the problems of the religious engaged in that work will not always be understood by her or handled in the wis-est and most prudent manner. Or we have a superior of a house of philosophy or theology who has spent his en-tire priestly life in parish work or in the field of mis-sionary endeavor. It is quite possible for such a person to make decisions which the subjects, let us say the fac-ulty members, know by their own experience of years of teaching not to be the most prudent or wise. To such Ibid., pp. 177, 162. judgments and decisions no subject can yield his or her speculative judgment simply because he or she does not possess the right or the ability to yield or to make this judgment conform to that of the one in charge. Obedience of judgment, then, does not demand that we canonize all the actions of superiors nor obey be-cause and to the extent that the command is reason-able as this is usually understood. It demands that she recognize this principle: "It does not belong to me to make the decision; it belongs to the superior." Thus a religious cannot regulate her own will or what she does by her own judgment but by the judgment of the su-perior since it is this judgment that she has taken as her rule of action in the practical here and.now situation. She sees in it the designs of God Himself directing her to the end which He has set up foi- her from all eternity. By obedience she vows to give up acting on and accord-ing to her own judgment independently of superiors, which is not the same as giving up the right to make a judgment or to form one. To give up this right would destroy the liberty and freedom and the voluntariness which is so essential in making religious obedience the holocaustal offering of one's will to God. For obedience is not simply a mechanical action on the part of a hu-man person. It is a most personal action and therefore should be freely accomplished. It is an action in which the subject [reely adjusts her will to that of the superior. TO obey without having' moral certitude that such an act is licit is immoral simply because a person is respon-sible for all that she accomplishes, even of that which she does out of obedience. Here, of course, we must be cautious. To establish that an order is legitimate does not take long reflection. In fact, if there is long reflec-tion about the legitimacy of a command, it is usually a sign that the person is psychologically disturbed or hy-percritical and is not an appropriate instrument to de-termine if in the concrete an order is or is not legiti-mate. However, wherever there is question of mere opinion, then obedience will incline us to follow the opinion of the superior to the extent that this is possible. Often-times the position of the superior on something or other is somewhat doubtful, some reasons in favor of it, others opposed. In this case obedience of judgment asks that we consider rather the favorable reasons and be not too strongly attached to the possible objections, that is, if we are to assure a more perfect agreement of will and of judgment. This case often happens in regard to the more practical cases of action, assignments, and so forth, where the superior has a much wider acquaintance with all the factors involved in the decision, ,factors which 4- 4- 4- Obedience VOLUME 25, 1966 2O3 ÷ C. A. $chleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS subjects cannot see because of their limited vision, fac-tors which affect individuals of the same or different houses or even persons outside the commfinity. Very of-ten a superior is faced with the alternative of the lesser of two evils. We should note that a truly obedient reli-gious wishes that the superior should be right and is always ready to renounce her own will and opinion with ease insofar as it is simply her own. This as we realize demands intense virtue, but it is a goal which every religious should be working to reach. As for "blind" obedience it must not be thought to consist in seeing nothing; rather it consists in submitting one's practical judgment to that of the superior even when the action commanded or the decision indicated to be followed is truly unreasonable from the merely human point of view. For the religious then obeys not becau

Issue 21.5 of the Review for Religious, 1962. ; JOHN XXIII M editatiOnS on the Rosary [On September 29, 1961, Pope John XXIII. issued the apos-tolic epistle, II religioso convegno, in which he exhorted the faithful.to recite the Rosary for the intention of peace among nations,Later on April 28, 1962, the Holy Father issued another apostolic epistle, Oecumenicum Conciliurn, urging the saying of the Rosary for the success of Vatican Council II. To assis~ the faithful in a fruitful saying of the Rosary, His Holiness com-posed a set of meditations on each mystery of'the Rosary: These are here translated from the original Italian text as given in Discorsi, Messaggi, Colloqui del Santo Padre Giovanni XXIII, v. 3 (Vatican City: Vatican Polyglot Press, 1962), pages 762- 72.] THE JOYFUL MYSTERIES The Annunciation This is the first luminous point of contact between heaven and earth; ,.it is the first of the greatest events in the history of the ages. In this mystery the Son of God, the Word of the Father through whom "all things were made". (Jn 1:3) in this order of creation, takes on a human nature; He becomes man in order that He might be the Redeemer and the Savior of man andof all humanity. Mary Immaculate, most beautiful and most fragrant flower of all creation, by her "Behold the handmaid of the Lord" (Lk 2:38) given in reply to the words of the angel, accepts the honor of divine motherhood; and at that instant it is fulfilled in her. We who were once born with our father Adam as adopted ~hildren of God and who then fell from this grace are now today brothers, adopted sons of the Father, because we have. been re-stored to our adoption by the redemption which begins with this event. At the foot of the cross we shall be sons of Mary together with Christ conceived by her at this moment. From this event on she will be the Mother of God and our Mother. + + + T~e Rosary VOLUME 21, 1962 397 0 the sublimity and the tenderness of this first mys-teryl As we reflect on this scene, our principal and constant duty is to thank the Lord because He has deigned to come to save us and because He has become man and our human brother. He is associated with us in the state of sonhood to the woman who at the foot of the cross will make us adopted sons. Since We are adopted sons of His heavenly Father, Fie has willed that we should also be children of the same Mother. In the contemplation of this first scene, besides the habitual thought of gratitude, our prayer should be di-rected towards a real and sincere effort to become hum-ble, pure, and actively charitable, for all these are virtues of which the Blessed Virgin gives us a shining example. The Visitation JOHN XXIH REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 398 What graciousness and sweetness is to be found in this three-month visit of Mary with her beloved cousinl Both women bear a motherhood that will soon come to term. The motherhood of the Virgin Mary is the most sacred imaginable. A sweet harmony is to be found in the can-ticles that the two interchange with each other: on the one hand, "Blessed art thou amongst women" (Lk 1:42), and on the other, "The Lord has regarded the lowliness of his handmaid; all generations shall call me blessed" (Lk 1:48). The event .that happens here at Ain-Karim on the hill-top of 'Epron showers a light, both human and heavenly, on the bonds that unite Christian' families which have been formed by the ancient school of the holy Rosary: the Rosary recited every evening in the intimate circle of the home; the Rosary recited not by one or a hundred or a thousand families, but by all families; the Rosary recited in all places of the earth where man "suffers, struggles, and prays" (A. Manzoni, La Pentecoste, v. 6); the Rosary re-cited by those called by inspiration from on high to the priesthood, or to missionary work, or to a longed-for apostolate; the Rosary recited by all those who are called by motives, legitimate as well as pressing, to labor, to business, to military service, to study, to teaching, to what-ever occupation. During the saying of the Hail Marys of-this mystery, it is good to join ourselves to the many persons united to. us by blood, by family, and by every bond that sanctifies and therefore strengthens the feeling of love which binds us to those we particularly love: parents and children, broth-ers and relatives, fellow countrymen, fellow citizens~ All this should be done for the purpose of sustaining, increas-ing, and illuminating the presence of that universal char- ity the exercise of which is the profoundest and highest joy of this life. The Birth oI Our Lord At the time appointed by the laws of the human nature He has assumed, the Word of God madff ~th °comes forth from the holy tabernacle of the immaculate womb of Mary. His first appearance in the world is in a man-ger where animals feed and where everything is. silence, poverty, simplicity, innocence. The voices of angels re-sound in the heavens as they announce the peace which the new-born Infant brings to the world. The first wor-shipers are Mary His Mother and Joseph His foster Father; afterwards humble shepherds come from the hill-side, invited by angelic voices. Later will come.a caravan of nobler rank led by a star; they will offer precious gifts pregnant with hidden meaning: In this night of Bethle-hem everything speaks in a language understandable by all. In this mystery, there should be no one who does not bend his knee in adoration before this crib, no one who does not gaze at the eyes of the divine Infant as they look into the distance as though viewing all the peoples of the earth passing one after another before His presence. He recognizes them all, knows them all, and smilingly greets them all: Jews, Romans, Greeks, ,Chinese, Indians, the peoples of Africa, the peoples of every region of the universe, of every epoch of history, it makes no difference if the regions be far distant, solitary, remote, secret, and unexplored; nor does it matter whether the epoch is past, present, or future. During the praying of this decade the Holy Father likes to recommend to the new-born Jesus the uncount-able number of babies of all the peoples of the earth who in the preceding twenty-four hours have come to the light of day everywhere on the face of the earth. All of them, whether they will be baptized or not, belong by right to Him, to this Babe born in Bethlehem. They are His brothers, called to a lordship .that is the,highest and gentlest in the heart of man and in the history of the world. It is a lordship that alone is worthy of God and of men, a lordship of light and of peace; it is the "kingdom" we pray for in the Our Father. The Presentation in the Temple Christ, supported by the arms of His mother, is offered to the priest; at the same instant He holds out His own armsin front of Him: it is the meeting of the two Testa-ments. There is an advance here towards "the light and revelation of the Gentiles" (Lk 2:32), to Him who is the splendor of the Chosen People, the Son of Mary, Present ÷ The Rosary VOLUME 21, 1962 399 ÷ ÷ ÷ JOHN XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 400 also is Joseph who equally shares in the presentation rites prescribed by the Law. In a different but analogous way this episode is con-tinued and perpetuated in the Church; while we recite this decade how good it is to contemplate the field grow-ing to harvest: "Lift up your eyes to the fields already white with the harvest" (Jn 4.:35). This harvest consists of the joyful hopes of the priesthood and of co-workers of the priesthood; there are many of these in the kihgdom of God and yet never enough, They are the youths in semi-naries, in religious houses, in missionary institutes; and because all Christians are called to be apostles, they are also in Catholic universities; they are all those other hopes of the future apostolate inseparable from the laity. It is an apostolate which grows in spite of difficulties and of opposition; it enters even .into nations suffering from per-secution; it offers and will never cease to offer a spectacle so consoling that it calls forth words of joyful admira-tion. "The light and revelation of the Gentiles".(Lk 2:32); the glory of the Chosen People. The Finding in the Temple Christ is now twelve years old. Mary and Joseph ac-company Him to Jerusalem for the prescribed worship. Unexpectedly He disappears, unseen by their vigilant and loving eyes. Their anguish is great and for three days they search for Him in vain. Sorrow is succeeded by joy when they find Him in the area around the Temple, hold-ing discussions with the doctors of the Law. How signifi-cant and detailed are the words With which St. Luke de-scribes the scene: "They find him in the midst of the doctors, listening to them and questioning them" (Lk 2:46). At that time a meeting such as this had a deep sig-nificance: knowledge~ wisdom, guidance of practical life in the light of the .Old.Testament. Such at every moment of time is the task of human in-telligence: to collect the thought of the ages, to transmit sound teaching, firmly, and humbly to lift the gaze of scientific investigation to the future, for we all die one after the other and we go to God; humanity journeys to-wards the future. Both on the level of supernatural and natural knowl-edge, Christ is never absent; He is always found there at His place: "One only is your mfister, Chrisi" (Mt 23:10). This fifth decade, the last of the joyful mysteries, should be considered a specially beneficial invocation for all those called by God through the gifts of nature, the cir-cumstances of life, the wishes of superiors, to the service of truth. Whether they are engaged in research or in teaching, whether they diffuse knowledge long attained!. or new techniques, whether they write books or are con-cerned with audiovisual projects; all of them are invited to imitate Jesus. They are the intellectuals, professional men, journalists. All of these, especially journalists since they are characterized by the daily duty of honoring truth, should communicate the truth with religious fidelity, with the utmost prudence, and without fantastic distortion or falsification. Let us pray for all of these, whether they be priests or lay persons; let us pray that they be able to listen, to the truth--and for this ther~ is needed great purity of heart. Let them learn to understand the truth---and for this great humility of mind is required. Let them be able to defend the truth--and for this is required that which was the strength of Christ and of the saints, obedience. Only obedience secures peace and.victory. THE SORROWFUL MYSTERIES The Agony in the Garden The mind returns again and again to thescene of the Savior in the place and hour of His supreme abandon: "And his sweat became as drops of blood running down upon the ground" (Lk 22:44). It is an interior p~iin of the soul, the bitterness of an extreme loneliness, the fail-ing of an exhausted body. It is an agony ,that could be caused only by the Passion which.Jesus now sees not as distant or even as near, but as already present. The scene of Gethsemani gives us the strength and the courage to strain, our wills to accept even great suffering when that suffering is willed or permitted by God: "Not my will but thine be done" (Lk 22:42). These are words that both wound and heal; they teach us the glowing ardor that can and should be reached by the Christian who suffers together with the suffering Christ; they give us a certainty of the indescribable reward of the divine life that exists in us now through grace and will be in us later through glory. In the present mystery the particular intention that should be considered is the "solicitude for all the Churches" (2 Cor 2:28), the anxiety that troubles the mind as the wind disturbed the lake of Genesareth: "The wind was against them" (Mt 14:24). This is the object of the daily prayer of the Holy Father: the anxiety of the most fearful hours of his pastoral ministry; the anxiety of the Church which suffers with him throughout the world, while at the same time he suffers with the Church present and suffering in him; the anxiety of souls and of entire portions of the flock of Christ that are subjected to perse-cution against the freedom to believe, to think, and to live. "Who is weak, and I am not alsoweak?" (2 Cor I 1:29). + + + The Rosary VOLUME 21, 196Z 401 JOHN XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 402 This sharing in the sorrows of the brethren, this suffer-ing with those who suffer, this weeping with those who weep (Rom 12:15) is a merciful blessing for the entire Church. Is not this the communion of saints that each and all possess in common the Blood of Christ, the love of the saints and of the virtuous, and, alas, our sin and our in-firmity? We should continually reflect on this communion which is a union and, as Christ said, a kind of unity: "That they may be one" (Jn 17:22). The cross of our Lord not only ennobles us, it draws souls: "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all things to myself" (Jn 12:32). The Scourging This mystery recalls to our minds the merciless lashing of the immaculate and holy.Body of Christ. Human na-ture is composed of body and soul. The body endures humiliating temptations, while the will in its weakness can easily be carried away. In this mystery, then, is to be found a reminder of that salutary penance which implies and involves the true well-being of man, a well-being which comprehends bodily welfare and spiritual salvation. The teaching that comes from this mystery is important for all. We are not called to a bloody martyrdom but to the constant, discipline and daily mortification of our pas-sions. This path is a true way of the cross, daily, inevitable, necessary; at times it can become heroic in its demands. By it we gradually arrive at an ever greater resemblance to Christ, at a participation in His merits, at a greater cleansing of every fault through His immaculate Blood. We never arrive at this by way of easy enthusiasm or by way of useless and ineffective extravagance. His Mother, stricken with sorrow, sees Him after His scourging; her affliction is overwhelming. How many mothers desire to see their children grow perfect as they initiate them into the discipline of a good training and of a sound life; yet instead they must mourn the disap-pearance of their hopes, saddened because so much care has led to nothing. The Hail Marys of this mystery, then, will ask of the Lord the gift of purity for the family, for society, and espe-cially for young people since they are most exposed to the seductions of the senses. They will also plead for strength of character and for loyalty in the face of all trials tO teaching already received and to resolutions previously made. The Crowning with Thorns The contemplation of this mystery is especially con-cerned with those who bear the burdensome responsibility of the direction of social life; it is the mystery of those whoi govern, who make laws, and. who judge. On the head of this King, there is a cross of thorns. So also on their .heads there will be a crown; it is a crown that undeniably shines with the glow of dignity and distinction; it is a glow that comes from an authority that comes from God and is therefore divine. Yet interwbven into this crown are things that press down, that pierce, that bring perplexity, that tempt to bitterness; it is in brief a crown of thorns and of worry; and it is this even aside from the sorrow caused by the ill will and faults of men, which is a sorrow all the more keen as one loves them and has the duty of representing to them the Father who is in heaven. Another useful application o~ the mystery would be to think of the serious responsibilities of those who have re-ceived greater talents and hence are bound to bring forth fruit in proportionate measure by means of a persevering exercise of their faculties and of their intelligence. The service of thought, the duty of those so endowed to act as a light and a guide to others, should be carried out pa-tiently,, while temptations of pride, of egoism, and of de-structive separation are avoided. The Carrying of the Cross Human life is a long and burdensome pilgrimage; it is an upward journey over the rocky ascents that are marked to be the lot of all men. In the present mystery Christ represents the human race. If each man did not pos-sess his own cross, sooner or later he would fall by the way-side, tempted by egoism or by indifference. By contemplating Christ as He climbs up Calvary, we learn--more through the heart than the mind--to em-brace and to kiss the cross, to carry it with generosity and even with joy according to the words of the Imitation of Christ: "In the cross there is salvation; in the cross there is life; in the cross there is protection from our enemies and a pouring forth of a heavenly sweetness" (Book l, Chapter 12:2). And should not our prayer extend also to Mary who in her sorrow follows Christ in a spirit of intimate participa-tion in His merits and in His sorrows? This mystery should bring before our eyes the immense scene.of those in tribulation: orphans, the aged, the sick, prisoners, the weak, refugees. For all of these let us ask for strength and the consolation that only hope can give. Let us repeat tenderly and with the hidden interior tears of the soul: "O cross, hail, our only hope" (Vesper Hymn of Passion Sunday). The Crucifixion "Life and death meet in a wondrous battle" (Sequence of the Easter Mass); life and death are the two significant The Rosary VOLUME 21, 1962 4O3 and decisive aspects of the sacrifice of Christ. From Bethle-hem's smile-~one such as is found in all the sons of men at their first appearance on this earth--to Calvary's last breath and gasp which gathers into one all our sorrows in order to sanctify them and which expiates our sins in or-der to blot them out; this is the life of Christ on earth among us. And Mary stands near the cross as she once stood near the Babe of Bethlehem. Let us pray to her, our Mother, that she may pray for us "now and at the hour of our death." In this mystery we can see outlined the mystery of those who will never acknowledge the Blood which has been poured forth for them by'the Son of God. It is the mystery especially of obstinate sinners, of the unbelieving, of those who receive and then reject the light of the gospel. Such thoughts cause prayer to break forth in one immense sigh, in one burst of grief-stricken reparation in a worldwide view of the apostolate. We beg wholeheartedly that the Precious Blood poured forth for all men may finally give to all men salvation and conversion and that the Blood of Christ may give to all a pledge and a token of life eternal. THE GLORIOUS MYSTERIES + + + JOHN XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The Resurrection This is .the mystery of death confronted and defeated. The Resurrection marks the definitive triumph of Christ and it is at the same time the assurance of the triumph of the Catholic Church over adversities and persecutions past and present. "Christ, Lord of glory; Christ, Prince of na-tions; Christ, King of kings." It is good to recall that the first appearance of the risen Christ was to the women who had been close to Him during His humble life and who remained close to Him even on Calvary. In the splendor of this mystery the gaze of our faith goes out to the living souls now united with the risen Christ, the souls of those dearest to us, the souls of those who were close to us and with whom we shared the anguishes of life. In the light of the Resurrection of.Christ there rises up in our hearts the remembrance of our dead. Remembered by us and aided by the sacrifice of the crucified and risen Lord, they still share in that better life of ours which is prayer and which is Christ. It is not without reason that the Eastern liturgy con-cludes the funeral rite with an Alleluia for all the dead. Let us ask for the dead the light of an eternal resting place while at the same time our thoughts are directed to the resurrection of our own mortal remains: "I await the resurrection of the dead." To be able to await, to place one's continual trust in the promise of that of which the Resurrection of Christ is a sure pledge--this is a foretaste of heaven. The .Ascension In this scene let us contemplate the,consummation and final fulfillment of theprortiises of Christ.~It is. His' re-sponse to our .longing for paradise. His final return to the Father from whom He had descended to us in the world gives us assurance that He has prepared a place for us: "I go to prepare a place for you" (Jn 14:2). This mystery, above all others, presents itself as a light and a guide to those souls who strive to follow their proper vocations. This is the background of that spiritual ac-tivity and ardor that contin.ually burn in the hearts of priestswho are not held down and distracted by the goods of this earth but seek only to open to themselves and to others the ways that lead to sanctity and perfection. This is that level of grace to which one and all must come; priests, religious, missionaries, laypersons devoted to-God and the Church, souls that are the good odor of Christ (2 Cor.2:15). Where such are, Christ is felt to be near; and they already live in a continual union with the life of heaven. This mystery teaches and urges us not to allow ourselves to be held back by that which burdens and weighs down the soul, but to abandon ourselves to the will of the Lord who draws us upwards. The arms of Christ, .as He returns to His Father at His Ascension¯ into heaven, are extended in blessing on the Apostles and on all those who follow them in their belief in Him. In the hearts of such there is a calm and serene certainty of a final meeting with Him and with all the saved in the realm of eternal happiness. The Descent of the Holy Spirit At the Last Supper the Apostles received the promise of the Spirit; later in the Cenacle, with Christ gone but Mary present, they receive Him as the supreme gift of Christ; what else indeed could the Spirit of Christ be? And He is the Strengthener and the Vivifier of souls. The Holy Spirit continues to pour forth His grace on and in the Church day by day;.centuries and peoples belong tothe Spiri~ and to the Church. The triumphs of the Church are not al-ways apparent externally; but they are always there, full of surprises and marvels~ The Hail Marys of this mystery are directed towards a special intention in this year of fervor as we see the pilgrim Church plan and prepare an ecumenical council. The council is to be a new Pentecost Of faith, of the apostolate, and of extraordinary graces for the well-being of men and the peace of the entire world. Mary, the Mother of Christ The Rosary VOLUME 2I, ~.962 405 ÷ ÷ JOHN XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 406 and our own living Mother, is with the Apostles in the Cenacle at Pentecost. Let us ever remain close to her through the "Rosary during this year. Our prayers united with hers will effect once more the ancient event of Pente-cost; it will be the rise of a new day, the dawn of new ac-tivi. ty for the Church as she grows holier and more catholic in these our times. The Assumption The lovely image of Mary becomes glowing and bril-liant in this greatest of exaltations that a creature may have. How full of grace, of sweetness, and of solemnity is the dormition of Mary as the Christians of the East love " to think about it. She lies there in the quiet sleep of death; Christ stands near her, holds her to His Heart as though the soul of Mary were an infant; thus is symbolized the wonder of Mary's immediate resurrection and glorifica-tion. The Christians of the West, on the other hand, prefer to raise their eyes and their hearts to follow Mary as she is assumed body and soul into the eternal kingdoms. It is in this way that our greatest artists have represented her in her incomparable beauty. Let us too follow her in this way; let us allow ourselves to be carried away with her amid the angelic procession. On days of sorrow this scene is a source of consolation and fidelity for privileged souls--and we. can all be such if we respond to grace--whom God silently prepares for the greatest of triumphs, that of sainthood. The mystery of the Assumption makes the thought of death, including our own, familiar to us; it gives us the light of a serene abandon of ourselves, for it familiarizes and accustoms us to the thought that, as we would desire, the Lord will be near us in our death agony to gather into His hands our immortal souls. May your favor be always with us, 0 immaculate Virginl The Coronation of Mary This is the synthesis of the entire Rosary which thus ends in joy and in glory. The great theme that opened .with the Annunciation of the angel to Mary has passed like a thread of fire and light through each of the mysteries; it is the eternal plan of God for our salvation. It has been imaged in many scenes; it has been present in all the mysteries up to now; and now it ends with God in the splendor of heaven. The glory of Mary, the Mother of Christ and our Mother, shines in the splendor of the most august Trinity and is dazzlingly reflected in holy Church in all her states: triumphant in heaven, suffering in the confident expec-tation that is Purgatory, militant on earth. 0 Mary, pray with us, pray for us, as we know and feel you do. How real are the delights, how lofty the glory in the divine-human relationships of. affection, words, and life that the Rosary has given and continues to give to us. It softens our human afflictions; it is a foretaste of the peace of the other world; it is our hope fore'ternal life. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Rosary VOLUME 21, 1962 407 JOSEPH F. GALLEN, S.J. Practice of the Holy See ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, S.J., is professor of canon law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Mary-land. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS This article gives, from January 1, 1959, the contents of replies or rescripts of the Holy See to particular re-quests and the practical points of constitutions approved by the Holy See. The rescript or approval is always that of the Sacred Congregation of Religious unless otherwise indicated. Similar articles appeared in the REVtEW ~oR RELICXOUS, I0 (1951), 22--24; 11 (1952), 12--18, 69--74, 151-- 58; 12 (1953), 252--72, 285--90; 18 (1959), 77--85, 156--68, 214--24. We have also listed under each heading the is-sues of the REvmw FOR RELIGIOUS in which the same mat-ter had been at least generally explained. Such references will be useful and sometimes even necessary because the practice of the Holy See is not fixed and invariable in sev-eral of the matters contained in the article. Choir and lay nuns. In one order of nuns, the titles now in use are choir nuns and lay nuns. The latter are therefore no longer called lay sisters in this order. In the same order, the lay nuns have a vote in the conventual chapter but not in elections. REwv.w ~-oR P~V.L~CIOUS, 15 (1956), 266-67. Change of the religious habit. Several congregations of sisters simplified the religious habit to some degree. A monastery of nuns was permitted to change the white veil of the lay sisters to black on trial for ten years and provided it was certain that the chapter of the monastery consented to the change. A federation of nuns changed the habit of its extern sisters to conform completely to that of the choir nuns. In one order of nuns, it is no longer of obligation for the habit to be of wool and the lay nuns now wear the same habit as the choir nuns. In granting a request for a change in the habit to a congregation of sisters, the Sacred Congrega-tion stated: "However, even for temporary changes of this nature, this Sacred Congregation requires that the matter be referred to each and every superior and sister. If the majority of those qualified to vote are in favor of the change . " The Holy See is approving constitutions that contain the following article: "No substantial, per-manent, or general change in the color or form of the habit may be made without the permission of the Holy See." R~vIEw FOR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 80-81; 13 (1954), 298. Time of giving dowry (c: 547, ~§ 1'-3). Ina general revision of the constitutions of a congregation of sisters proposed to the Holy See, the article on this point was presented in the usual wording: "The dowry must be given to the congregation before the begihning of the noviceship, or at least its payment guaranteed in a man-ner recognized as valid indvil law," The Holy See added the following sentence: "The dowry may also be given in parts." The same article in another set of approved constitutions reads: "Each aspirant is obliged to bring a dowry . The dowry may also, for just reasons, be set up in installments or after the death of the parents, provision being made in the meantime for the payments of the an-nual interest." REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 3 (1944), 229-30. Length of postulancy (c. 539). The Holy See is approving articles of the following type: "The time prescribed for the postulancy is one year. For a just reason and with the advice of the council, the mother general may shorten or prolong this time, but not beyond six months in either case." Before they are admitted to the noviceship, the aspirants are to make a postulancy of ten months, which may be reduced to six months or extended to sixteen months by the mother general with the advice of her coun-cil." "Before being admitted to the noviceship, the as-pirants must spend nine months as postulants. The pro-vincial superior or the superior general, as. the case may be, may prolong this time but not beyond an additional six months; she may shorten it, but never beyond three months." REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 82; 11 (1952), 151-53; 13 (1954), 301; 3 (1944), 410. Two years of noviceship in monasteries and federations of nuns. One entire federation of nuns was permitted to change its noviceship from a duration of one to two years. Two monasteries of the federation already possessed this permission. A monastery of another order was granted the same duration of the noviceship on trial for five years, and several monasteries of still another order are request-ing a noviceship of two years. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 83-84; 13 (1954), 301. Dispensation from second year of noviceship. The Holy See dispensed from the sec-ond year of noviceship in favor of a-novice who had been professed of perpetual vows in another institute. REVIEW VOR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 84; 12 (1953), 260; 13 (1954), 301. Those who may admit to the profession of a novice in danger of death. The Holy See continues to approve the following article: "Even though she has not completed 4" 4" 4" Practice o] the Holy See VOLUME 21, 1962' 409 ÷ ÷ ÷ ]. F. Gallen, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 410 the time of her noviceship, a novice in danger of death may for the consolation of her soul be admitted to pro-fession by any superior, the mistress o/novices, and their delegates. " REVIEW EOR Ri~L*GIOUS, 18 (1959), 84--85; 15 (1956), 263-64; 1 (1942), 117-22. First profession out-side novitiate house (c. 574, § 1). Two congregations of sisters secured a dispensation for five years to have the first temporary profession outside the novitiate house, a third to do the same indefinitely in the chapel of the generalate, and four others to hold the reception and pro-fession ceremonies in a nearby parish church because of inadequate space in the novitiate chapel. REVIEW FOR LIG~OUS, 18 (1959), 156; 12 (1953), 264; 15 (1956), 222--24, Temporary prolession of l~ve years. Congregations of sis-ters continue to change from three to five years of tempo-rary vows. A prolongation of a five-year profession is limited to a year (c. 574, § 2), The Sacred Congregation does not insist on any determined division of the five-year duration, for example, out of fourteen approved changes, five congregations have five annual professions, two have three annual professions and one of two years, two have a profession of two years followed by one of three years, and five have a profession of three years followed by one of two years. REVIEW FOg RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 156-57; 16 (1957), 379-80; 15 (1956), 267; 12 (1953), 263-64; 13 (1954), 302-303. Abbreviation of constitutional duration of temporary profession. One congregation that has a pre-scribed temporary profession of six years was granted a dispensation to abbreviate this time by two years for an individual religious. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 12 (1953), 262--63; 19 (1960), 337--52. Reception o[ profession (c. 572, § I, 6°). Articles of the following type are approved and inserted into constitutions by the Holy See. "That it be received by the mother general or a sister delegated by her. Regional and local superiors and their legitimate substitutes are delegated by the constitutions to receive the renewal of ~'ows and with power also to subdelegate. They possess the same authority for the reception of other professions in the default of a sister expressly delegated by the mother general." REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 157--58; 16 (1957), 113; 8 (1949), 130--39. Renunciation o[ patrimony. In five dispensations for a sister of simple vows in a congregation to renounce her patrimony in [avor oI her congregation (c. 583, 1°), according to the printed and thus regular form of the rescript the dispen-sation was granted, "under the condition that the entire sum will be restored to the petitioner if for any reason whatever she leaves the congregation." This condition was not found in another dispensation in virtue of which the property was to be given to a brother and sister. RE-. VIEW fOR RELIGIOUS, 12 (1953), 257-59; 16 (1957), 311. No precedence in receiving Holy Communion. In one request for changes in the constitutions, the Holy See it-self added the following sentence: "No precedence is to be observed in approaching Holy Communion." REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 9 (1950), 149; 18 (1959), 162; ~5 (1956), 25; 3 (1944), 252--67, 268~70, 428; 1'1 (1952), 213;' 12 (1953), 147--50. Feast of our Lady of Mercy. Several communities of the Sisters of Mercy have obtained from the Sacred Congregation of Rites the faculty of celebrating the feast of our Lady of Mercy, September 24, as a feast of the I class, with. a proper Mass approved on May 30, 1955 for the Sisters of Mercy of the Australian Union, and with the faculty also of using it as a votive Mass. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 163; 12 (1953), 289--90. Obligation of the choral recitation of the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin by nuns. Authors commonly state that the obliga-tion of choral recitation is only under venial sin in the orders of nuns that are not obliged by their constitutions to the Divine Office but only to the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin. Some add that this is the Office recited by Visitandine nuns or give the Visitandine nuns as an ex-ample of the venial obligation cited above. Cf, De Carlo, ]us Religiosorum, n. 375, 8. In a rescript of October 26, 1959, the Sacred Congregation of Religious declared that the recitation of the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin, prescribed by the constitutions and spiritual directory of the Order of the Visitation of Holy Mary, is an obligation imposed upon the religious under venial and not under mortal sin. Change to the Short Breviar~ from the Little Office of the Blessed Virgih. This was granted on trial for one year to a congregation of sisters by the Sacred Congregation of Religious, on May 23, 1961, and to another congregation of sisters absolutely by the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith, on March 4, 1960. Articles approved on the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin. The Holy See approved the following arti-cles of constitutions on this Office: "The sisters shall re-cite daily Lauds, Vespers, and Compline of the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin, using an approved transla-tion in the vernacular." "In formal houses, on Sundays and on the principal feasts of the Blessed Virgin, they shall recite in common the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin." REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 20 (1961), 304--306; 18 (1959), 163; 9 (1950), 156; 6 (1947), 18--24; 2 (1943), 66, 406; 11 (1952), 44; 13 (1954), 129--30, 149--52, 299--300. Frequency o[ chapter of faults. The Holy See approved a requested change in the chapter of faults from once a week to once a month. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 13 (1954), 135; 7 (1948), 163--64. Indulgences. Privileged altar (cc. 916-18), A congregation of sisters obtained from the Sacred Penitentiary, Office on Indulgences, for seven 4- 4- 4. Practice o] the Holy See VOLUME 21, 1962 411 J. F. Gallen, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 412 years that the main altar of its motherhouse .be a privi-leged altar for the dead. For recitation of the Little OI~ice o[ the Blessed Virgin. The indulgences commonly granted are listed in the Raccolta, n. 318. A congregation of sisters secured from the same source the following indulgences to be gained under the usual conditions: (1) A plenary indulgence, if the sisters recite this entire Office, even though interruptedly, in the presence of the Blessed Sacra-ment solemnly exposed or ~eserved in the tabernacle: (2) A partial indulgence of five hundred days for every hour of this Office that they have recited with at least a con-trite heart before the Blessed Sacrament, as above, and even though they do not recite the complete Office be: fore the Blessed Sacrament. Rv.virw for RELXG~OUS, 15 (1956), 24. Papal blessing at the end of a retreat [or those not physically present. Through their cardinal protector, a congregation of sisters obtained from the Holy Father, John XXIII, a privilege that permits the sisters who are in the infirmary and cannot go to the chapel to gain the plenary indulgence attached to the papal blessing given at the close of a retreat by hearing this blessing imparted by the priest on the public address system. Montague ex-presses the common opinion on this point briefly and clearly: "It should be noted that this privilege of receiV: ing the blessing and indulgence over the radio is attached by positive decree only to the blessing given by the Pope 'Urbi et Orbi'; when the Apostolic Benediction is given by a bishop or priest, its benefits accrue only to those who are physically present to receive it." Problems in the Lit-urgy, 374. Cf. Bouscaren, Canon Law Digest, II, 231,227; Ephemerides Liturgicae, 53 (1939), 122-23; De Angelis, De Indulgentiis, nn~ 143-50; Heylen, Tractatus de Indul-gentiis, 274; Coronata, De Sacramentis, I, 525, note 5; Cappello, De Sacramentis, II, n. 678, who holds that physi-cal presence is not necessary; Regatillo, Interpretatio et Iurisprudentia Codicis Iuris Canonici, 366; Dizionario Di Teologia Morale, 154; Ferreres-Mondria, Compendium Theologiae Moralis, II, n. 753; De Herdt, Praxis Litur-gica, III, n. 294; De Amicis, Caeremoniale Parochorum, n. 386, 3. Common cloister. Absence beyond six months. In giv-ing permission for an absence beyond six months outside the houses of the institute because of ill health (c. 606, § 2), the Sacred Congregation is adding (1) the granting of "an appropriate dispensation from the rules incom-patible with the state of infirm health 0f the aforesaid sister," and (2) the injunction to superiors: "The perti-nent superiors shall take care that the sick sister is aided as much as possible by a thoughtful charity, especially with regard to spiritual matters, and that she be properly assisted." Permission given [or as long as necessary. The' petition stated: "Sister has been a. mental patient for sev-eral years, and the doctors have advised that she remain in this hospital." When granted the permission was not for any determined period but for as long as necessary. REVIEW fOR REr.IGIOUS, 15 (1956), 289--91; 18 (1959), 166. Admitting sisters o[ other institutes into tho refectory ol a congregation. "This Sacred Congregation hereby grants a general dispensation from the prescriptions of arti-cle., of your constitutions so that you may receive at table in your refectory all those sisters of other communi-ties whom you take into your juniorate." REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 15 (1956), 285--87. Papal cloister. Veil covering grille. The Holy See permitted the removal of the veil covering the grille in.the parlor of a monastery Of nuns for the visits of relatives and others at the discretion of the abbess; REVIEW for RELIGIOUS, 16 (1957), 40-41. Ad-mission .o[ instructors. One monastery of nuns was per-mitted for ten years to admit into papal cloister "quali-fied feminine instructors to train the nuns in such arts and crafts as are compatible with the life of enclosed nuns., for the time strictly necessary . ~' REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 16 (1957), 43-48. Entrance of extern sisters. One monastery of nuns received the faculty, in 1959, to permit the finally professed extern sisters to enter the enclosure (I) to take part in the community exercises in-sofar as, according to the judgment of the prioress, their duties on the outside permit; (2) for private retreats; (3) medical and dental examination and care; (4) sleep, when the prioress deems it expedient; to permit the tempo-rarily professed extern sisters to enter the enclosure for their renewals of vows and final profession; that these, the second-year novices, and postulants be permitted to enter (I) for novitiate exercises; (2) community exercises and sleep, according to the discretion of the prioress; (3) private retreats; and (4) medical and dental examination and care. REVIEW VO~ RELIGIOUS, 12 (1953), 289; 16 (1957), 47-48; 21 (1962), 1--9. General chapter. Ordinary and extraordinary. The Holy See is consistently defining an ordinary general chap-ter as the one that takes place at the expiration of the term of office of the superior general and on the vacancy of this office by reason of death, resignation, or deposi-tion, whereas an extraordinary general chapter is one held for any reason other than the election of a superior gen-eral. REVIEW VO~ RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 244; "1 (1942), 146. Anticipation or postponement of' general chapter: The Holy See approves an article of the following type: "The assembly of the ordinary general chapter at the end of the six-year term of office of the superior general may for weighty reasons and with the consent of the general coun-cil'be convened three months before or after the expira-÷ ÷ ÷ Practice oy the Holy See VOLUME 21, 1962 413 ~. F. Gallen, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 414 tion of the term." "The general chapter will be held three months before or after the expiration of the term of mother general." REvIEw for RELIGIOUS, 19 (1960), 302-303. Secretary general and treasurer general. The Holy See now demands that both of these be given ex officio membership in the general chapter and that the treasurer general~be elected by the general chapter. It permits the appointment of the secretary general by the superior general with the consent of the general council. By the law of one congregation, the secretary general and bursar general were not elected but appointed by the mother general with the Consent of her council. The)' also did not have ex officio membership in the general chapter. The mother general with the consent of her council requested that they be given such ex officio mem-bership. The request was granted only for the next gen. eral chapter, in which the matter was to be submitted to the discussion and vote of the general chapter and again proposed to the Sacred Congregation. In the case of another congregation, the Sacred Congregation refused a requested change of the constitutions from the election of the secretary general and bursar general by the general chapter to appointment by the mother general with the consent of her council for a term of three years each. In one definitive approval of constitutions, a gendral re-vision, and a request for particular changes in the con-stitutions, the secretary general and bursar general were given ex officio membership in the general chapter but they were to be appointed to their offices for a term of three years by the mother general with the consent of her council. The Sacred Congregation, in all three cases, approved such an appointment of the secretary general but changed the appointment to elefition by the general chapter in the case of the bursar general. The approved constitutions of a congregation that was made pontifical contain the following: "After the election of the superior general, the chapter shall proceed on the same day, or on the following, to the election of the four general coun-cilors and the general treasurer . As soon as convenient after the gene(al chapter, the superior general and her council meet for the appointment of the secretary gen-eral . The general council, the secretary general, and the treasurer general remain in office until the next elec-tive general chapter." REWEW for RELIGXOUS, 18 (1959), 218; 12 (1953), 286; 10 (1951), 190--91. Ex oficio member-ship of regional superiors. In some constitutions, these are given ex officio membership; in others, they are not. Local superior of the motherhouse. In one set of consti-tutions, this superior was given ex officio membership in the general chapter of an institute divided into provinces, Use of proposed revision for an approaching general chap.~ ter. One congregation of sisters asked permission to use for an approaching general chapter the section on the general chapter from a general revision of the constitu-tions that was being prepared. The Sacred Congregation granted this request only for the approaching general chapter and with the following changes. (1) This revision enacted that the elected delegates from the provinces were to be, "four from each large province which numbers at least two hundred sisters of perpetual vows; three from each small province; and two from the houses, immedi-ately subject to the mother general." The Sacred Congre-gation added the following clause to the last. part of this article: "provided the number of sisters in all these houses [those immediately subject to the mother general] is equal at least to the number of sisters in the smallest province." (2) The ex officio members of the general chapter were: the mother general, general councilors, secretary general, bursar general, former mothers general, and mothers pro-vincial. The Sacred Congregation added to this article: "Should there be a question of replacing an ex officio delegate to the general chapter, a sister shall be chosen by the mother general with the consent of her council, unless there is question of a provincial. A provincial will be replaced in the chapter by her assistant." This is the first case I have ever encountered of substitutes for the general officials in the constitutions of lay congregations, nor are such substitutes found in constitutions or general revisions of constitutions recently approved by the Holy See, Time of election of tellers and secretary of the general chapter. The Holy See approved the request of a congre-gation of sisters to transfer these elections from the day of the election of the mother general to the preliminary session of the general chapter on the preceding day. RE-VIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 21 (1962), 63-64; 17 (1958), 229-30. Definitive system of delegates must be approved by the general chapter. A mother general obtained permission to use one of the group systems of electing delegates .for an approaching general chapter, but the manner of elect-ing delegates in the future had to be discussed and voted for in the chapter and again proposed to the Sacred Con-gregation for approval. In another congregation, a gen-eral chapter voted to change the method of electing its delegates but left the determination of the method to the decision of the mother general and her council, who decided on the system and requested the approval of the Holy See. The Sacred Congregation replied that the sys-tem must be first discussed in the general chapter and put to the vote of the chapter. An analysis of the house system of electing delegates. In its petition for a change to a group system, one congregation gave an interesting analy-sis of the house system that it was then using, that is, a 4- 4- Practice o~ the Holy See VOLUME 21, 1962 4. .L F. Gallen, S.]. REVIEW EOR RELIGIOUS 416 larger house was one of twelve sisters of perpetual vows, and the smaller houses were combined into groups of at least twelve and not more than twenty-four sisters of per-petual vows. According to the analysis, four-fifths of the houses had fewer than twelve sisters of perpetual vows. Houses Sisters 15 of 12 or more sisters 324 29 of 6 to 12 sisters 251 31 of less than 6 sisters 108 75 683 There were 60 houses with less than 12 sisters; 26 houses had no representation in the chapter; but 3 houses with 4 sisters and 1 house with 6 sisters each had two represent-atives. This analysis i~ interesting, but it is of a house system whose basic norm is a house of twelve sisters of perpetual vows. The more common practice in the house system is to require only temporary vows, that is, to give the religious of temporary vows active voice. This would increase the number of larger houses, that is, of houses of twelve or more sisters professed of at least temporary vows; but it would be profitable to know to what degree the number of larger houses would be increased in this case. It is also to be recalled that the function of a general chapter is to treat of the more important affairs that con-cern the entire institute, not those of a particular house. Representation from all houses is not essential to such a purpose. GroUp systems are now receiving greater atten-tion, but some houses will always lack representation in any form of the group system. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 215--17, 307--308; 10 (1951), 189; 5 (1946), 264-65. Systems of electing delegates apprdved by the Holy See. Five groups according to horizontal precedence. In the following system, thirty-five delegates are elected from the houses. The advantage of this particular form is that there are only five groups, not ten or twelve as are usually found in this system. The smaller number of groups gives each sister a larger number to choose from in her group. The pertinent article is: ". The names comprising these lists shall be divided into five groups, arranged by seniority according to profession, the local superiors first, then non-superiors. These shall be formed by the general c6uncil and shall be arranged by distributing the names of the local superiors and then the non-superiors horizontally in parallel columns. Each sister shall vote for seven of the sisters, that is, three superiors, four non-superiors, in her own particular group, in such a way that thirty-five dele-gates, fifteen local superiors and twenty non-superiors, will be elected." The following system is similar but al-lows for an increase to ten groups: "The mother general, with the deliberative vote of her council, shall divide the congregation into five equal groups of perpetually pro-fessed sisters. The sisters shall be listed across the five columns in order of precedence. From this grouping, one superior in each column shall be chosen as a delegate. The non-superiors are then listed in rank across the col-umns. From these, two delegates from each column shall be chosen. Thus the total number of elected delegates shall be fifteen . The number of districts or columns may be increased to ten, in proportion to the number of religious in the congregation." REvmw VOR RELm~O.US, 18 (1959), 216~17; 20 (1961), 143; 21 (1962), 64. Graduated vote and exclusion of preferred position of local superiors. In the following system, no local superiors were ex officio members of the general chapter nor did any fractional part of the elected delegates have to be local superiors. ".All sisters perpetually professed ten years or more shall have passive voice. Delegates are elected by secret graduated vote. Each sister having active voice shall indi-cate, in order of her preference, the sisters having passive voice for whom she wishes to vote. Each ballot shall con-tain the space for twenty-five names. The name listed first will receive twenty-five points. The name listed second, twenty-four points, and so forth. Each sister having active voice shall vote for not more than twenty-five nor fewer than fifteen sisters having passive voice. Repetition of a name on this ballot renders the second listing invalid. Ballots containing more than twenty-five names or fewer than fifteen names are invalid." REVIEW ~'oR RELIGIOUS, 20 (1961), 379-80; 18 (1959), 217. Second balloting in votes mailed in to the higher superior. This large congregation is divided into regions. Five delegates are elected from each region. As in the preceding system, local superiors are given no preferred position¯ ". each of the sisters will indicate on a specially prepared ballot, provided by the regional superior, her choice of five of the eligible sisters. ¯. The mother general, in a meeting of the general coun-cil, shall open and examine the ballots . She shall then make known the results to the sisters in each of the houses ofeach region. (c) Any sister who has received a majority of the votes of the sisters of the region is declared elected. If among the other sisters voted for, none has received an absolute majority, the sisters of the interested region will vote once again, as be[ore~ [or as many delegates as did not receive such a majority in the first ballot. Upon receipt of the second ballots, the same procedure as in (c) shall be followed but a simple plurality suffices for elec-tion . The five sisters receiving the highest number of votes after those elected on the second ballot shall be re-garded as the substitute delegates for their region." Ter-ritorial groups in a large congregation. "The delegates + + + Practice o] the Holy See VOLUME 21, 1962 417 4, ~. F. Gallen, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS to the general chapter shall be elected by the sisters pro-fessed of perpetual vows, as indicated hereafter, divided into groups of not less than 75 and not more than 90 electors. The grouping of houses for the formation of elec-toral groups to choose delegates to the chapter shall be determined by the superior general, or as the case may ¯ be, the sister assistant, with the deliberative vote of her council. Each group shall choose by secret ballot two dele-gates, one a superior and one a non-superior. It shall moreover choose in like manner one superior and one non-superior as substitutes . On the appointed day the sisters of each group shall meet in a room of the desig-nated house. The senior superior shall preside . " Public voting in the chapter of alyairs. The Holy See continues to approve an article of the following type in the constitutions of congregations of sisters. "All these matters are decided by an absolute majority. If the votes are equal, the mother general has the right of deciding the matter after the third balloting. The voting is public. Any capitular, however, has the right of requesting a secret vote on a particular matter. Such a request shall be put to the public vote of the chapter. If a majority favor the request, the voting on the particular matter shall be secret." R~vIEw VOR RELIGIOUS, 17 (1958), 368-69; 21 (1962), 55-57. General councilor residing outside the motherhouse. The usual practice of the Holy See in approving consti-tutions permits two of the general councilors, with the exception of the assistant superior general, to live outside the motherhouse in a case of necessity, provided they can easily attend the meetings of the council and that they are always summoned to its sessions. The constitutions of one congregation command all general councilors, without exception, to live in the motherhouse. The Holy See gave a dispensation for three years from this law to permit a newly elected councilor to reside outside the motherhouse and thus remain as superior and principal of a high school in another city, provided that it was not a question of the assistant superior general, that the coun-cilor in question could easily attend all sessions of the council, and would be summoned to all of them. R~vi~w voR RELIGIOUS, 19 (1960), 130. ~General councilor also local superior. The general norm of the Holy See in ap-proving constitutions is that a general councilor should not have any other assignment that would prevent the proper fulfillment of the duties of a councilor. The con-stitutions of one congregation specifically forbid a general councilor to be also local superior. A local superior, in her fifth year of office, was elected a general councilor. The Holy See was petitioned and granted the dispensa-tion for her to complete the six years as local superior. The reason, given was that her supervision was necessary until the erection of a building then in process was com-pleted. REVIEW l~oR RELIGIOUS, 19 (1960), 130-31. Re-gional superiors are given delegated authorit)). It appears to be the present practice to give regional superiors only delegated, not ordinary, auth6rity. REVIEW Fo~'REILIGIOUS, 90 (1961), 63; 18 (1959),.946--47. Immediate third te~rn of local superior (c. 505). In granting a dispensation to per-mit an immediate third three-year term in th~ same house to a local superior, the Holy See added the condition, "provided there had been no reasonable complaints against her." REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 10 (1951), 197-98; 19 (1960), 301. First washing of purificators, palls, and corporals (c. 1306, § 2). At the request of the Minister General of the Order of Friars Minor, the Sacred Con-gregation of Rites renewed for five years on May 30, 1961 the faculty by which one brother or' sister sacristan in all houses of congregations of the Third Order of St. Francis may be designated to do the first washing of the purifica-tors, palls~ and corporals used inthe sacrifice of the Mass. Cf. Capobianco, Privilegia et Facultates Ordinis Fratrum Minorum, ed. 4, Romae: Antonianum, 1961, n. 353; RE-VIEW I~OR RELIGIOUS, 15 (1956), 101; 6 (1947), 374--75. Changes in constitutions. In two cases, changes requested in constitutions were approved on trial until the next general chapter. REVIEW FOR RXLIGIOUS, 19 (1960), 352- 63; 3 (1944), 68-69. 4- 4- 4- Practice ot the Holy See VOLUME 21~ 1962 419 RICHARD P. VAUGHAN, s.J. Obedience and Psychological Maturity ÷ ÷ ÷ Richard Vaughan, s.J. teaches at the University of San Francisco, San Fran-cisco 17, California. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Obedience is a virtue through which an individual promptly and agreeably follows the commandments of his superior.1 It involves the sacrificing of one's own will so as to follow the will of the superior who stands in the place of God. Since it is the will of another that must be followed, obedience may mean that a religious must put aside what he actually thinks better so as to do the wish of his superior. Since obedience is a virtue, it calls for an habitual way of responding. A religious does not become ol~edient simply because he has a desire to be obedient. He must learn to be obedient. He must learn to see God acting through the commands of his superior. It is only after a considerable effort and practice that he becomes an obedient religious. Training in Obedience The initial phases of training in obedience usually take place in the novitiate where the young religious is taught to obey the least command, of his superior. During this phase of his life, he follows a strict routine aiad he is taught that he must seek permission to deviate from this routine in the smallest way. If he fails to do so, he is told that he is failing in obedience. In some orders or congregations, it not infrequently happens that the practice of obedience relieves the young religious of the personal responsibilities which he pre-viously faced before entering the religious life. He or she learns that the obedient religious is one who follows the command of the superior in his or her every action. This practice can eliminate all need of making decisions of any importance. Were the same seminarian or sister still living outside the religious life, he or she might well be facing the responsibilities of financing a college edu-cation or even of caring for a growing family. In the re- St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, 2-2, q.104, a.2. ligious life such responsibilities are removed. The re-ligious finds that all his needs are cared for. All that is asked of him is that he be prompt and generous in follow-ing commands. In many ways he is treated as a child and may find a certain contentment in such treatment. The question, therefore, present~ itself: "Is ~he praqtice of obedience at odds with full personality growth? Can a religious practice obedience and still become a mature individual?" Meaning of Obedience To answer this question one needs to consider what is the nature of true obedience and then reflect upon some of the developmental aspects of obedience. True obedi-ence calls for a human act; It is an act that springs from the will.2 It involves the exercise of freedom and judge-ment. It is not a mechanically performed act that flows from passive conformity or childish submission to au-thority. In other words, the supernatural obedience of a religious should differ radically from the mechanical habit of obedience practiced by a child towards his par-ents. The obedience of the religious is an act that calls for an active choice which is based upon faith and char-ity. It is an act which requires the individual to overcome his own will. In all its perfection, it is an act which re-qUires that the religious accept the judgement of tile su-perior as his own. True obedience, therefore, should de-mand the making of mature decisions. There are many possible reasons why a religious may obey his superior. Some of these reasons may spring from childhood or adolescent sources. Frequently the religious may be unconscious as to the precise reason .why he obeys. It is this unconscious aspect of obeying that often presents obstacles when a subject is given an order of obedience. The religious who has developed true obedience knows why he obeys and his reason is deeply rooted in faith. He accepts the demands of obedience because he loves God. He gives up his own wishes and desires, so as to lead a life more fully dedicated to God. In other words, he has developed for himself a supernatural way of life built on faith which he has made his own. He does not obey be-cause he is afraid of the consequence of disobedience. He does not obey because he cannot stand to live with the feelings of shame and guilt that follow his acts of dis-obedience. He does not obey because he desires the ap-proval and admiration of his superior. Rather he obeys because he is convinced that obedience is one of the vir-tues that he must practice if he is to follow the way of life that he has freely chosen for himself. To arrive at Ibid., a.3. ÷ ÷ ÷ Obedience and Maturity VOLUME 21, 1962 R. P. Vaughan, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS such a conviction calls for mature deliberation followed by a mature decision. Natural Foundation The young man or woman who enters the religious life has not come into this life completely devoid of the habit of obedience. Usually. he or she enters with the nat-ural foundation for future supernatural obedience al-ready well established. Natural obedience is a necessary part of human living. It is theproduct of Christian family life. Were there no such thing as obedience, chaos would reign in most homes and this chaos would continue on in every other form of social life. As long as men live to-gether in social groups a certain amount of obedience will always be demanded of them.s For the privilege of group living, the indi,~idual must sacrifice some of his freedom; but by the sacrifice of this freedom he gains new freedom. He is not less a man because he obeys but rather more of a man because by so doing he is living according to his God-given social nature. Since obedience is a necessary part of human living, it stands to reason that one must somehow develop the habit of obeying. It is not an inborn characteristic nor is it something that suddenly springs into being. Rather like many of the other developmental processes that mark the life of man, the practice of obedience too follows defi-nite stages of development until it reaches a state of full maturity. For example, the child develops the ability to sit before he develops the ability to walk;, and he develops the ability to walk before he develops the ability to roller skate. The infant has no experience with obedience. His first acquaintance with the demands of obedience usually are connected with fear and punishment. He either com-plies with the wishes of his mother or he is punished. He either submits to her demands or runs the risk of losing her love. As he grows older, he comes to imitate more and more the ways of his parents. He incorporates into his own personality many of their ideals, attitudes, opinions, and values. He now obeys because he wants to be like them. At this time there also comes into being the emotions of shame and guilt which are quickly attached to certain forms of behavior. These emotions play a major role in the obedience of a child. He obeys because a boy is sup-posed to obey his parents. When he fails to obey, he is plagued with feelings of guilt and shame. The uncom-fortableness of these feelings causes him to think twice before he gives way once again to disobedience. Thus through childhood and early adolescence the motivating force behind obedience can be reduced to the reactions of fear, shame, guilt, and admiration. St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles, 3, c. 117. Adolescent Rebellion With the advent of full adolescence, the average boy or girl begins to re-evaluate many of the idea/s, attitudes, and values that he or she has taken from his or her par-ents. Frequently the adolesce.nt,re, bels agai, nst, these,atti-tudes and values, not ~ecessarily becati~e he f~ils to see their intrinsic worth but simply because he realizes that they are not his own but his parents'. He realizes all too well that he must develop his own standards and values. He must form his own opinions. His attitudes must be his own and not those of his parents. Rebellion is a neces-sary part of growing up. It definitely influences the de-velopment of obedience but most outgrow .rebelliousness and progress to a mature practice of obedience. Then an individual obeys the laws of God and the State and the demands of thole placed over him because he sees that obedience in some form is a necessary part of the philos-ophy of life which he has worked out for himself. Defective Foundation The virtue, of supernatural obedience as .practiced in the religious life is built upon the foundation of.natural obedience that was established in childhood and adoles-cence. Where that foundation is weak or warped, the practice of religious obedience will be faulty. The re-ligious who has never advanced 'beyond the childish level of obeying because of fear will often find that this is the motivating force behind his obedience in the religious life. Likewise the religious whose chief reason for obeying has never gone beyond the level of guilt and shame over vio-lating a divine or human command will find himself obeying his superior for this same reason. Finally, the re-ligious' who has never fully passed through the stage of adolescent rebellion frequently finds himself at odds with his superior simply because of this rebellious spirit. Un-fortunately, there is a bit of the child left in all of us, which in regard to obedience means that to some extent motives peculiar to childhood and adolescence linger on. The extent of their influence often depends upon our ability to detect and counteract such motivation by the development of full maturity in our obedience. When a young man or woman enters the religious life, he or she has already achieved a certain level in the de-velopment of natural obedience. Success in the develop-ment of supernatural virtue will depend upon the nature of the natural obedience. If the natural foundation for supernatural obedience is faulty, then this handicap must be remedied before the novice can be expected to practice true supernatural obedience. Effective training in obedi-ence, therefore, may require such counseling and direction as would be necessary to allow the young religious to see Obedience and Maturity VOLUME 21, 1962 + + ÷ R. P. Yaughan, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 424 why he obeys or why he fails to obey or why obedience presents such a problem to him. It is hoped that such counseling would result in insight into failures at specific levels of development followed by a change in attitude and motivation. For example, the seminarian who meets every command with a feeling of inner rebellion might be led to see that he is simply reacting to his superior in a way quite similar to the manner that he reacted to his father or mother when as an adolescent he was given a command: Once the natural foundation has been repaired, then the religious is in a position to develop supernatural obedi-ence. Supernatural Obedience Ultimately, however, whether the natural foundation for obedience must be repaired or whether that founda-tion is solid, training for supernatural obedience demands the building of a deep spiritual and ascetical life that is highly personalized. An essential part of this highly per-sonalized spiritual life would be an inner conviction that the most perfect way to love God is through the sacrifice demanded by obedience. If this personal conviction is at-tained, then acts of obedience will pose no problem but will be undertaken as a necessary part of the more perfect way of life which the religious has freely chosen to fol-low. Thus there would seem to be no value in practicing the young religious in useless acts of obedience, since obedience flows from a conviction and not from frequently repeated acts. 0bedience.is simply the natural outcome of a deeply spiritual life founded on faith and charity. The religious who understands the meaning and purpose of obedience and at the same time has a firm desire to live his life totally for God cannot help but practice the virtue of supernatural obedience when faced with a command from his superior. His total dedication to God leaves him no other choice but to follow God's will as manifest through the voice of his superior rather than his own will. To make a true act of obedience, therefore, demands a certain level of maturity. It demands that one has put aside at least to a significant degree any childish or adoles-cent qualities and' that he has assumed the responsibility of making a total dedication of himself to God. Generally speaking, only the mature person is capable of such a dedi-cation. True supernatural obedience is, therefore, a virtue possessed only by mature religious. Immaturity in Religious The mode of training given some young religious, how-ever, would actually seem to militate against the achieving o~ supernatural obedience. Under the guise of obedience; some groups of religious demand of their novices and newly professed religious a type of submission that simu-lates the obedience expected of a.child. It should not be surprising then to see in these religious a regression to childish forms of behavior. All one has to do is witness the immature actions of some novices and young religious to become aware that a return to earlier levels of behavior must be taking place. Often their way of acting is totally inappropriate to their age level. If it were seen in a college student or even more so in a young married man or woman, it would meet with amazement and embarrassment. Such behavior is often passed over with the justification that the seminarian or sister is just a novice or junior professed (as if these stages of the religious life entitle a person to regress to childish modes of acting). Noticeably absent in many novitiates and houses of stud-ies are opportunities to make important decisions for one's self. All that is required is fidelity to a routine way of life or to a course of studies, such as would be expected of the average ten year old. Frequently this absence of oppor-tunities to make decisions continues on long after the re-ligious has left the formative period. If the young religious is a teacher, the superior makes all decisions in regard to every phase of school activity. All initiative must come from the superior, and not from the subject. Thus One should not. be surprised that many religious do manifest certain signs of immaturity. They have been "treated as children and respond accordingly. Responsibility and Initiative The practice of obedience does not demand that the religious abandon all responsibilities, refrain from making decisions, and take up a childish existence. Within the framework of obedience, there is ample room for personal responsibility, initiative, and creativity. Whether these factors do exist in a group practicing the vow of obedience will depend upon the concept of obedience held by both the superior and the subject. If the superior envisions obedience as a process whereby his subjects become mere mechanical extensions of his own ego, then the practice of obedience will probably stifle psychological growth as expressed through initiative and creativity. In this situa-tion all initiative must come from the superior. No deci-sion is made by the subject without the explicit approba-tion of the superior. However, it would seem safe to say that such a limited view of obedience is far from the true view. A religious can practice the virtue of obedience without being under the explicit aegis of obedience in his every act. Thus he may be assigned a project and given full responsibility for making all decisions in regard to this project and still be operating under the vow of obedi- 4- 4. + Obedience and Maturity VOLUME 21, 1962 425 ÷ ÷ ÷ R. P. Vaughan, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 426 ence. It might be said that young religious should be given such responsibilities if for no other reason than to hasten the process of psychological maturity. For example, a novice should be given the full responsibility of teaching catechism to a group of public school children. He should be impressed with the idea that it is his responsibility to plan what is to be taught and how it is to be taught--pre-supposing some kind of general syllabus. He should be made aware of the fact that the success or failure .of the undertaking rests upon his shoulders and not upon those of the master of novices. Furthermore, the initial concep-tion and impetus for a project need not necessarily come from a superior if it is to be a work of obedience. It is the superior's approval that places the work under the banner of obedience. Thus if the novice who is teaching catechism develops some new ideas in regard to audio-visual aids, these ideas should not be stifled but encour-aged. The wise superior is one who realizes his own limita-tions and at the same time the potentialities ol~ his subjects and, as a result, looks for that initiative and creativity in his subjects which he may find wanting in himself. Personality, Weakness, and Obedience On the other side of the coin is the subject's attitude to-wards obedience. Due to a certain weakness of personality, some religious make use of a false notion of obedience as a means of solving their inner problems. Pseudo-obedience relieves the religious of overwhelming responsibilities and allows others to make decisions which he himself may be actually unable to make. It allows him to lead a protected, passive existence, free from the demands of adulthood. It requires no initiative on his part. It asks only that he do what he is told. Such conformity can hardly be honored by the name df obedience. Actually there, is no sacrifice of one's own will to follow the will of the superior. There is simply a following of the will of the superior because the subject is too weak to do otherwise or because childish sub-mission offers him a protection against a threatening world. On the other hand, the subject who understands the meaning of true obedience sees that he can take the initiative in many situations and that he can make use of his God-given creative powers as long as he does so under the approbation of his superior. He is also one who is will-ing to sacrifice these powers when the approbation of a su-perior is not forthcoming. Thus whether initiative and creativity will be limited in a life that professes the vow of obedience will depend upon the meaning that both the superior and the subject give to obedience. In conclusion, it can be said that the practice of obedi-ence and maturity are far from incompatible. If the obedi-ence is not mere submission but rather the true virtue of supernatural obedience, then it should further psychologi-cal maturity since only the mature religious is capable of a total dedication to God demanded by the virtue of obe~li-ence. Moreover, it can be said that true obedience offers the subject ample opportunity to assume such responsibil-ities as foster maturity. 4. ,4. 4- Obedience and Maturity VOLUME 21, 1962 427 ANDRE AUW, C.P. Contentment: Child of Poverty ÷ ÷ ÷ Andre Auw, C.P. is stationed at the Passionist Semi-nary, 1924 Newburg Road, Louisville 5, Kentucky. REVIEWFOR RELIGIOUS 428 Nothing is more characteristic of our modern jet age than the desire for change. Every day we Ere faced with constantly changing challenges to buy and try new magic-ingredient tooth pastes and detergents, to exchange old-model cars and freezers for better, newer ones. Dom Hu-bert Van Zeller, O.S.B., has summed up this spirit very neatly: "A man today will think little of changing his job, his house, his son's school, his religion, his political alle-giance, his car and his wife--perhaps all in the one year.''x This restless spirit is a sign and symbol of man's discon-tent. Men are discontented today, and they are discon-tented because they have a feverish thirst for things. They want things they would be better off without; they want things they cannot even use; they want things they simply cannot have. Men want things for many reasons: often be-cause having things is a symbol of security or a mark of distinction. But whatever the reason, men keep reaching out for new things to possess as if their very survival de-pended upon it. The sad fact is that the acquisition of all these things only adds to man's discontent. It is like a man who seeks relief from pain by taking morphine; the ensuing pain of addiction is worse than that of the original malady. Mother Janet stuart has supplied us with a better pre-scription for the illness of discontent. Faced with these same symptoms she once said: "We must either possess more or desire less." Implicit in Mother Stuart's statement is a rejection of the "possess-more" theory. Experience soon proves to us that the mere addition of things no more solves the problem of the discontented man than does the addition of drinks solve the problem of the alcoholic. The remedy is reduced to one choice: we must desire less if we 1 Dom Hubert Van Zeller, O.S.B., Approach to Calvary (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1961), p. 92. would find contentment. And the way to desire less is to develop the spirit of poverty. Often the very mention of the word poverty causes the formation of a series of unattractiveimages in our minds. The word seems to have the touch of winteT about it, sug-gesting something cold and sterile. But such is not the case. Poverty is a warm, lovely, life-giving thing. St. Francis of Assisi thought of poverty as a beautiful woman: Lady Poverty. St. Ignatius told his followers that they must think of poverty as a mother. The analogy of a woman or mother is especially apt since both are considered as sources of life and beauty. Woman's role is essentially life-giving and love-giving. And so it is with poverty. Poverty prepares us to receive the fullness of the Christ-life, and it continues to nourish that life. It prepares us to receive the everlasting love of the Spirit, and it keeps that love vibrant and strong. Rightly then is contentment called the child of poverty, for it is the first-born of a spirit which is essen-tially life-giving and love-giving. It is the fruit of the Spirit of love. In addition to this, poverty is the great liberator of man. Fallen nature has ringed us round with a steel circle of egocentrism. Poverty breaks through this closed circle and opens'up our souls to the wider worId of which Christ is the center. It gives us the thrilling freedom of the children of God, enabling us to soar instead of having to trudge along, burdened by the leaden weight of useless things. Most of the ugly effects of original sin can be, in some measure, neutralized by the spirit of poverty: self-interest, self-will, and especially self-pity. This latter effect, which is an unreasonable absorption in our current handicaps or misfortunes, can be one of our chief sources of discontent. Yet how wonderfully does a genuine spirit of poverty nul-lify our tendency towards self-pity. Helen Keller furnishes us with an excellent example of such a spirit. From child-hood she has borne the burden of blindness, deafness, and the inability to speak. Few have had better reason to in-dulge in self-pity than Helen Keller, yet never has she done so. Listen to her own life-summary: "It has been a happy life. My limitations never make me sad. Perhaps there is just a touch of yearning at times. But it is vague, like a breeze among flowers. Then the wind passes, and the flowers are content." It was the spirit of poverty which en-abled Helen Keller to appreciate herself as God had fashioned her. Poverty led her to contentment. As we read through the Gospels we cannot fail to notice the insistence of Our Lord upon the necessity for poyerty. Christ promised the "kingdom" to the poor: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom Of heaven" (Mt 5:3). By "poor in spirit" Christ meant the "little ones," the anawim of the Old Testament. These are the helpless, ÷ ÷ ÷ Contentment VOLUME 21, 1962 429 ÷ Andre Auw, C.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 430 childlike souls who accept all things from God's hands, who depend upon Him as a child depends upon a father, who willingly suffer persecution because they know that no matter what happens to them, their heavenly Father will care for them. The spirit of poverty produces in us this same childlike attitude towards ourselves and things and God. One of the ways in which it does this is by painting for us a picture of gratitude. We suddenly see how much we really have, and, as a result, the needs and desires of the moment as-sume a less important value in our eyes. The following story is told of Brother Andrd, C.S.C., the famed apostle of St. Joseph at the shrine in Montreal. One day a man came to him complaining of his numerous misfortunes, and the saintly .brother said to him: "Tell me, would you take a hundred thousand dollars for one of your eyes?" The man answered, "Why, of course notl . Or for.one of your feet or hands or arms? . No!" replied the man. "Well then,'.' said Brother Andre, "count them up: With your eyes and hands and feet and arms and legs, you're worth over a million dollars!" In his simple, homely way, Brother Andr~ conveyed a telling truth: we all are far richer than we realize. Such counting of blessings, this development of a deep sense of gratitude is one of the chief ways in which poverty prepares us for the gift of contentment. It is far easier, once we see how much we have, to control our desires for the things we have not. Slowly thi~ initial realization ex-tends to the conviction that w~ really need very little. And it is then that we will have been made rich by our spirit of poverty. The great reformer of La Trappe, De Ranch, saw the beauty of this paradox and thus wrote: "It is not the man who has much who is rich, but the man who wants nothing." Another way in which the spirit of poverty produces in us a childlike attitude towards things is by filling us with a genuine sense of compunction. Much of our greedy grasping for things derives from an inherited tendency to be what we are not. Like our first parents, we see an. at-tractive object and then begin to act as if we have a right to it. We, also, listen, to the serpent and try to "be like gods," asserting our self-interest and our self-will in oppo-sition to the divine interest and will. Compunction strikes at the roots of this tendency. An analogy is seen in the case of a man who in a moment of weakness has been unfaithful to his marital promises. Al-though the man may be forgiven by his wife and reunited to her love, still he always carries in his heart a remem-brance of his sin. This remembrance is a good thing, for it serves to prevent the man from reaching out again to-wards illicit loves. Now in a similar way, compunction helps us to control our desires by recalling our past infidelity to God's love. Compunction shows us two things clearly: the self-deceit of egocentric desires, on the one hand, and the miracle of God's forgiving love, on the other. Between these two poles of awareness we can live content, no longer ~rusting in selfish d~sires but rather relying totally upon God's will in our regard. Compuction, then, helps us to forget the things we should not remember, and to remember the things we must never forget. We are enabled to forget our unreason-able preoccupation with self. At the same time we can never forget that .we are sinners deserving nothing, lovers who have been unfaithful, and yet, despite all this, we are chosen souls who have been called to become saints, des-tined to share God's love for all eternity. Gratitude and compunction thus constitute two princi-pal ways in which the spirit of poverty will prepare our souls for the gift of contentment. Gratitude says to us: "You have so much." Compunction adds: "You have so much which you do not deserve." Both help.us to see our-selves and things and God with the clear vision of children: humbly, trustingly dependent upon God for all things. The true purpose of the spirit of poverty is the attain-ment of freedom from the captivity of self in order to be united to God. Poverty has the power to swing us from the orbit of egocentrism into the orbit of Christocentrism if we permit it to neutralize, one by one, our self-centered desires and attachments. An important consideration to recall at this point is the fact that our desires and attachments always wear most at-tractive apparel. Yet it is also true that, like Dante's hypo-crites, the beautiful cloaks are inreality leaden weights and the splendor of their appearance in no way lessens the ugliness of that which they try to hide. Desires can come to us under the cover of charity for our neighbor or zeal for souls. And all the while 'such desires may be purely self-centered. One such desire frequently comes to religious who have lived in their community for upwards of five years. The novelty has vanished, and in its place come new yearnings. Suddenly the religious feels that a different religious so-ciety might be the solution. A teaching sister feels that her talents belong in a missionary group; a Jesuit is attracted to the life of the Trappists. Yet almost always the counsel of a prudent spiritual director is: "Stay where you are." Since the desire appears under the guise of greater good for the Mystical Body of Christ, the ensuing trial can be very difficult for the particular religious. It is at such.a time that one discovers the meaning of a spirit of poverty. Thomas Merton went through this or- Contentment VOLUME 21, 1962 + ÷ ÷ Andre Auw, C.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 432 deal. He longed to share the solitude of the Carthusians. He thought that such a lifd would better serve the inter-ests of Christ and the Church. He was wrong. Heeding the wise counsel of his spiritual fathers, he remained with the Trappists to become a source of countless other contem-plative vocatons. It is, then, a man with personal expe-rience who later wote these lines: "Do not flee to solitude from the community. Find God in the community and he will lead you to solitude." Thomas Merton met the test of poverty; he relinquished his egocentric desire in a true spirit of poverty. Thus, for him, poverty led to content-ment. The lives of the saints are filled with similar trials. Be-fore they received the gift of contentment, they had to sac-rifice some dear desire or attachment.-For some it was a thing, for others a place, for still others a friendship. But like a cautery, the spirit of poverty had to burn away the cancerous growth of egocentrism. In the book, St. Madeleine Sophie Barat, Mother Ma-guire, R.S.C.J., describes an incident in the lives of Sophie Barat and Philippine Duchesne. Their early years to-gether were marked by a wonderful understanding and intimacy; yet this had to be sacrificed. The author says in reflecting their attitude: "[It was] a brief honeymoon of religious life to which they looked back nostalgically all' their .lives without ever doubting it was better to give it up." Both saints met the test of poverty; and thus, for them,, poverty led to contentment. Not that poverty does its work without pain. We all re-call that Francis of Assisi was the great exemplar of pov-erty, but what we may forget is the price he had to pay to win the hand of Lady Poverty. Francis Bernardone was a. man with warm Italian blood in his veins and had a poet's appreciation for beautiful things in his heart. He liked good food and the taste of fine wine. He enjoyed the ad-miration of his stalwart friends and the adulation of his fair admirers. But one day Infinite Love and Perfect Beauty spoke to Francis in his poet's heart and said: "Sell all, and come follow Me." It took years of struggle with himself, but Francis won the battle. One by one he cast aside his attachments as he had earlier cast aside his cloth-ing at the feet of his bishop and thus, "naked followed the naked Christ." Then it was that he was able to become the Poverello, singing to the birds and blue skies his constant refrain: "My God and my alll" For Francis, poverty led to contentment. And in southern France a young girl who became a woman without ever losing her childlike spirit of poverty was asked one day about a strange paradox in her life. Bernadette Soubirous had seen and talked with the Mother of God. She had been honored as had few mortalg. before her. And yet all the honors disappeared when she entered the convent. There she worked about the kitchen, accepting humiliation as a part of her daily fare. A fellow religious thought it odd that our Lady should give her such recognition and then ignore her, and she asked Ber-nadette why this should be so. Bernadette replied by way of a question, "What do you do when you have finished using a broom? . Why, I put it in the corner," answered the sister. And Bernadette said, "Well, that's just what our Lady has done with me. And. I'm happy in my corner." For Bernadette Soubirous it was equally true: poverty led to contentment. So it is that the spirit of poverty leads us from self to Christ. By its power we are enabled to pull away from the overly strong attraction of self-centered desires and are permitted to be drawn into the dynamic, life-giving love of Christ. As we empty our souls of self, Christ fills them. As we lose a worldly love, we gain a divine one. The spirit of poverty gives us the ability° to accept our-selves as we are, for by means of gratitude wesee how much we really have; and .by means of compunction we see how little we really deserve. Poverty helps us to forget the un-important facts of our lives and to remember the things that matter. Poverty lets us feel. the gentle hand of our Father, soothing the ache of our troubled minds, quieting the cry of our restless hearts, and calming the urgency of our impelling desires. It give~ us childlike trust for the needs of tomorrow and childlike joy for the deeds of to-day. Of all the saints, none has better expressed the life-giving effects of the spirit of.poverty than St. Paul. He .has given us a magnificent example of a man made rich through poverty, of a man living the fullness of the Christ-life. By his own testimony, St. Paul underwent a long cata-logue of apostolic .sufferings: hunger, nakedness, want, imprisonment, scourgings, persecution, lies, misunder-standings, disappointments. And yet with all these suffer-ings Paul was able to say: "Not that I have anything to complain of, for I have learned the secret, in any and all conditions, of being well-fed, and of going hungry, of hav-ing plenty and of going without. I can do anything through Him who gives me strength" (Phil 4:11-14). The example is a shining one for us. The language is clear. It is the statement of a sinner who became a saint, speaking to us in the beautiful vocabulary of Christian contentment. Contentment VOLUME 21~ 1962 GEORGE E. GANSS, S.J. Prudence and Vocations ÷ Rev. George E. Ganss, S.J., .St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, is the director of the Institute of Jesuit Sources. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS This article will deal with the order of practice; that is, its purpose will be to suggest some practical applications of prudence to the technique of counseling young men and women about vocations. For this purpose we do not need any detailed discussion of the metaphysical intrica-cies connected with the topic of prudence. But a brief re-view of the highlights, in one paragraph, will help us to get our bearings. The Concept o[ Prudence Prudence is correct knowledge about things to be done, recta ratio agibilium. St. Thomas accepted this definition from Aristotle and sagely pointed out that prudence is the application by the practical intellect of wisdom to human affairs (Summa Theologiae, 2-2, q. 47, a. 2). This is our basic concept. It is accurate but abstract. Hence we can profitably add some other observations which give it human warmth. Etymologically, prudentia is derived by contraction from pro-videns, looking ahead, St. Augustine says (Quaest. Lib., q. 83, a. 61), "Prudence is the knowledge of things to be sought and things to be avoided." St. Isidore of Seville is a little quaint but charming and not far wrong when he writes (Etymologiae, X, PL 82, 202), "A prudent man--one who, so to speak, looks far ahead; for his sight is keen, and he foresees the probable outcome of uncertainties." Prudence directs the other moral virtues so that fortitude may not degenerate into foolhardiness, or temperance into fanaticism, or justice into unreasonable rigorism. Prudence, too, leads a man to take counsel about the best means to be used to attain some end, to judge soundly about their fit-ness, and to direct their being carried into practice (Summa Theologiae 2-2, q. 47, a. 8; q. 51, a. 1, ad Basically, prudence is a natural~ virtue which is acquired ',, by experience and exercise. But a man in the state of grace receives also the infused virtue of prudence which supernaturalizes both the habit and the act of the natural virtue and makes them fruitful toward the supernatural destiny, the beatific vision (Summa Theolog!ae 2-2, q. 47, a. 14, ad 1). ~ Applications We now proceed to apply this theory in the practical order. The "thing to be done," about which we are seeking at least some "correct knowledge," is the tech-nique of counseling young men and women who may perhaps accept God's invitation .to dedicate their lives to Him in priestly or religious life. I think that our first step had better be to oil the gears of our own sense of humor, Some wag wrote this definition: "A crazy man is one who holds an opinion different from mine." This wag fared happily until his friend the crazy man applied the definition back to the wag who wrote it. After that, nobody could tell which one really was the crazy man, or which was crazier than the other. Now, I shall suggest some techniques of vocational counseling which I hope are prudent. But if the tech-niques of others are different from mine, and if I there-fore brand their techniques as imprudent, then I am crazier than my crazy wag just described above. There are many apt procedures or means to stimulate or guide young men and women to desire to consecrate them-selves to God. Each counselor must seek the methods which work best with his personality and his set of local circumstances. In each case the personalities of the direc-tor and of the advisee are important and highly individu-alistic factors. What works well with one counselor or advi~ee sometimes will not work at all with others. So, for each of us the exercise of prudence is our.continual search for correct knowledge and its application to our task in hand. In this, observation of the techniques of others is sometimes helpful because it brings new ideas which we can apply. It has been my good fortune during the past twenty years to counsel many boys and girls who have entered all the states of life. Most of these youths were in college, but many were in high school, and some in the grades. As a result of this experience, I shall suggest some procedures which God has on His occasions blessed with success. But I state them precisely and merely as suggestions which each one can modify, accept, or reject according to his own personality and situation. 4- 4- Pl/orucadteionnc$e and VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ ÷ G. E. Ganss, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 436 The Function of the V.ocation Counselor One point in which a zealous counselor of potential priests or religious can exercise prudence consists in his being aware of.his proper function. It is not to cajole or to "pressure" youths into "trying out" a seminary or novitiate; that would be the practice of "roping in" which they generally resent. Rather, the advisor's func-tion is to cooperate with God's grace in stimulating the boy or girl in such a way that he or she conceives on his own the desire to dedicate himself to God in priestly or religious life. As means to attain this effect, he can be an example of one who is happy in his dedicated life, and he can say and do things which bring 'the young people to see for themselves both the values and the joys of con-secrated life. The counselor's function can be called one of procreating grace. He stimulates the thoughts and de-sires which God supernaturalizes and through which, as actual graces, He gives the increase. A Sample Procedure How can he do all this prudently? To remain concrete and practical, I shall suggest, or rather exemplify, one procedure which has often turned out to be effective both with individual advisees and with groups (either in re-treats or in the classroom). 1. Put the advisee or group at ease by explaining your policy and procedure, somewhat as follows. "God has given to each young man or woman the right to choose his or her own state of life, and no one else--parent, priest, sister, or friend--ought to force or "pressure" one into any state. A counselor's function is to give the young person information by which he can make his choice mole in-telligently, or to explain the selections open to him, or to point out possible errors in his thinking, or, above all, to give him a chance to think out loud without feeling that he is as yet committing himself. But the making of the decision belongs to the youth himself; and that will be my policy in dealing with you." 2. Point out that the basic consideration, the hub around which everything else turns, is a clear and opera-tive concept of the chief purpose of life. For example, the counselor can present this statement and bring it to life: "God made me to give me an. opportunity to increase my sanctifying grace here below by performing meritori-ous deeds and by receiving the sacraments, and by means of this to merit a proportionately greater capacity here-after to know God directly, to love Him, to praise Him, and to be happy by the act of praising Him. The effor~ to do this here below is the pursuit of Christian perfectionl or spiritual development." 3. Explain that, to speak practically, there are four chief states of permanent situations in life in which one can work out his Christian perfection: those of marriage; single persons in the world; priesthood; and religious life as a nun, brother, or priest. God .invites each you.ng per-son into one of thosefor Which heis ~uited, but He leaves it up to the youth to accept or rejec~ this invitation. Hence the boy or girl should think the matter out, bring it to a head, and make his own decision. After he has made his choice and brought it to its irrevocable stage, God wants him or her to develop himself according to God's directives for the state he has entered, and to for-get about what might have happened if he had chosen some other state. In practice I have found it psychologically best with groups to explain marriage first--at considerable length and as an attractive state in which husband and wife should help each other to work out their Christian p~r-fection, Most of those present will marry, and all are spontaneously interested in this vocation. A careful and' inspiring presentation of Christ's plan for His Mysti-cal Body in miniature disarms the hearers of any fear of being "roped in" to one of the consecrated states. Then they are interested and happy to listen to an explanation of the other vocations to which God invites some. 4. Present a sound norm of choosing. The problem is not which state I like best, or even which is the best, for example, marriage or a consecrated state, Rather it is, which is the best for me with my personality and char-acteristics. To put it concretely, the most prudent pro-cedure for the youth is to conjecture, as prudently as he can: "In which of these states am I, with my personality, my temperament, and my personal abilities, likely to in-crease my sanctifying grace the most?" Variant wordings of this norm can make it clearer and more attractive, for example: ,In which state am I likely to bring greater glory to God?" or "to serve God and my fellow men the best?" 5. Give a theological explanation of what a vocation is, pointing the explanation to the particular.state of life in which the advisee is showing interest, for example, the sisterhood. This can be done in words somewhat like these. "Every vocation, to any sta~e of life, entails three elements: (a) God's invitation, (b) a decision of the in-dividual to accept it or not, and (c) a decision of the Church to admit him to the state in question. "For example, in its completed stage a vocation to the sisterhood comes into existence through these steps. First, through the thoughts or impulses and desires which are actual graces, God invites the qualified girl to offer her-self to serve Him and His Church in religious life. ÷ ÷ ÷ Prudence and Vocations VOLUME 21, 1962 (;;. £. (;(=nss, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~t38 "Second, she enters upon her period of deliberation. Helped perhaps by some reading, and surely by prayer, and perhaps by a counselor who will be guide, philos-opher, and friend but not a pressing salesman, she thinks out the details of her physical, intellectual, moral, and temperamental suitability for the life and work of the order she is thinking of entering. She weighs the pros and cons--and generally it is wise to write them in op-posite columns of a paper. Thus she formulates them more clearly, captures them for possible future use in moments of wavering or temptation, and gets the chance to evaluate their cumulative worth. "ALmong the reasons for, she sees the nobility of dedi-cating her life to God, and the spiritual values this of-fers: opportunities for growth in sanctifying grace~ Among the reasons against are the many values she must sacrifice to get those spiritual values: money of her own, marriage, being master of her own decisions, and the like. These latter values, being largely material and tangible, are often more attractive to human nature than the spiritual values which are more abstract. But through her prayerful thought, God gives her the light to see that the spiritual values are in reality the greater ones. Hence, for a good motive (one predominantly spiritual though it may be supplemented by natural motives), she decides to apply for admission. After proper investigation of her character and qualifications, the Church, acting through the re-ligious superior whom she has delegated, accepts her for the order. She now has a religious vocation in its prelim-inary stage, the stage for testing. "She enters the postulancy and then the novitiate, where she tests the life and the life tests her. As she goes along she discovers that her n~otives for leading the life grow stronger. Also, she gives reasonable satisfaction to those in charge of her. Toward the end of the novitiate she decides to pronounce her vows for the length of time the Church permits, and the Church decides, through the superior, to permit her to pronounce them. In similar fashion she goes through the periods of temporary pro-fession and then decides, again with the permission of the Church expressed through the superior, to consecrate her-self to Christ the King forever by perpetual vows. Now her vocation has reached its complete stage. This can be described as a set of circumstances in which she has a well founded hope that she will receive from God the helps she needs to live happily and well as a religious." 6. Gently tell the advisee to think this matter out pray-erfully and come to her decision. Give her a pamphlet or something else to read--preferably something not too long. The present writer has written his own pamphlet for this purpose which embodies the approach described above: On Thinking Out Vocations--to the Four Stages o[ Life (Queen's Work, St. Louis 18, Mo.). Reading this enables the advisee to review and even expand all that she has been told. Also, welcome her to come back for as many informal discussions as she wants. In what way is the procedure .outlined above an appli-cation of our principle of prudence? I think that it is such an application for two main reasons. First, it helps the advisee to set up his problem, and it shows him by ex-ample how to think it through. Second, right from the start it throws the burden of decision upon the individual. That is, it points up to the advisee the fact that sooner or later he or she must bring the matter to a head, think it out, and make a firm decision in the light of the clearly seen motives for and against. If she or he enters a con-secrated state, he will persevere only by the activi.ty of his own will aided by God's grace; and it is well that his first entrance also comes about through a similar act of his own will aided by God's grace. This advisee has not received any urging, but only the encouragement and self-confidence which are inherent in his discovering for him-self clear knowledge of the motives which bring him to enter religious life and to persevere. Raising Motives of Prospective Vocations We come now to a new application of prudence: some suggested means of gradually raising the motives of young men and women who begin to show an interest in the priesthood or religious life. The process which God seems to use most frequently in granting vocations---either vocations to the faith or vo-cations to priestly or religious life--is that of a gradual progression from natural to supernatural motives. This is why many priests have noticed that the majority of their conversions have sprung from courtships. In so many cases the motives which first evoke a non-Catholic's in-terest in the Church are natural ones: intimate friendship with a Catholic and the thought of marrying him or her. If the priest whom the non-Catholic approaches Simply tells his timid inquirer that his motive is unworthy, the inquirer departs and never returns. But if the priest is friendly and sympathetic and by his instructions gradu-ally raises the inquirer's motives, in many instances the latter eventually requests baptism for motives truly supernatural; and he would enter the Church with or without that marriage. God employs a similar technique in bestowing many, if not most, vocations to the priesthood or the religious life. The motives which first lead John or Mary to think of begoming a priest or nun are often on a purely natural plane. He has, perhaps, a religious teacher whom he ad- Prudence and Vocations VOLUME 21, 1962 439 ÷ ÷ ÷ G. E. Ganss, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 440 mires. That teacher's classes are well prepared, and he is always cheerful, approachable, willing to listen and then to help. His happiness and peace of soul shine through his work. John. gets the dim thought: "He (or she) is happy doing something really worthwhile, I'd like to be like him." Someday, perhaps with nervous shyness or clumsy inepititude, he stutters out an inkling of his vaguely formulated thought to a priest or nun who is in a position to direct him. If this director is inclined.to judge--"This person gives evidence of not knowing what a vocation means; his motives are insufficient, unworthy, shallow; therefore he has no true vocation"--he will also be prone to send John or Mary away quickly with a brief or even a curt remark, And John or Mary will not return. But if the direetor is alert and willing to risk his time, often he can gradually, patiently, and tactfully give John or Mary more motives; he can raise their natural ones to a supernatural level, so that eventually they will con-secrate themselves to God from motives truly worthy. In The Faculty Adviser for March, 1944 (St. Louis: The Queen's Work), Father Lawrence Chiuminatto, S.J., wrote that, in replies to a questionnaire, several hundred nuns listed, in order of frequency, the following attrac-tions which brought them to religious life: (1) The happiness, peace, contentment, friendliness, and so forth, of the sisters with whom they came into contact. (2) The good report and example of their relatives in religion. (3) An inner attraction to the life . a sense of happiness they felt in being in the companionship of sisters. (4) An increasing realiza-tion of the emptiness of worldly pleasures, which feeling sur-prisingly often followed the most enjoyable of parties and the best kind of entertainment. (5) An increasing love for Christ and the desire to work for souls. (6) A growing desire for a life of prayer and service, free from the dangers of temptations: (7) Lack of interest in the opposite sex and in establishing a family. (8) The glow of happiness experienced when present at religious processions, or even visiting a convent. (9) Lack of satisfaction and the peace of mind they sought. (10) The desire to make amends for their past life. (11) (Last and least of all) Some book or pamphlet read, sermon heard, retreat or mission made. Notice how many of these motives are natural ones; this is especially true of those observed first and conse-quently often the ones first broached to a director. They are natural, yes, but capable of being supernaturalized. Many of them, for example, 1, 2, half of 3, 4, 7, and 10, may at first seem unworthy motives. What if some director had hastily concluded to the unsuitability of those who had them and discouraged these young women who now are able and happy religious? Clearly, therefore, in many cases the director's tasK and opportunity is to raise natural motives to the superi natural and to supply additional motives as well. As-suredly he will discourage unfit subjects. But he will not be too hasty to conclude that an inquirer is unfit. Rather, he will strive to make true of himself what Isaiah said of Christ: "A bruised reed he will not break~ and a smoking wick he will not quench" (M~°12-:20). '°' ~' ' ' But how shall he proceed with prudence in order to realize his opportunity? Here again each director will have to use his own ingenuity. But here are a few sug-gestions: he can always show himself kindly, approach-able, easily accessible, and interested in the. advisee. He can make him feel welcome, and let him talk, even ram-ble. Once the advisee has worked up the courage to talk freely about vocation, he will talk himself into better motives, especially if he is drawn out a bit by questions somewhat like this: "Yes, that is a good reason [or becom-ing a priest; but isn't there another reason in your.mind, something like this, that you want to serve Christ better?" Other means of raising or adding motives will occur to you as you observe the need of each case. And as you work keep up your courage despite some disappointments. Remember, Christ did not win all his cases; neither will you. So do what you can, and with peace of soul leave the rest to God. Plant and water and pray Him to grant the increase. Allowing Full Freedom in the Choice o[ a Group When John or Mary has decided to .dedicate himself to God, the Church allows him full freedom to apply to the order or diocese in which he thinks he will bring greater glory to God. It is prudent for the counselor to do the same. He may well give information about the type of work done, or the need of personnel, or the out-look on the spiritual life of any of them, including his own. But if he exerts pressure in favor of his own or any other group, he may well stir up resentment in the young person and spoil the vocation for his own and all other groups too. The choice belongs to the boy or girl. In the long run all the groups of priests, brothers, or nuns will come out best if they follow a policy such as this, for all of us will be working to help one another. Each of us should indeed ha,~,e love and loyalty towards his own group, but above all should be our love and loyalty to-ward the welfare of the universal Church. The Screening o[ Candidates It is obvious that applicants who are clearly unfitted or unlikely to become suitable religious should be discour-aged from entering the novitiate. But prudence requires that a vocational counselor should not be too quick to decide that one is clearly unfitted. Frequently through + 4. 4. Prudence and Vocations VOLUME 21, 1962 44.1 academic counseling, or tests of his general intelligence or ability to read English, some one temporary deficiency is discovered which can be remedied. It is wise, too, for the vocational counselor to remember that he is not yet recommending one for ordination or for perpetual pro-fession. Rather, he is recommending that the advisee be given a chance to enter the course in which he will de-velop himself and eventually prove himself fit for ordina-tion or perpetual profession. Virtually every vocational counselor who has had years of experience will discover something like this as he re-flects back over cases he has handled in the past. Many of those about whose fitness and disposition he felt most sure sooner or later dropped out. And many of his border-line cases about whom he felt most insecure happily de-veloped in an unexpected way, and they are today doing excellent work as happy priests or religious. He shudders at the thought of what would have happened if he had been too rigid. We are 'dealing with at least two unpre-dictable factors, human free will and God's grace. We cannot guess all our cases. St. Thomas has told us that in many things human prudence cannot be infallible. In other.words, all we can hope for is a good batting average. Let us accept our human limitations, and with them do the best that we can for God, and confidently leave the test to Him. That is the final application of prudence which I have to suggest. Also, if others think that a dif-ferent approach is better for them than that which I have described, it does not mean that either of us is necessarily wrong. G. E. Ganss, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS WILLIAM C. MclNNES, s.J. Adaptation of Retreats for College Students In one of the introductory observations to the Spiritual Exercises, Saint Ignatius very wisely comments that "the Spiritual Exercises must be adapted to the condition of the one who is engaged in them, that is, to his age, educa-tion, and talent." Hardly any retreat director, amateur or professional, would professedly disregard such an in-struction. Yet many directors are perhaps not fully aware of the practical consequences of such an instruction. Some, succumbing to the favorable comments of ~hree or four delighted sisters after a retreat, will° feel that they have, therefore, successfully reached ninety to one hun-dred retreatants. Others, suspecting that experience by itself brings empathy, feel assured that they can reach sisters and brothers, religious and lay people with little extra effort since "they are all essentially the same." But neither unrepresentative comments nor even ex-perienced intuitions can be a satisfactory basis for the large-scale conducting of retreats today. Adaptation re-quires a firmer foundation than pleasantly prejudiced opinions or intuitive knowledge. It demands a valid and representative insight into the mentality of the audience. Such an insight is, in fact, almost as important as a knowl-edge of the Exercises themselves. It is just as necessary to know whether a message is being received by a particular audience as it is to know what the message is. The retreat director must, then, be armed with some understanding of the audience he is attempting to reach as well' as of the instrument he is trying to use. Without the latter the director has nothing to say; without the former he is talking only to himself. This knowledge of the audience, which is the basis of successful adaptation, is of special importance in plan-ning retreats for college students. Usually these retreats to students are given to rather large groups, they last only three days, and they offer a condensed version of the + William C. Mc- Innes, S.J., is associ-ate dean at Boston College, Chestnut Hill 67, Massachu-setts. VOLUME 21~ 1962 443 ÷ ÷ ÷ W. C. Mclnne$, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Ignatian Exercises. But even more than the changed. circumstances, the changed character of the audience postulates special adaptation. The modern student moves in a world that shapes much of his life and most of his views. It trims his ideals and sets a horizon to his vision. It colors his power to speak and his power to listen. It determines his power to pray and his ability to sit still. A sympathetic insight into this world along with a re-alization of the problems in communication that are raised are fundamental to the success of college retreats. The question is not: should we adapt retreats for college students or not? It is: how can we best adapt? To many outsiders a college campus is a remote, ivy. covered island in a hectic world, and a college student's life is permeated by that pastoral calm. Someone has calle~t college "a four year bracket before the beginning of real living." But the stereotype is inaccurate. Actually the four years of college are years of restless searching, new discoveries, and increasing pressures which leave a deep imprint on student lives and hence are certain to influ-ence receptivity to any message, spiritual or otherwise. A college career today is more institutionalized and pressurized than ever before. The college student begins his college career as a College Board score in the admis-sions office; he survives as a cumulative average in the registrar's file; and his whole academic record is sum-marized and punched out by an IBM printer. During his four years of school, he will be continually pressured to produce, to get good grades "if you want to get into graduate school," to rank in the top ten per cent of your class "if you want an interview for a good job at the placement office." Meanwhile all around him he dis-. covers heightened opportunities for sense pleasure and for taking a "break" when he thinks he needs it or when the pressure gets too great. And frequently he finds that he has the inflated wallet that makes these "breaks" fi-nancially possible. The external pressures from organization and pleasure are matched by an internal confusion which also jams any channel of communication to his soul. No respectable student today would be found dead wearing the label of "organization man." Yet college campuses are cluttered with the symbols of conformity--a conformity ruled by some anonymous Seventh Avenue clothing merchant or a "name" drama critic on a New York newspaper. A grow-ing sophistication makes most college students reject violently any argument from authority. Yet many of them will adhere dogmatically to a relativism that makes all intellectual pursuit an entertaining exercise without either agonizing pain or blinding ecstasy--and, worse~ without any deep commitment. In such an environment! it should not be surprising that the vision of truth is un-consciously tarnished by life's distractions and the dedi-cated pursuit of an abstract ideal is unwittingly slowed down by the practical concerns of life and the growing feeling that "it really isn't what you know but whom you know that counts." It is to this buffeted, pleasure-loving, uncommitted young generation that the retreat movement reaches out. And successfully too. The growing number of retreat houses, the steadily rising statistics of the number of re-treatants making closed retreats annually, the growing importance of the layman's retreat movement prove the fact. Why? Because retreat directors are speaking the message of Christ in language modern students can grasp. As long as there is contact, the message can get through. During the past two years, the author has directed a series of closed weekend retreats for Catholic college men. These retreats were held at a nearby seminary where the retreatants made the standard Ignatian Exercises and were also able to take some part in the community life of the seminary. In an effort to insure a continuing contact be-tween director and retreatants by determining the reac-tions of actual participants, a written questionnaire was devised and distributed at the close of.each retreat. The questionnaire sought to determine their impressions, fa-vorable and unfavorable, what they found most helpful about the retreat and what they found most difficult, what they would suggest to be changed. A~total of 203 detailed returns, representing about eighty per cent of the total number of retreatants, was received and form the basis of this study. Some may object that a sociological instrument of this type has no place in the giving of retreats. Such a device, however, is actually far more representative than the scat-tered oral comments of a few retreatants, and it is far more objective than the intuitive impressions of the director. Will it extract any worthwhile information? It .can, if properly constructed and explained so that bias and leading questions are eliminated. Compared to one hundred per cent accuracy, it is, of course, poor. But compared to a pure guess, it is certainly an improvement. And since one hundred per cent accuracy is impossible by any means and a pure guess is inadequate by any ob-jective standard, it does provide at least some exploratory information that can give important leads to an inquiring retreat director. The retreat groups which form the basis of this study ranged in size from seventeen to fifty-eight. The average number was thirty-five. Three of the groups were made up of undergraduate students majoring in business; two other groups were taking liberal arts. One group was 4. 4. 4- Retreats College Students VOLUME 21, 1962 445 + W. C. Mclnnes, S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 446 composed of sodalists, most of whom had made retreats before; two other groups were composed primarily of students making retreats for the first time. One group wax composed of a senior class taught by the director and so were all known to him beforehand; two other groups were from another Catholic college and had never met the director before. One group was an intercollegiate group of business majors from three colleges; another group was an alumni group~mostly married---of men. working in business. Hence this diversity of composition permits some comparisons between those with a profes-sional education and those with a general education; be-tween those with previous retreat experience and those with none; between undergraduates versus alumni, strangers versus friends of the ,director, those .familiar with retreats and those who had never made a retreat before. Some of the findings of this study are perhaps obvious. Others are revealing. Still others, while obvious in con-tent, are revealing in the extent and force with which they appear. Some of the general highlights of the study follow: 1. A voluntary closed retreat means many different things to each retreatant; but to all it is a very special event which greatly impresses the college student who makes it, especially if he is making a retreat for the first time

Issue 46.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1987. ; Modern Media and Comn~unity Vocation Directors and Sexuality Trends in Spirituality--1986 An Experience of Group Direction Volume 46 Number 2 March/April, 1987 Rl~v~l~w VOR RIz~,~c;~ous (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with faculty members of St. Louis University's Department of Theological Studies. The editorial offices are located at 3601 Lindell Blvd., Room 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REvw.w RF~l_~c,~otJs is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO © 1987 by REv~.w ~:OR RV, t,~G~OtJS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription: U.S.A. $11.00 a year: $20.00 for two years¯ Other countries: add $4.00 per year (surface mail)¯ Airmail (Book Rate): $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: R~:viFzw vor~ R~:~Acaot~s: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F.X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor March/April, 1987 Volume 46 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the edilor should be sent to REVIEW I.'OR R~:~.~taotls: Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v~:w ~'ou RE~,W.~o~s: Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393, "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The Fi st Stage tO"Union: The Active Night Of the .Senses Susan A. Muto Doctor Muto is Director of Duquesne's Institute of Formative Spirituality (Duquesne University; Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15282). St. John of the Cross' teaching in the first book of the Ascent of Mount Carmel presupposes that the sojourner has reached that stage in the spiritual life where he or she Js ready to advance beyond the beginnings of prayer and awaken to the deeper regions of divine intimacy. Thus he writes here for (advanced) beginners and persons already proficient in such virtues as detachment, humility and charity. The aim of Book One is threefold: to help an already well,formed self, one who has tasted certain pleasures and satisfactions, to unburden itself of worldly, inordinate attachments; to share the knowledge the saint has gathered through his own reading, experience, and direction as to how souls are to avoid spiritual obstacles; and to describe in concrete detail the way in which one can live in the freedom of spirit necessary, for divine union. It is wise at this point to read the poem, "One Dark Night," and return to it, for its moving images teach--more than abstract concepts can--how happy the soul is to pass through the nights of sense and spirit to union with its Beloved. In the Prologue to Book One the master says that his guides on this journey will be, above all, the desire for God, along with the background wisdom provided by Sacred Scripture and the doctrine of the Church. He immediately identifies two main obstacles to advancement, these being, in a phrase, inadequate direction and inadequate appraisal. Spiritual directors, 161 Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 lacking both sufficient knowledge and experience.of what is happening to the pilgrim soul may unwittingly encourage persons to continue in their old ways. Then, too, the person himself or herself may neither know how to nor want to advance. Even if the Lord comes, they are not willing to adapt themselves to his work. They resist the flow of grace or refuse to cooperate. Thus: God gives many souls the talent and grace for advancing, and should they desire to make the effort they would arrive at this high state. And so it is sad to see them continue in their lowly method of communion with God because they do not want or know how to advance, or because they receive no direction on breaking away from the methods of beginners (AMC, I, Prologue, 3/70).* Failing to understand that God is the author of this enlightenment, ill-prepared directors may urge persons, instead of advancing, to return to former ways of prayer or to make many general confessions. They do not realize that now is not the time for such activity: Indeed it is a period for leaving these persons alone in the pu~'gation God is working in them, a time to give comfort and encouragement that they may desire to endure this suffering as long as God wills, for until then, no remedy--whatever the soul does, or the confessor says--is adequate (AMC, I, Prologue, 5/71). Having said this, St. John begins in Chapters One and Two to explain the imagery of'the "night" that will guide both him and the soul. Early evening or twilight marks the point of departure, the time of purgation, for the soul will experience deprivations of its appetites for worldly pleasure, possessiohs; powers. As one mortifies these, one is led deeper into the night--to the midnight hour of dense darkness where the only means of progress is faith, where intellect is deprived of its normal modes of knowing so that one may be made ready for the secret and intimate self-communications of God. The night eventually gives way to daybreak, to the dawn, which symbolizes the point of God's arrival, the time of love's illumination transformed into perfect union with the Lover: Thus these phases of the night encompass the threefold path of purgation, illumination, and union, not as something accomplished once and for all in linear fashion, but as an ongoing cycle of deprivation, restoration, and transformation. One discovers through the nights of sense and spirit that, as St. Teresa of Avila says, on this walk through life God alone suffices. No object of sense, no concept, image, or idea, can fulfill our infinite desire. The point of Chapter Three is to identify the first cause of this night as the "privation"~or deprivation of perverted desires or appetites. Perhaps The First Stage to Union this is St. John's way of explaining, as a necessary condition for.spiritual deepening, control of the pleasure principle. This control actually effects a rechanneling of vital energies so that they flow from and return to their transcendent source. We must go through this "night" in order to restore the equilibrium thrown off by excessive attachment to the gratifications afforded by our relations, sensually speaking, to persons, things and events. It is clear from the context of this chapter that St. John believes that all creation is good; nothing is evil in itself. Ideally we ought to proceed from the manifestations of God to God himself. In reality, due to the spiritual blindness imposed by our fallen condition, we cling frantically to these vital gratifications. By refusing to let them go, we disavow them. as pointers to their Creator. We tend to make them ultimate sources of pleasure or posses-sion. They become idols or ends in themselves. The result of not entering the night of sense deprivation is, therefore, an increase of formation igno-rance or forgetfulness of our true transcendent" nature--the dynamic that marks our most distinctive human quality. Hence, we need the "night" to reawaken our capacity to remember the Creator in our sense perception of creatures. That is to say, we must see through the visible to the invisible Reality. We are not to remain only on the surface of things but to behold in faith the depth dimension. By darkening the senses of hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting and touching, one is paradoxically free and empty of all things, even though one possesses them. In short: "Since the things of the world cannot enter the soul, they are not in themselves an encumbrance or harm to it; rather, it is the will and appetite dwelling within it that causes the damage" (AMC, 1, 3, 5/77). St. John now goes on, in effect, in Chapters Four and Five to suggest three steps to follow on this phase of the journey through the dark night to God. They are, in a word, remembrance, comparison and renunciation., In the first place, to be freed from this idle/idol illusion, one must strive to remember the right relation between creation and the Creator. Curiously enough, this re-membering has to do with dismembering, that is, of divesting ourselves of inordinate attachments to things as they are in themselves, as if they could be separated f~om their Creator. To dismember a thing as ultimate is to re-member it as dependent on God.Such detachment, while painful, helps one to appreciate things much more as manifestations of the goodness of God. By contrast, one who is clothed in these affections (versus dis-membered) will be "incapable of the enlightenment and dominating full-ness of God's pure and simple light, unless he rejects them" (AMC, I, 4, 1/77-78). Harsh as it may sound, St. John holds firm to his conviction that the light of divine union cannot be established in the soul until these (inordi-nate) affections are eradicated. A more positive way of making the point 164 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 might be to ~ay t~at when our idolizing ~lesire to take pleasure in and to possess things as such is mortified, we can appreciate them as they are in their pristine origin and beauty. We move in this way from a posture of violence and control to one of love and letting be, from an attitude of manipulation and calculation to one of compassion. A second helpful step at this stage of the journey is to set up a comparison between the finite, limited nature of things as distinct from the "how much more" of the infinite. For example, the Sea of Galilee compared to the sea of God's love is like a drop of water compared to the Pacific Ocean. Simi-larly, creatures, however beautiful, elegant and abundant they may be, com-pared to their Creator are as darkness compared to light, are as coarseness compared to grace, or ignorance compared to ability. Through this exercise in comparison, St. John introduces us to the Reality Principle, namely, he wants us to see things as they really are in their limited value and as pointers to the limitlessness of thei'r Lord. Via this comparison, we will be better able to break the tendency to make any "little beyond" into the "True Be~,ond"' and hence _to. r_is_k !nitiating a pseud.o-spirituality that invests in something finit~ the richness of the Infinite. Understanding this point of comparison enables us to read Chapter Four as a litany of praise to our Creator God: ¯ . . all the being of creatures compared with the infinite being of God is nothing . All the beauty of creatures compared with the infinite Beauty of God is supreme ugliness . All the grace and elegance of creatures compared with God's grace is utter coarseness and crudity. (AMC, l, 4, 4/79). Here St. John would agree fully with St. Paul that the wisdom of the world is mere foolishness in God's sight (1 Co 3:19). Clearly, the meaning of these statements does not intend for us to reject creaturely being, beauty, grace and ability as bad, but to place these attributes in their proper rela-tion to God. They will all pass away, but not his word. Creaturely qualities, no matter how rich, are ultimately poor in comparison to the Being, Beauty, Elegance and Wisdom of God. Our hope resides not in this or that momen-tary pleasure or possession but in God alone. If the first step out of illusion is to remember our nothingness without God, then the second step is to compare his eternal truth with whatever is temporal. The promise he makes to us is more trustworthy than any stopping place on the path of formation. Thus it is up to us to keep running the race to the end, which means not resting ultimately in anything but God, for, as St. Augustine has said so beautifully, our hearts are restless until they rest in him. Or, to again quote St. John: The First Stage to Union All the sovereignty and freedom of the world compared with the f~eedom and sovereignty of the Spirit of God is utter slavery, anguish, and cap-tivit3; . All the delights and satisfactions of the will in the things of the world in contrast to all the delight that is God is intense suffering, tor-ment and bitterness . All the wealth and, glory of creation compared with the wealth that is God is utter poverty and misery in the Lord's sight (AMC, I, 4, 6, 7/80). The third step, as suggested in Chapter Five, is the most radical, for St. John says that total renunciation is the condition par excellence for pure transformation. Here paradox prevails, Just as knowing is only possible in unknowing, so freedom of spirit or liberation is the result of detachment or renunciation. One must empty the appetite of all the natural and super-natural things which can be a hindrance to the journey to God. This kenotic experience does not happen once and for all but demands habitual effort in cooperation with the graces God is bestowing. The language here allows for no compromise: , The road and ascent to God, then, necessarily, demands a habitualeffort to renounce ~nd mortify the appetites; the sooner this mortification is achieved~ the sooner the soul re~ches the top. But until the appetiteff are eliminated, a person will not arrive, no matter how much virtue he practices. For he will fail to acquire perfect virtue, which lies in keeping the soul empty, naked and purified of every appetite (AMC, I, 5, 6/83). If we desire to climb the summit of the mount "in order to become an altar for the offering of a sacrifice of pure love and praise," we must strive to accomplish three.tasks, described through the following metaphors: first, we must "cast out strange gods," meaning that we have to let go of any affections and attachments that tend to alienate us from God; secondly, we must purify ourselves of their residue through habitual denial (saying no for the sake of a greater yes) and--for as often as we fail to do so-- through habitual, confident repentance (trusting that God's mercy responds with motherly tenderness to our misery); and, thirdly, we must take on a "change of garments," meaning that we must be clothed in a "new under-standing of God [through the removal of the understanding of the old man], and in a new love of God in God . " In this way, we move from igno-rance of who we really are toward acceptance of our being made in the form and likeness of God, of our being, as St. John puts it, "his worthy dwelling." The saint is one who says with every fiber of his or her being: "My God and my all!" One accepts this truth without flinching: "The only appetite God permits and wants in his dwelling place is the desire for the perfect fulfillment of his law and the carrying of his cross" (AMC, I, 5, 8/84). Having reflected on the meaning and demands of total renunciation and "166 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 the liberation it brings, St. John moves on in the next five chapters (Six through Ten) to analyze the harms the appetites engender in the soul. There are two main areas of harm, the one privative, the other positive. In general, unruly appetites deprive us of God's spirit. By our attachment to a created thing weoare less capable of soaring free to God. St. John relies for his reason-ing on the philosophical fact that two contraries cannot coexist in the same person. Therefore, "Since love of God and attachment to creatures are con-traries, they cannot coexist in the same will" (AMC, I, 6, 2/85). In biblical terms, rather than accept our privilege as children of God to eat at his table, we act like dogs who must eat the crumbs that fall to the floor. We refuse to rise from the "crumbs" of creatures to the uncreated Spirit of the Father. It stands to reason that "this uncreated fullness cannot find entry to a soul until this other hunger caused by the desires is expelled" (AMC, I, 6, 3/85). As to the second harm, which is positive, we must realize that numerous. impediments are wrought in the soul by inordinate appetites, the most obvious of these being that they weary, torment, darken, defile and weaken the true seeker. Our spiritual life suffers in the first place because these appe-tites weary and tire us to death. He compares them to restless, discontented children, who wear their mothers out trying to please them. Satisfied at one moment, they demand more satisfaction the next. The more one quiets their cravings, the more demanding they become. One feels increasingly agitated, disturbed, fatigued. Like the pulsion governing physical hunger or sexual need, so appetites in general are stirred to satisfy themselves endlessly. St. John makes this analogy: Just as a lover is wearied and depressed when on a longed-for day his oppor-tunity is frustrated, so is a man wearied and tired by all his appetites and their fulfillment, because the fulfillment only causes more hunger and empti-ness. An appetite, as they say, is like a fire that blazes up when wood is thrown on it, but necessarily dies out when the wood is consumed (AMC, I, 6, 6/87). Such desires make it impossible for us to live in the longing for God alone, for instead of him, weexpect them to satisfy us. It is as if we keep looking for heaven on earth. Thus we become ready victims of illusory promises of fulfillment. We give in to the pressures of consumerism. In both cases the sad reward is discontent, for we have turned unwittingly from God who alone can satisfy us. These inordinate appetites not only wear us-out, they also torment us. They gnaw at us mercilessly, as if we were bound by tight cords or tortured on a rack. The torment would be comparable to that which a person suffers who lies naked on thorns and nails; who is in pain; who knows no peace; who is always thirsty. In contrast to what happens to us when the cord of The First Stage to Union / 167 desires tightens around us, when the possessions we cling to desperately possess us, think of the liberation of the children of God. Consider the refreshing peace that is ours when we surrender our will to his. Instead of wasting our efforts, why don't we delight in the abundance of God? We should learn to see that this movement to~vard abundance is a departure from the pleasures of crea-tures, because the creature torments, while the Spirit of God refreshes'.' -Accordingly, God calls us through St. Matthew. as though he were to say: All you going about tormented, afflicted, and weighed down by your cares and appetites, depart from them, come to me and I will refresh you; and you will find the rest for your souls that the desires take away from you (Mt 11:28-29) (AMC, 1, 7, 4/88-89). Thirdly, these self-centered desires blind us. It is as if we are living behind a cloudy pane of glass that blocks out the bright sunshine. We see only a hazy image of things--not things as they really are. Due to this blindness, it is impossible for us to think clearly. It is as if the powers of our transcen-dent mind are dulled by the excessive demands of the vital or functional spheres. Both natural reason and supernatural wisdom are darkened. And when the intellect is obscured, the will becomes weak and the memory dis-ordered. The desire for const'an~ pleasure or sensual stimulation makes reflec-tive living a virtual impossibility. Things go from bad to worse because the intellect is incapable of receiving the illumination of God's wisdom; ttie will cannot embrace the pure love of God; and the memory lessens its capacity for the impression of the serenity of God's image upon it. Unless these blinding desires are mortified, one will not advance on the way of union. It stands to reason that if the~e unruly appetites lead a person, he or sh~ is bound to be blind to the'mind's appraisal powers. One reacts on impulse, without the help of a quiet attunement to the Christ form in the core of one's being. All that is released is the counterfeit form of con-cupiscence and pride. No amount of penance can overcome this darkness if one does not root out the source of the trouble, namelyl the blinding blockage of inordinate desires. They are like a ~ataract on the eye or specks of dust in°it. Until they are removed, they obstruct vision. One way or another, in this life or in the next, these appetites have to be chastised and corrected. They have to underg6 purgation before any steady progress in the spiritual life can take place. St. John laments this condition of forma-tion ignorance in language reminiscent of the prophets: Oh, if men but knew what a treasure of divine light this blindness caused by their affections and appetites deprives them of, and the number of mis-fortunes and evils these appetites occasion each day when left unmorti-fle!! . At every step we mistake evil for good and good for evil. 16~i / Review for Religious., March-April, 1987 This is peculiar to our nature. But what will happen if appetite is added to our natural darkness? . We have felt our way along the way as though blind, we have groped as if without eye,s, and our blindness has reached the point that we stumble along in broad daylight as though walk-ing in the dark (AMC, I, 8, 6, 7/91). Using even stronger language, St. John assures us that such blind desires stain ,and defile the soul, bringing it into bondage under the rule of the autarchic-pride form, and blackening the beauty of the christ form we are called to release. We are like someone who is stained by pitch or blacker than coal--and yet we are meant to be whiter than snow or milk. This is so because even the disordered soul remains in substantial union with God. It "possesses in its natural being the perfection that God bestowed when creating .it," even though in its rational being it is full of the defilement described here. We cannot grow in Christ-likeness until this defilement, is checked by formative detachment. The tragedy is that these inclinations keep us away from the peace God is drawing us toward in the life of union. incredible as it may sound: One inordinate appetite alone., suffices to make a soul so captive, dirty, and unsightly that,until the appetite is purified the soul is incapable of con-formity with God in union. This is true even though there may be no matter for mortal sin in the appetite. What thenwill b~.the ugliness of a soul entirely disordered in its passions and surrendered to its appetites? How far it will be from God and his purity (AMC, I, 9, 3/92-93). It follows that all three faculties of the soul are affected by this kind of attachment. Just as one bad spot spoils an entire garment, so intellect, memory, and will are defiled by disordered desires. . The end result is that such desires render us lukewarm, spiritually speaking. Appetites that go unmortified eventually sap the soul of the strength it needs to persevere in the practice of virtue. In this weakened state, ours is an on-again, off-again spirituality. We are usually overdependent on consolations and only sporadically attracted to steady discipline. Appetites, as it were, divide and conquer us, whereas asceticism unites our inner faculties and makes us stronger. Lacking this discipline, we feel scattered. Our faith is easily challenged. We may.be open targets for exalted schemes that promise salvation through a wide door, not a narrow gate. We would like to master God rather than allow him to master us. What matters most is not his will but our own interpretation of the easy way. Without purgation and ongoing appraisal of the direction of our spiritual life, self-gratification, not God, becomes our center. As far as St. John is concerned, this would be hell on earth. Instead of copcentrating on strength-ening our practice of virtue, all we care about is satisfying our desii~es, Little The First Stage to Union / 169 wonder, then, that they rob us of what we already have. Unmortified appe-tites result in killing our relationship with God. Because we did not put them gently but firmly to death first, they live on to kill us. For what difference does it make if we win the whole world and lose our soul? Having spelled out in vivid detail the privative and positive harms appe-tites can cause in the soul, St. John explains again in Chapters Eleven and Twelve what kinds of appetites are detrimental to the soul. To do so he distinguishes three kinds of appetites, moving from the least to the most detrimental, these being the natural ones, the "semivoluntary and the voluiatary. Natural movements, as, for example, an ear for and an attraction to good music, are of little or no hindrance to the attainment of union, provided we do not make them the center of our attention nor pass beyond the first stage of spontaneous affinity in which the rational will plays no part. Because we are a body-mind-spirit unity, because we are born with certain givens in the realm of temperament, disposition and talent, it is impossible to eradi-cate natural appetites in this life, and, were we to do so, it would most likely be deformative. TheSe movements go hand in hand with our creatureliness. One can be experiencing them in the sensitive part of one's being, as, for instance, a hunger pang, and yet be free of the desire for food at this moment, as, for instance, during a liturgy, in the rational part of one's being. These movements can even be stirring in a person who is experiencing an intense union of will in the prayer of quiet. These appetites may actually dwell in the sensory part of the soul, yet the superior part pays no attention to them, just as there can be foam on the ocean's surface and deep calm underneath the sea. One. may even feel certain sexual stirrings without in the least detract-ing from one's absorption in God in the center of one's being. As long as one pays no attention to them--rletting them buzz in and out like flies but not stopping to swat them--one need not be concerned about them. Such is not the case with the other appetites--~whether the less grave, which involve venial sin, or the most serious, which involve mortal sin. The trouble with natural movements, which are the least of them all, is that one can consent to them and be forthwith ~aught up in imperfections that are contrary to God's will. If one is to reach (he perfection of union with God through one's will and love, it is obvious that one must be freed from every appetite, howe~,er slight. One must have the strength and freedom to be able--in the face of temptation--to refuse consent. There is a difference between "ad~,ertence" Or "knowingly" falling into imperfections, and "inad-vertence" or falling without much knowledge or control of the matter. These are the semivoluntary sins because of which it is said that the just man will fall seven times a day and rise up again. Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 The real problem resides with the voluntary appetites. Anyone of these, even the most trifling, is sufficient to impede union. Especially problematic are the "habitual appetites," because scattered acts rooted in diverse desires are not such a hindrance. They are not a determine~l habit--yet ultimately the soul must be liberated of these too since they both proceed from and may lead to habitual imperfection. Habitual, voluntary imperfections that are not completely mortified not only stand in the way of divine union but also hinder spiritual prog~ress as such. St. John gives some examples of what he means by habitual imperfections (those deformed dispositions that prevent us from responding fully and freely to the call to love). ¯ . . the common habit of loquacity; a small attachment one never really desires to conquer, for example, to a person, to clothing, to a book or a cell, or to .the way food is prepared, and to other trifling conversa-tions . Any of these habitual imperfections, and attachment to them, causes as much harm to an individual as ,would the daily commission of many other imperfections (AMC, I, 11, 4/97). Harsh as it may sound, St. John will not compromise his conviction that such an attachment, however trifling it ma~, seem, will make it impossible in the long run for one to progress in perfection. Something as simple as insisting on the same place in a church pew, and compelling others to crawl over one, can hinder the spiritual flight the saint is talking about. The point is: It makes little difference whether a bird is tied by a thin thread or by a cord. For even if tied by thread, the bird will be prevented from taking off just as surely as if it were tied by cold--that is, it ~vill be impeded from flight as long as it does not break the thread . This is the lot of a man who is attached to something: no matter how much virtue he has he will not reach the freedom of divine union (AMC, I, 11, 4/97). In one text after another, St. John comes back to this issue. How regret-table that a soul laded like a rich vessel with the wealth of good deeds, spiritual exercisesand virtues never leaves port because one lacks the courage to break the rope of a little satisfaction, attachment or affection. God gives them the power to sever other stronger cords while they cling to some childish act or thing God ask~ them to overcome for love of him. Not only do they fail to advance; they even turn back for so ,mething that amounts to no more than a thread or a hair. And, "Everyone knows that not to go forward on this road is to turn back, and not to gain ground is to lose." The goal of union demands that we do not stop on the road, but that we continually mortify our appetites rather than indulge them. For how can a log of wood be transformed into the fire if a single degree of heat is lacking to its prepa- The First Stage to Union ration? Similarly, itis St. John's contention that the soul "will not be trans-formed in God even if it has only one imperfection." This is so because a person has only one will, and if this is encumbered or occupied by any-thing, it will not possess the freedom, solitude and purity requisite for divine transformation. Complementing these clarifications from Chapter Eleven are a few of his Sayings of Light and Love, for example, Saying 23--"He who does not allow his appetites to carry him.away will soar in his spirit as swiftly as the bird that lacks no feathers" (668). Returning to the topic of the kinds of harm the appetites can cause in the soul, St. John explains, in regard to privative evil or the loss of grace, that only the voluntary appetites whose object may involve mortal sin can do this~completely--that is, deprive the soul of grace in this life, and glory, the possession of God, in the next. The positive evils (weariness, torment, blindness, defilement, weakness) correspond in general to a turning toward creatures, just as the privative involve an aversion from God. Naturally, the degree of harm depends on whether the appetite leads to mortal or venial sin, whether it is voluntary or semivoluntary. The harm. caused by each appe-tite can be direct or indirect. For example, vainglory positively harms the soul in all the ways mentioned, but it most principally darkens and blinds it. The point to keep in mind is that all these evils together oppose the acts of virtue, which generate the contrary and corrective effect. For example, a virtuous act produces in one mildness, peace, comfort, light, purity, and strength; an inordinate appetite brings with it torment, fatigue, and so on. In short: "Through the practice of one virtue all the virtues grow, and similarly, through an increase in one vice, all the vices and their effects grow" (AMC, I, 12, 5/100). Don't we all know from experience (think of that overstuffed feeling after a too rich meal) that "the appetite when satisfied seems .sweet and, pleasant, but eventually the sour effect is felt." We cannot avoid this basic truth that if and when we allow ourselves to be carried away by our appetites, the bitter effect of losing our-selves in vitalistic feelings or functionalistic preoccupations is inevitable. Such is not the case with the natural, involuntary appetites. Though disturbances in this realm may seem to defile one, the actual resistance of them has the opposite effect. In this struggle one wins strength, purity and many other blessings, for as our Lord told St. Paul: "Virtue is made perfect in weakness" (2 Co 12:9). Since, in conclusion, it is the voluntary appetites that bring on all these evils--and even more--the chief concern of spiritual directors with their directees ought to be the "immediate mortification of every appe-tite." Nothing less than this emptiness-will liberate them. We come now to the famous Chapter Thirteen of Book One of the Ascent in which St. John delineates some counsels pertaining to the active night 179 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 of the senses or how one can conquer and overcome voluntary appetites. Though one is doing what one can, this very action is dependent on the "already-thereness" of God's grace, prompting one to enter this night and thereby come "quickly" to the passive way in which God accomplishes this work in us. What is this "abridged method" that leads us from~nothing to everything, from emptiness to fullness, from renunciation to liberation, from being bound to soaring free? It proceeds in a series of steps, which we shall summarize here. 'First and foremost comes the habitual desire to imitate Christ in all of one's deeds. Nothing is more important on the way of perfection than bring-ing our lives into conformity with his. This being with the Christ form implies the ongoing reading (lectio continua) of the Scriptures together with their more concentrated study (lectio divina). Knowing him through his words and actions, we can better emulate his attitudes in our own situation, thus drawing our entire existence more and more into union and communion with his. It follows that to succeed in this imitation, we need to calm down and by and large renounce sensory satisfactions severed from that which gives honor and glory to God. We cannot do this on basis of willpower alone; our motivation must emerge not from fear but from our love of the Lord who came to show us how we are to go through him to the Father. His one desire in life was to fulfill the Father's will, which "he called his meat and food" (Jn 4:34). What does this decision mean concretely? The key resides in the phrase "do not desire," and it means do not desire to hear, . look upon, act, take pleasure in anything that is unrelated to the service and glory of God. St. John would never be against enjoying good music, if we have an ear for it, of appreciating the beauty of art or nature, or in delivering or hearing a moving sermon. What bothers him is our tendency to stop at this literal level instead of going through and beyond it to the transliteral, sacred mystery. One cannot help but experience satisfaction in these sensory goods. The important directive is not to desire the gratifica-tion as such but to desire the God who gratifies. By this method, we leave the senses, as it were, in darkness and, from the spiritual point of view, "gain a great deal in a short time." Such vigilance, perhaps understood as purity or singleness of heart, leads to the tranquilizing or harmonizing of the natural passions of joy, hope, fear, and sorrow--four emotions that constitute the basis of the active purga-tion of the will by love in Book III, Chapter Sixteen ff, of the Ascent. Here it is sufficient to present a few maxims that represent a first formula for pacifying these passions while practicing many virtues. Note here as well that what we are pacifying is the passion for (inordinate attachment to) satis- The First Stage to Union / 17'3 factions that are self-centered; expectations that are willful; anxieties rooted in our search for security; and depressions due to lack of control, and not having things go our way. Only if we understand this can we understand and accept as wise these well-known maxims: Endeavor to be inclined always: not to the easiest, but to the most difficult; not to the most delightful, but to the harshest; not to the most gratifying, but to the less pleasant; not to what means rest for you, but to hard work; not to the consoling, but to the unconsoling; not to the most, but to the least; not to the highest and most precious, but to the lowest and most despised; not to wanting something, but to wanting nothing; do not go about looking for the best of temporal things, but for the worst, and desire to enter into complete nudity, emptiness and poverty in everything in the world (AMC, 'I, 13, 6/102-103). This passage may seem life-denying, slightly masochistic, to say noth-ing of the impossibility of reaching or doing, if we overlook the crucial phrase at the beginning, which says "Endeavor to be inclined always . " This is the same as saying "Strive," "Try," "Foster the inclination" to develop that "sixth sense" that guides our call to be a true follower of Christ, which implies inevitably to deny ourselves and to take up our cross for his sake. As witnesses to the Gospel, we ought to be ever more proficient in detecting what in us operates on basis of the pride form and what in us gives assent to the Christ form. For did he not choose the "narrow way" that was, by human standards, most diffic.u~lt, harshest, less pleasant? Did he not work so hard to accomplish our salvation that he had nowhere on which to rest his head? Was his agony not unconsoling? Was he not numbered among the least of men? Among the most despised? What did he want except to fulfill the will of the Father? If this is true, and if we want to walk with him, then we too must practice the poverty of spirit by which he emptied himself and became like a slave for our sake. Thus in these counsels, St. John is indicating concretely how we are to accomplish the imitation of Christ. With his help, we can learn to embrace them earnestly and overcome the aversion we may feel toward them. By entering into nothingness, we enter into nothing-butness--for nothing but God will satisfy the heart that loves him. Such a life practiced with order and discretion (for these mortifications are means toward union, not union itself), enable us to live in faithfulness to our unique call to discipleship. What is easiest and what is most difficult depends, of course, on who we "174 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 are. It may be easiest for a research scientist not to spend tedious hours in his laboratory looking for formulas that will benefit human health when he would rather be on the golf course. Hence, what is difficult and done for Christ is to maintain his place in the lab, putting his God-given gifts to work. For another, the most difficult.may be to overcome his shyness and meet colleagues on the golf course, thus tempering his workaholic ten-dency and relaxing so he may be a better servant for the Lord. These decisions are dependent on the appraisal powers of our transcendent mind and will, but behind this appraisal stands the basic counsel, "Endeavor to be inclined always" to imitate Christ and to be ready to do what is most consonant with our call to radical discipleship. This commitment will inevitably lead us through the narrow way of the night of the senses, for we will have to die to the old, unredeemed, fleshy pride form, the "pride of life," as St. John calls it, for this "concupiscence" reigns in the world, as separated from God, and gives rise to all the appe-tites. Toward this pride form, we are to try to act with contempt, speak with contempt, and think with contempt. Nothing short of this radical rejec-tion of pride will ready us for radical discipleship. This contemptuous no is for the sake of a greater yes. We are saying no to formation ignorance, to its remote cause which is the pride form, and to its proximate causes, such as the immersion in vitalism, the escape in functionalism, the evasion of interformative responsibility. In saying no to the pride form, we are taking the first necessary step to combating demonic seduction (the deception that we are in charge of our destiny) and growing strong in Christ for the greater struggle to come in the dark night, where our only guide is faith. These counsels are thus an essential preliminary for formation freedom. For only if we desire nothing can we allow God to give us all. In summary, to mortify "the concupiscence of the flesh" means to ceas~ allowing the vital dimension of the life form to be a substitute for the tran-scendent. It means the end of downward transcendence. To mortify "the concupiscence of the eyes" means to cease allowing the functional dimension to dominate our existence with its penchant for envious competition and ego control. It means the end of horizontal transcendence. And, ultimately, to mortify "the pride of life" means to root out the source of our trouble and to pursue upward transcendence, in which the vital and functional spheres become servants of the ascent to God. Such are St. John's basic instructions for climbing to the summit, "the high state of union." Now perhaps we can understand and absorb with relief his concluding counsels., for if we read them properly, they will tell us to desire nothing in order to allow God to give everything. Thus: The First Stage to Union / 175 To reach satisfaction in all desir~e its possession in nothing. To come to possess all desire the possession of nothing. To arrive at being all desire to be nothing. To come to the knowledge of all desire the knowledge of nothing. To come to the pleasure you have not you must go by a way in which you enjoy not. To come to the knowledge you have not you must go by a way in which you know not. To come to the possession you have not you must go by a way in which you possess not. To come to be what you are not you must go by a way in which you are not. When you turn toward something you cease to cast yourself upon the All. For to go from all to the All you must deny yourself of all in all. And when you come to the possession of the all you must possess it without wanting anything. Because if you desire to have something in all your treasure in God is not purely your all. In this nakedness the spirit finds its quietude and rest. For in coveting nothing nothing raises it up and nothing weighs it down, because it is in the center of its humiliiy. When it covets something in this very desire it is wearied. What St. John is saying in these remarkable verses is that one will reach satisfaction in all, possession of~all, being all one desires, only if one desires nothing but God. One will know much in the knowledge and remembrance that one is no-thing. One is a child of God, emerging from him and returning to him--not an object of one's own pleasure or satisfaction, but his child, with all the dignity that one is afforded thereby. Thus if we want a pleasure higher than any vital stimulation, if we want an understanding greater than any reason can conclude, if we want to possess more than any collection of material or spiritual goods can yield, if we want to be who we most deeply are, then we must follow this narrow way of 176 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 enjoying what we don't know, of understanding One who is incomprehen-sible, of possessing what we can never fully own--for the divine mystery will ~ilways escape our urge to master it. Indeed, to be who we are we must go by this way in which our pride form is not, in which we are increasingly naughted, in which it is noI longer we who live but Christ who lives in us. Every time we turn toward some thing, person, or event as ultimate or absolute, we turn away from the Lord of all. We cease to cast ourselves upon his mercy, forgiveness, love. To go from the all (God's gifts every-where) to the All (God himself), we must deny ourselves of the All (God), that is, the illusion that the All can be found in or contained in all. God is beyond every little idol we try to create. And even when we possess him, we must do so in a letting-be attitude, without wanting anything but him as he reveals himself. Because if we desire to have something, for example, more consolations or signs of his love, then our treasure in God is not purely or wholly in him as our all, but only in his consolations. The more we reflect on this message, the more we discover that only in this nakedness, this emptiness of spirit, can the soul find its rest. In coveting, in desiring, nothing but God's will, one experiences real tranquil-lity. Whether in adversity or prosperity, whether in consolation or desola-tion, nothing raises one up and nothing weighs one down. It is a blessed state to live in the center of one's humility, to walk graciously in the truth of who one is. Coveting something produces the opposite effect: weariness and torment. For nothing can bring to rest our restless soul save union with God--and it is toward this union that St. John fires our love with urgent longings. Book One closes with two short chapters, which really provide a transi-tion to Book Two. The.phrase St. John comments upon points to the main effect of the active night of sense, namely, "Fired w.ith love's urgent long-ings." The result of this initial purgation of the appetites is a more intense enkindling of another love: a better love, the love of God above all else. The motivation for giving up these attachments must be neither fear of punishment nor the presumption of merit but the freedom, based on faith and love, tb choose a higher good. "By finding his satisfaction and strength in this love, a man will have the courage and constancy to deny readily all other appetites" (AMC, I, 14, 2/105). Such love is not static, but dynamic; it is a longing love. Since the sensory appetites are always in a state of "craving," spiritual desires must be fired with other more "urgent longings." Lacking this transcendence,dynamic, the soul will not be able to overcome the yoke of absolutized vital impulses and functional ambi-tions (what St. John calls the "yoke of nature"); nor will one be able to enter the first night of sense, and certainly one will not have the courage The First Stage to Union / 17"/ to live in the darkness of all things--not by rejecting them as such but by denying the desire for them as if they could provide the fulfillment God alone can offer. St. John will deal with these matters more fully in upcoming Books on the active night of the spirit (which will discuss the purification of our spiritual faculties, intellect, memory and will by, respectively, faith, hope, and love). At least to have passed through the night of the mortification of the senses, the night in which the house of self-will is stilled, is itself a "sheer grace." God's grace, his always active love, has released us already from this prison. But because of our fallenness, "flesh" is still subject to the passions and unruly appetites. To be liberated from this bondage in a way that is unimpeded by its enemies (world, flesh and devil) is for the soul an unspeakably wonderful grace. To achieve this liberation to the full, one must, so to speak, leave the Egypt of sensory satisfaction and cross the desert of spiritual deprivation. When the house of willful appe-tites is quieted through the mortification of sensuality, then the soul is free to walk in genuine freedom, enjoying union with the Beloved. It is to this next phase of renunciation for the sake of greater liberation that one must now turn, keeping in mind this saying of St. John's: "If you purify your soul of attachment to and desire for things, you will understand them spiritually. If you deny your appetite for them, you will enjoy their truth, understanding what is certain in them" (Sayings o fLight andLove, 46/671). *All quotations can be found in references by paragraph and page number. Collected ~'orks of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D., ICS Publications, Institute of Carmelite Studies, Washington, D.C. The Eucharist: Heart of Religious Community Susan Wood, S.C.L. Sister Susan Wood teaches theology at Saint Mary College (Leavenworth, Kansas 66048). This article is the fruit of her reflection in anticipation of her community's General Chapter last summer. As she writes, "Paradoxically, what may be most specific sometimes touches what is true universally." The daily celebration of the Eucharist is a focal point of our lives a source of our charity a fount of inspiration in our mission a sign and means of unity and nourishment. Constitution, #23 Today many sisters are asking whether we can continue to say that the Eucharist is a focal point of our lives. Quite simply, some say, for many of us our daily schedules prohibit a daily eucharistic celebration. Others question how the Eucharist can be expressive of unity in a situation where the worshipping community does not know one another. Still others wonder whether we should celebrate Eucharist at all if we find ourselves divided and still in need of reconciliation with one another. They remind us that Jesus said to leave our gift at the altar and be reconciled with our sister and brother before offering our gift. If we inquire further, we discover yet more serious roots of the current questioning of the place of the Eucharist in our religious lives. The Eucharist may appear to be a devotional practice which, while important, is somehow peripheral to other concerns which claim our energies. The real task that 178 The Eucharist: Heart of Community / 179 the question of the place of the Eucharist in our lives sets before us is the identification of what constitutes the center of our common life. Is our service of the poor our focal point? Is our common life? Does the inspiration for our religious adaptation and reform repose in fundamentally non-sacramental realities such as community, authority, Chapter enactments, the Constitution, our apostolates, our charism? Or can we say that our sacramental life is our center, and that all these important, but non-sacramental, aspects of our life are means rather than ends in themselves. That is, they are the means of extending and making concrete and specific the sacramental reality which first defines our life together. These pages cannot solve the problems of conflicting schedules; nor do they pretend to offer a complete theology of the Eucharist. They do propose, however, to examine some connections between the Eucharist and religious community. It is only after we grasp this connection that we will be equipped to address the more concrete questions concerning our daily eucharistic celebration. Religious Life: An Ecclesial Life The basis for the connection between the Eucharist and religious com-munity is, first, the relationship between religious life and the Church and, second, the close association between the sacraments of baptism and Eucharist. The first presupposition is that religious life is fundamentally ecclesial. More than simply a manner of living within the Church, religious life is directly oriented to the Church. This is evident within our own tradition when we recall St. Vincent de Paul's description of the Daughters of Charity as "daughters of the Church." The ecclesial character of religious consecra-tion is further evident in its sacramental foundation, baptism. In baptism we are incorporated into the body of Christ and his Church and our religious life is an attempt to live out the implications of our baptism, and thus this incorporation, in a radical way. As a radical living out of the baptismal commitment, religious life is equally a living out of our identity as ecclesial women. This theology appears in our Constitution where we state: As Christians united personally by baptism to Jesus Christ and to his body, the Church, the Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth . . . are women who view baptism as the most significant event in our lives and who have responded freely to the Divine call to express this consecration more fully by profession of the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience lived in apostolic and communal love (Constitution, n. 3). The decree of the Second Vatican Council, Perfectae Caritatis, refers Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 to this ecclesial~orientation when it urges religious to "more and more live and think with the Church," and "dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to its mission (n. 6).'.' If our unity as a Church is the unity in the Spirit of the body of Christ, and if our identity as religious women is inseparable from 0u¢ identity as ecclesial women, then it follows that the source of our unity is radically identical with that of the Church. In other words, our unity is baptismal and eucharistic. From this close association between religious and ecclesial life, it follows that the relationship between the Eucharist and religious community will be analogous to that between the Eucharist and the Church. The Unity of Baptism and Eucharist The second theological presupposition is that baptism and Eucharist are intrinsically related. Consequently, if religious life is a radical living of the baptismal commitment, it is no less a eucharistically centered life. The Eucharist is not simply that which we receive when we come together as the Church. Nor is it primarily a celebration of who we are as a believing community. The Church does not exist prior to the Eucharist, but is formed and created by it. This may appear at first as paradoxical, for in a sense a minister and community are necessary for the celebration of the sacrament. One may also object that the Christian community is formed by baptism rather than the Eucharist. This, however, ~eparates the sacraments of initia-tion when they should instead be seen as a unity. Baptism is indeed incorpora-tion into the Church, but the culmination or fulfillment of the sacraments of initiation, and thus baptism, is the Eucharist. Initiation into the Church is incomplete without the reception of the Eucharist which is incorporation into the historical body of Christ sacramentally present in our world. This is evident in the rite of initiation in the Eastern Church where baptism, confir-mation and Eucharist are conferred within the same ceremony. Baptism and the Eucharist.are closely associated, first, because both are intrinsically related to Christ's Paschal Mystery. In the Eucharist we proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes (1 Co 11: 26). In the eucharistic sacrifice the victory and triumph of Christ are again made present (Sacrosanctum Concilium, I. 6). In baptism we are plunged into the Paschal Mystery of Christ, die with him to sin, are buried with him, and rise with him to a new life in Christ (Rm 6:4; Ep 2:6; Col 3:1; 2 Tm 2:11). Second, both baptism and the Eucharist are means of incorporation into the body of Christ. The text of 1 Co 12:12-13 makes this clear regarding baptism: Just as a human body, tho.ugh it is made up of many parts, is a single unit because all these parts, though many, make one body, so it is with Christ. The Eucharist: Heart of Community In the one Spirit we were all baptized, Jews as well as Greeks, slaves as well as citizens, and one Spirit was given to us all to drink. It is precisely as members of Christ's body that we share in his death and resurrection through baptism (Rm 6: 3-4). The Eucharist is a further means of participation in the body of Christ as is evident in 1 Co 10: 16-17: The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread. In the final analysis, therefore, we are incorporated in Christ by both baptism and the Eucharist, the principal reason why they are both considered sacraments of initiation. Initiation into the Church differs from initiation into human societies precisely because it is sacramental. This means not only that through the sign of the sacrament we are initiated into membership in the body of Christ, but that this union with Christ is really achieved now, and is itself a sign of the final eschatological union that all the blessed will share with Christ and with one another. The Eucharist is causative of the Church because the unity of the Church is not that of an aggregate of individuals, a collectivity which exists prior to or independently of Christ, but the unity of a body. In the Eucharist we are nourished by the body and blood of Jesus Christ, and, being vivified by that body, we become one. Consequently, the unity of the Church does not exist metaphysically prior to or apart from its union with and incorporation in Christ. To grasp this profound interconnection between the Church and the Eucharist requires that we think sacramentally rather than according to the categories of human societies and organizations. The temptation throughout history has been to pattern the Church according to the models of society current at the time--in our day the democratic model. The Mystery in which we are invited to participate transcends merely human structures. An example of the shift required in our perception is that while that which we eat is normally transformed into our own flesh and blood, in the sacrament we. are assimilated to Christ, not he to us. The unity of the Church is not a moral unit~, sustained by the good will and cooperation of those consenting to be united, but rather is the unity created on the initiative of Christ who offers us the New Covenant. The Ecclesial Dimension of the Eucharist We believe that sacraments are efficacious signs of God's grace. Therefore we believe that what is signed by the sacrament achieves its effect in us both Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 individually and communally. The sign of the Eucharist is our partaking of Christ's body, efficaciously signified by the bread and wine. Sacramental realism assures us that that which is both signed and effected is our union with Christ, and, as 1 Co 10 indicates~ our union with one another. In tradi-tional eucharistic theology this effect of the Eucharist has been- called the res tantum, and is none other than the unity of the ecclesial body, the Church. This unity is the union of the members with their head, Christ. Since the middle of the twelfth century, largely in response to the eucharistic controversy involving Berengarius, eucharistic theology has fre-quently concentrated on eucharistic realism. Great care has been exerted to emphasize the fact that Christ is really and truly present in the Eucharist. While this truth is of incomparabl~ worth within eucharistic theology, the care to correct a heretical eucharistic theology led to the neglect of the ecciesial dimension of the sacrament. A eucharistic piety that focuses too narrowly and exclusively on the real presence often misses the ecclesial signification of the sacrament, as well as its context within salvation history. The Eucharist in addition to and precisely because it is the sacramental presence of Christ within history is anamesis (remembrance) as well as antici-pation. As remembrance it is the representation of the sacrifice of Christ as well as the fulfillment of the typological prefigurations of Christ's sacrifice in the Old Testament. As anticipation it looks ahead to the final eschato-logical union of all the blessed with Christ at the end time. The final union of the members of Christ with their head is what St. Augustine called the "whole Christ." Thus the Eucharist is an instance of what theologians call "realized eschatology." That is, that which will be complete at the end time eschatologically is already present in a real, but incomplete form. We are really united with Christ now in the present time, but this union prefigures a complete union for which we work, pray, and wait. In a similar manner, we are really sacramentally united with one another, but our unity is still imperfect. Concrete Consequences of a Eucharistic Ecclesiology Once this is seen, certain corollaries become evident. First, the referent of the sacrament, that is, that which it signs, is both the Christ who died, rose and ascended to the Father as well as the eschatological union of all the blessed with Christ. Thus the sacrament effects this union in the present, but its ultimate referent transcends the present as it anticipates this final union. This means that the primary referent of the Eucharist is not the immanent worshipping community or exclusively the presence of the Christ within the community. The Eucharist is not a celebration of unity achieved apart from our union with Christ and prior.to the Eucharist, but effects The Eucharist: Heart of Community / 183 and anticipates that for which we hope as Christians--final, irrevocable union in Christ. This means that we do not wait until we experience perfect union before we approach the Eucharist. If a community stands in need of reconcilia-tion, it should indeed work so that it is in fact what it proclaims itself to be in word, namely, Christian community. However, just as we do not save ourselves but ask for salvific grace, so our reconciliation is not entirely our work but something worked within us by the grace of God with our cooper-ation. The Eucharist is not only a sign of unity, but effects unity and recon-ciliation; Secondly, the community which gathers for eucharistic worship is not required to be an intimate, homogeneous group. The universality of the kingdom of God, the body of Christ, indicates that those ecclesial communities which most accurately reflect the universal vocation to union with God may be the most diverse of groups, often anonymous, where faith in our common vocation transcends the diversity of races, nations and walks of life. This does not me.an that we should not work for a more ideal realization of como munity but rather that such an ideal should not become a prior condition of eucharistic worship. Third, although in the Eucharist we receive the sacramental presence of Christ, the primary focus of the sacrament is communal rather than indi-vidual. We approach the Eucharist as a Christian community who celebrates the great things the Lord has done for us in his life, death and rising. The Eucharist as anamesis, that is, remembrance, sacramental presence and pledge of our. future hope, reminds us that we are a people in the midst of the history of God's salvific plan for us. This communal and historical focus of the sacrament is the primary reason why communion services can never be an adequate substitute for the celebration of the Eucharist. These services, even under the best of circumstances, emphasize the individual's reception of the sacramental presence of Christ rather than the community's immersion in salvation history with its celebration of a past event sacramentally present, itself a sign of a future reality. The Eucharist is properly word and sacra, ment, the sacrament representing more than the presence of Christ's body and blood. It is also the presence of that sacrifice which renders that body and blood efficacious for our salvation. Objective vs. Subjective Meaning of the Eucharist One of the problems today is that we may~be confusing "meaning" with "meaningfulness." The first is an objective category while the second is s~ubjective. When we experience the liturgy as dull and lifeless, apparently divorced from the rest of our lives, we are tempted to say that it has "lost Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 meaning" for us. In this instance what we really mean is that it has ceased to be meaningful. The Eucharist obviously has not lost its objective meaning as the sacramental presence of Christ within human history, as the Christian community's remembrance and representation of Christ's salvific death and rising, as an efficacious sign of our future union in Christ. Our experience, therefore, is more of a statement about ourselves than about the objective meaning of what takes place at our eucharistic liturgy. It is a statement 6f our inability to consciously live and celebrate what we believe, of the incongruity between our life as a Christian community and what the Eucharist calls us to be as a community. Indeed, we may experience fragmentation, boredom and disunion but this experience is a call to recon-ciliation, a call to approach the altar once again so that that which we cele-brate liturgically may be integral with the whole of our life, a call to pray for a more lively faith. It is likewise a call to contribute our best efforts so that our liturgical prayer, through sign and symbol, awakens, fortifies and expresses our faith. Even though it is a mistake to confuse meaning with meaningfulness, we are not excused from the efforts necessary for good liturgical celebration, including personal prayer and reading of Scripture as well as the more proxi-mate preparations of celebrants, musicians and artists. Sacraments are signs, and signs are of their nature human, subject to expressing more or less adequately what they signify. The liturgical renewal enjoined by Vatican II calls for a more active participation on the part of the faithful so that the liturgy can be the "outstanding means by which the faithful can express ~n their love, and manifest to others, the mystery of Christ and the real nature of the true Church" (Sacrosanctum Concilium, n. 2). Within eucharistic theology there exists an objective and subjective di-mension of the sacrament. Traditionally this has been referred to as the opus operatum, the work effected by Christ, and the opus operantis. This latter term originally referred to the disposition of the celebrant. The dis-tinction between the two terms explained how a Mass celebrated by a priest in a state of serious sin was still valid although not spiritually fruitful for him. Recent writers have extended the meaning of opus operantis to refer to the cooperation with and active reception of grace by the believer. In the opus operatum, the objective element of the sacrament, we are assured that Christ is really present. In the second, the subjective element, we receive grace, and the sacrament is "fruitful" with our growth in faith, hope and charity. The question of meaning vs. meaningfulness can, in part, be expressed as the relation between the objective reality of the sacrament, the opus oper-atum, and the subjective disposition of the recipient, the opus operantisl The Eucharist: Heart of Community Our sacramental celebrations may appear arid when the ecclesial reality of the sacrament does not find expression in a renewed commitment to Christ and his Church. Some writers, including Karl Rahner, discuss the frequency of eucharistic celebration with reference to the opus operantis, saying that this frequency should be governed by the conditions which make it possible for us to receive the sacrament fruitfully, with conscious faith and the psychic energy necessary to enter subjectively into that which we celebrate objectively. Two extremes are to be avoided. First, within the context of the communal character of the Eucharist, it is obvious that it is not question of increasing grace by multiplying the number of eucharistic celebr.ations one attends. This not only emphasizes the individual rather than the com-munal nature of the Eucharist, but it also quantifies grace, distorting its primarily relational character. However, it is equally a mistake to expect each 0"f our eucharistic celebrations to be a peak religious experience. An excessive emphasis on our preparation and readiness for the Eucharist makes it our work rather than God's gift and action on. us. In the Eucharist we are invited once again to enter into the New Covenant. Within the vicissitudes of our life we need to be invited to this oft~en, perhaps even daily. The Lord's Prayer provides,us with the model for the dailiness of our eucharistic celebration for when we ask for our daily bread, this is no less than the Bread of Life. However, this emphasis on the ideal of a daily celebration need be neither slavish nor mechanistic. The essential is to realize that the Eucharist is truly the sacramental focal point of our reli-gious life together. Once this is realized and lived, the frequency of our eucharistic celebration will not be so much a question of legislation as that which is truly possible within our individual circumstances and the expression of who we are as ecclesial women. The relationship between Eucharist and religious community is parallel to the relationship between the Church and the Eucharist. Within ecclesiology today there are many theologies competing with a eucharistic ecclesiology. The search for relevance and liberation has prompted dialogue on what con-stitutes salvatio.n, whether it represents liberation from oppressive societal structures and/or whether it is more properly a release from the bondage of sin. Much of what is good within this discussion represents a healthy correction of the excessive individualism which has plagued us since the Enlightenment. An excessive emphasis on intra-worldly goals of this liberation is now being cort~ected within a broader vision of the drama of sin and grace in the world. That these same tensions are reflected in religious life is no accident since religious life is fundamentally ecclesial. In many ways a religious commu-nity is a microcosm of the larger Church. Within this perspective it is not "186 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 sufficient that we pray together, serve the poor and live a common life, We can do all these things without being a religious community. Although our charism is to serve the poor, our primary identity is not that of the social worker. Furthermore, there are times when the non-sacramental aspects of our life lead us away from our true identity as a religious community. For instance, we may become excessively work-orierited. While work for the kingdom is praiseworthy, a certain attitude distorts our work so that it becomes something which we undertake, initiate. Our events replace the Christ event. Communal efforts become our action rather than God's action on us, and the Eucharist becbmes a devotional practice rather than the most fundamental expression of the reality of our lives. The Eucharist is the heart of religious community because it is the histor-ical presence of the New Covenant which unites that community with its Lord. Our primary identity is to be a eucharistic community in union with Christ. Our service of others then flows as a consequence of what the Eucharist means--as a response of thankfulness for what the Lord has done for us, as the service modeled by. Christ at the Last Supper, as a means of facilitating the union of all in Christ. It is then that we can truly say that the Eucharist is the focal point of our lives. Good Friday, April 1, 1983 Gently running, delicate raindrops--spring rain as tears from the windows of my soul. The clear-paned pain allows me to glimpse the promise of life within the dry earth, within myself. Suffering and tears stir tender blossoms deep inside. They struggle to break through the crusty-hard shell, to lift themselves to the long-promised warmth of the loving Son. Sister Mary Therese Macys, S.S.C. 2601 W. Marquette Road Chicago, Illinois 60629 Learning from the Worldly Leo D. Davis, S.J. Father Davis, a member of the Jesuits' Oregon Province, presently resides in Italy, where he may be addressed: Via Spaventa, 4; 50129 Firenze,: Italy. "For the worldly are more astute than the other worldly in dealing with their own kind" (Lk 16:8). Desperate for American reading material while in a foreign country, ] dipped recently into one of the national best sellers of a few years .back, Peters and Waterman's In Search of Excellence: Lessons from America's Best-Run Companies (New York: Warner °Books, 1982). Though not ordi-narily a reader of business literature, I found the book absorbing, not as a study of American business success, but as an indication of why many religious institutes, including my own, fail specifically as organizations to reach their goals. Of course, we religious are not primarily in business: auxiliary to our main purposes we do run businesses. These auxiliary enter-prises, however, are not my concern in this article. Rather, I'm interested in how we organize and conduct ~urselves in spreading the Word of God and serving our neighbor. Can we learn from successful business con-cerns how to do this better? I I~ave it to the readers themselves to judge after considering Peters and Waterman's findings. The two studied sixty-two corporations in the fields of high tech-nology, consumer goods, services, industrial supplies, management and resources. They wanted to discover just what makes these firms leaders in their fields. They found that all agree on an eight point philosophy in doing business. Contr'~ry to what one might expect from business men out to make a 187 11~8 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 buck, the authors argue that hardheaded rationality is not enough to suc-ceed. International Telephone and Telegraph, for example, was managed in a rigidly national fashion, and failed. The war in Vietnam was largely run from the Pentagon by Robert McNamara's Ford Company technical "whiz kids," and we all know the outcome. Mere technique however sophisticated, won't do the trick. Planning, long and short range, is needed, but planning can often become an end in itself. Of three hundred twenty-five planning task forces studied, none had yet finished its task after three years of work. Task forces, the authors suggest, should be small, limited in time, volun-tary, and contain some senior staff. Their work should call for no addi-tional staff and produce a minimum of documentation. Follow-up on their recommendations should be swift. Paper shuffling among executives and back and forth between executives and managers can stifle all action. Analysis can lead to . paralysis. Gamesmanship and contention in committees replace action. As one executive commented, it is easier to develop a negative argument f~r doing nothing than to advance a constructive one which issues in action. The authors argue that major concerns should be dealt with one at a time. More than two objectives for a task force mean no objectives at all. There should be constant communication, constant keeping in touch with the realities and persons involved in decisions. Communications should be short and clear; the authors cite the famous practice of Procter and Gamble in restricting all memoranda to a single page. Chaotic action is preferable to no action at all. Experimentation and testing ideas in prac-tice is better than just talking about problems. Get people acting and they solve their problems, and come to believe in what they're doing. Close to the Customer As religious, we're not, as such, selling goods to customers, but we are dealing with people. What are the needs, tastes, preferences of those with whom we deal? Are we willing to put ourselves out for others? The successful companies know their clientele and go to great lengths to serve them. Thomas Watson of International Business Machines had a simple philosophy: We want to give the best customer service of any company in the world. He guaranteed answering any customer complaint in twenty-four hours. Caterpillar Tractors guarantees forty-eight hour service to any country of the world. Frito-Lay aims at a 99.5 percent rate of service in peddling their products; they will spend several hundred dollars to restock a remote store with thirty dollars worth of potato chips. But their reputa-tion for reliability in the end outweighs the short term costs. I'm reminded Learning from the Worldly of an old priest colleague of mine who was preaching to the coffee room audience on service; when a telephone call interrupted him, he told the caller to see him during office hours--and continued his harangue with no sense of incongruity. The Disney people realize what service means; sixteen-year old ticket takers at Disneyland are put through four eight-hour days of training just so they can take tickets with the Disney elan. McDonald's scores of billions of hamburgers are sold by insistence on cleanliness, efficient ser-vice, uniform quality and reliability. Burgers not sold ten minutes after cooking are thrown out; french fries, after seven minutes; and their cashiers are taught to have eye contact with the customers. The authors give an example of the extraordinary lengths to which some companies will go. When a woman complained about a foul-up with a discount air ticket, she wrote to the president of Delta Airlines. The president of the corporation himself met her at the airport and per-sonally presented her with a new ticket. All these companies stress quality. McDonald's, with seven thousand restaurants doing 2.5 billion dollars worth of business annually, tell their stockholders: Quality is the first word in McDonald's motto. Digital Com-puter's philosophy states: "Growth is not our principal goal. Our goal is to be a quality organization and'do a quality job, which means that we will be proud of our work and products for years to come. As we achieve quality, growth will come as a result." There's food for thought here for religious experiencing a decline in vocations. The lonely Maytag serviceman of the TV ads is a symbol of the company's guarantee of ten years' trouble-free operation of any machine. Hewlett-Packard is obsessed with quality; ask them about personnel, they talk quality; ask about sales, they talk quality; ask about management, they talk quality. The president of Heineken Beer says bluntly, "I consider a bad bottle of Heineken a personal insult to me." Until recently, the eighty-two-year-old founder of Marriott Hotels read every complaint card personally. Productivity Through People All members of an organization should be made aware that their best efforts are essential to success and that they will share in that success. Here again we religious in the ranks are not mere employees in the ministries of our institutes. In fact, many times we might be better off in some of America's best companies than at the hands of some religious superiors. One executive complained to the authors: People issues take up all my time. To them he was really saying that his business would be easy to run if it weren't for people. But corporations, like religious institutes, 190 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 are people. Those who work in them should be treated as adults and as partners, with dignity and respect. This doesn't mean that they be mollycoddled; they should be given reasonable and clear expectations, and practical autonomy to get the job done. In a study of school teachers, the authors point out it was found that when they held high expectations of their students, that alone was enough to cause an increase of twenty-five points in the students' IQ scores. Workers should understand what is being done and why. Peters and Waterman quote Admiral Zumwalt's method of reorganizing Navy prac-tices: What I tried hardest to do was ensure that every officer and sailor on the ship not only knew what we were about, not only why we were doing each tactical operation, however onerous, but also managed to understand enough about how it all fitted together so that they began to experience some of the fun and challenge that those of us in the top slot were having. 1 knew from experience the impact of treating sailors like the mature adults they were. Dedicated religious women and men deserve no less. Communication between superiors and ranks cannot be mere lip ser-vice, mere gimmicks, but must be a sincere effort to make all really part of the team. Sam Walton has built a company from eighteen to three hun-dred thirty stores, with sales rising from forty-five million dollars, to 1.6 billion dollars and the process made his family the richest in the United States. He always calls his employees "associates." "The key is to get out and hear what the associates have to say," he states. "It's terribly important for everyone to get involved." For him this is not lip service: one sleepless night he went down to the loading dock with four dozen donuts and talked to his "associates." He learned that they needed two more shower stalls in the wash room--and they got them. This is a sur-prising degree of concern in an executive running a 1.6 billion dollar com-pany. Again, when Thomas Watson first took over IBM, he was not out to shake up the company by wholesale transfers and firings, but to buff and polish those already in place so their performance would improve; his bone-deep belief, says his son, was respect for the individual. Peters and Waterman suggest some simple rules iia the treatment of workers: all important communication should be face to face; there should be opportunity for career education; there should be security in their posi-tions. Superiors should be accessible to all, their doors always open. Finally, there should be incentives. "A man wouldn't sell his life to Learning from the Worldly you, but he would give it to you for a piece of colored ribbon," says a war correspondent about soldiers in World War lI. The best corporations go to extraordinary lengths to reward good performance, creating oppor-tunities for showering pens, badges, buttons and medals on their people. At Mars Candy everyone on time for work during the week gets a ten percent bonus; IBM has a "gold circle" for top salespersons; Tupperware senior management spend thirty days a year at "jubilees" for outstanding performers; one company even puts gold stars on a public bulletin board after the names of those who don't miss work. Religious might well feel out of place in an atmosphere like this. Indeed, our vocation is not to look for rewards but to dedicate ourselves to the selfless service of God and neighbor. But superiors, on their side, should be aware of the value of incentives; nothing is more powerful than positive reinforcement. This, the authors advise, should be specific, tan-gible and frequent. They point to a model of motivation in a Procter and Gamble executive who, red in the face and vehement, told a Stanford University seminar: "Just because the product is toilet paper doesn't mean that Procter and Gamble doesn't make it a damn sight better than anyone else." The executive, he continues, is called to help fulfill the individ-ual's search to transcend himself or herself, to avoid isolation and the fear of helplessness, to give people a sense of being, in control of their des-tiny. High performance is based on intrinsic motivations: people must believe that a task is inherently worthwhile if they are to be committed to it. All this to sell toilet paper! Hands On, Value Driven Management The authors insist that the successful executive keeps in close touch not only with personnel but with the firm's essential business. Again Thomas Watson of IBM: "I believe the real difference between success and failure in a corporation can very often be traced to the question of how well the organization brings out the great energies and talents of its people . I firmly believe that any organization, in order to survive and achieve success, must have a sound set of beliefs on which it premises all its policies and actions. Next, I believe that the most important single factor in corporate success is faithful adherence to those beliefs. And, finally, I believe if an organization is to meet the challenge of a changing world, it must be prepared to change everything about itself except those beliefs . " The institutional leader is primarily an expert in the promotion and protection of values. The basic values: a belief in being the best; in the "" "109 / Review for Reiigious, March-April, 1987 importance of the details of execution; in the importance of people as indi-viduals; in superior quality and service; in supporting innovation and tolerating failure. The effective leader must be a master of two ends of the spectrum--ideas at the highest level and actions at the most mundane levels of detail. The top performers create a broad, uplifting, shared: cul-ture, a coherent framework within which charged up people search for appropriate adaptations. The real leader does' not force others to submit and follow him by the sheer overwhelming magic of his personality. He is influential in inspiring and strengthening them; he arouses confidence. Success in instilling values appears to have little to do with charismatic personality. Rather it derives from obvious, sincere, sustained personal commitment to the values the leader seeks to implant, coupled with extraordinary persistence in reinforcing these values. Hewlett- Packard advises its executives to wander around, being approachable, accessible, listening, keeping people informed. Others advise: don't summon people to your office; go see them. Kill grimness with laughter; maintain an atmosphere of informality; encourage exuberance. Without such hands on management, it seems nothing much happens. Stick to the Knitting By this Peters and Waterman mean, "Remain with the business you know best." Organizations that do branch out but stick close to their orig-inal purpose outperform others. Successful companies enter only those businesses that build on, draw strength from, and enlarge some central area of competence. ITT began as an international telephone company, but the tools that it took to run a phone company in Chile didn't help much in the management of newly acquired Continental Baking and Sheraton Hotels. The result was that ITT had to sell off thirty-three busi-nesses. The lesson is never acquire a business you don't know how to run. Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing, makers of Scotch tape, make fifty thousand other products and introduce one hundred new ones each year, but all is built around its central coating-and~bonding technology. Procter and Gamble is good at soap, but Pringles' potato chips, machined to uniform size in a neat box, is an apparent failure from the standpoint of consumer taste. Simple.Form, Lean Staff The authors are passionate advocates of clear, simple structural organization so that everyone knows to which boss to report. Some staff gain power by keeping everything vague and unclear. Outlaws can use the lack of clarity to their own advantage and to the detriment of the whole. Learning from the Worldly / 193 With simple organization, fewer staff are needed at headquarters to make things work. Emerson Electric, with fifty-four thousand personnel, has one hundred in corporate headquarters; Dava Industries, with thirty-five thousand, has one hundred; Schlumberger, an oil service company with six billion dollars worth of business annually, has ninety cprporate staff. The Society of Jesus in its headquarters in Rome has ninety-five on the corporate staff for only 25,500 personnel. The story goes around Jesuit circles that at one time our largest province had more departmental provincials than first year novices. "Less is more" in corporate manage-hment, say Peters and Waterman. Simultaneous Loose-Tight Properties By this the authors mean fostering a climate in which there is dedica-tion to the central values of the company combined with tolerance for all employees who accept these values. The central values must be carefully fostered and protected, yet autonomy, entrepreneurship and innovation should flourish among the rank and file. The discipline of shared values provides the framework for all the rest. It gives people confidence to exper-iment stemming from stable expectations of what really counts. Too much overbearing discipline kills autonomy but the discipline of shared values encourages innovation. Rules should reinforce positive traits and not just discourage negative ones. The company should offer meaning, provide guiding belief, create a sense of excitement, a sense of being part of the best, a sense of producing something of quality that is valued. Basic .values should be set in concrete, and executed by attention to mundane, nitty-gritty details. Every hour, everyday is an opportunity to act in sup-port of overarching themes. A lively sense of realism enforces tight disci-pline; the attention to the desires and needs of the clientele is the most stringent means of self-discipline. Autonomy and Entrepreneurship Tight discipline and preservation of basic values should not interfere with a stress on innovation, and a tolerance of failure for those who fail in the pursuit of innovation. Some companies support "skunk works" where the talented mavericks of the business brainstorm and experiment. All of this must be coupled with constant communication and the dogged persistence of innovators to put their ideas across. Interestingly enough, physical proximity is vital in this communica-tion. The authors point out that people working thirty feet apart meet each other only eight to nine percent of the time, while those working only fif-teen feet apart meet twenty-five percent of the time. They maintain that 194 / Roview for Religious, March-April, 1987 the best companies do their work in large, self-contained, campus-like headquarters outside the city. What does all this add up to? What I've tried to say in a modern idiom and detail drawn from actual studies is only what St. Paul told his Corinthians: "You know (do you not?) that at sports all the runners run the race, though only one wins the prize. Like them, run to win! But every athlete goes into strict training. They do it to win a fading wreath; we, a wreath that never fades" (1 Co 9:24-25). The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Add ress: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Modern Media and the Religious Sense of Community Matthias Neuman, O.S.B. Father Neuman is well known to our readers. His last article in these pages was entitled "Personality and Religious Adjustments in Older Candidates" (May/June, 1986). Father Neuman continues to teach at St. Meinrad Seminary; St.Meinrad, Indiana 47577. Back in the sixth century St. Benedict, in his Rule, included a short chap-ter on "The Proper Amount of Drink." To modem ears some of its sug-gestions may seem mildly humorous, yet in context a radical practicality pervades the .thought of this monastic genius. We read that monks should not drink wine at all, but since the monks of our day cannot be convinced of this, let us at least agree to drink mod-erately and not to the point of excess, for wine makes even the ffise to go astray.' Were this same St. Benedict composing a rule for a religious order of the late twentieth century it is quite likely he would feel the need to insert a chapter on "The Proper Amount of Watching Television" with similar suggestions and pleas .for moderation. For few would be the reli-gious men and women today who would agree that they should avoid all television. This article treats some of the background issues which would lead to that hypothetical modern chapter on the proper amount of television. Actually the topic goes far beyond television to include all manner of modem electronic media: radio, stereo systems, cassette players, tele-phones, VCRs and, most recently, computers (can spiritual video games be far behind'?). What religious house is there that has not felt the inva- 195 Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 sion of this technology? What communities today do not admit into for-mation programs young people shaped by a high-intensity media culture? The electronic media have, for better or worse, become part of the ethos of life in twentieth-century America. My basic premise suggests that the presence of these media has influ-enced the communal shape of religious community life far more drastically than we may initially surmise. Surely the use of such media affect common schedules (viewing a late "Special" on some current event) and budgets ("Our office must have a computer!"). Beyond these surface impacts the involvement with media slowly but surely has shifted our very sense of what community means and how we associate as social persons. To media theorists one of the major human effects of all cultural media, and particularly electronic media, is to create a very specific and delimited realization of "being together," a style of how people gather and interact.'- For example, television gathers people physically, but focuses their communal attention outwardly and away from the people around them. Relentlessly sustained participation in such media experi-ences will alter slowly the way one interacts and responds in all situa-tions. Television creates an instant community which passively watches. As an interesting sidelight, when television first began to be widely commercial in the 1950s the leading American theorist on communica-tions flatly predicted that it would never be a success because "people would have to sit in a dark room and ignore each other." One might wonder how far that attitude has affected our religious sense of com-munity? Other entertainment media besides television reinforce this psy-chological separation or distancing from one's immediate surroundings and relationships. Cassettes and stereos supply individual, isolated encoun-ters with music and detached thoughts. Now with portable stereo and ear-phones we can eat, recreate, shop or work, and clearly advertise that we wish no personal contact with anyone immediately around us. The tele-phone brings instant contact over worldwide distances; we start to belong to a global network embracing an incredibly wide range of personal connections. Without our being that aware, these daily immersions into media experience adjust our expectations of personal relationships. In par-ticular they change the way we are involved with the people immediately around us. The previous issue is a critical one for vowed religious who have a spiritual stake in the meaning and practice of community life. According to the Church's law, participation in community is essential for one to be considered a religious by the Church;3 in contemporary theology the for- Modern Media and Community mation of authentic community is praised as a preeminent goal of Chris-tian life and ministry; and in many modern forms of spirituality the very notion of community inclines toward the realizing of the Trinitarian mys-tery of God.4 But with the arrival of the electronic community we had better stop and take a careful look at what precise actions are implied in the linguistic usage of "community jargon." Under the surface we may find a clash of world views taking place, a clash that undermines real com-munity, an undermining that gnaws away in the midst of people busily doing their daily work, living their lives, and talking incessantly about community as an important aspect of their lives. A brief comparison of these contrasting world views of community might focus our reflections. The ancient notion of "religious" com-munity, as traditionally used of the Church as a whole or of particular vowed communities, rested on a conviction of human solidarity borrowed from the goals, structures and attitudes of a close-knit, agrarian, craft-based or familial society. Community here meant the composite of ways that people lived, worked, prayed and played together. The goal of such sustained daily interaction was communal solidarity, mutual commitment, the sharing of hopes and values in a communality of life. The structures which embedded those goals aimed at a slow, patient, day-by-day, elbow-by- elbow building up of emotional bonds and support systems. Just as one learned to love in familially-arranged marriages, so one learned to be a member of a vowed community by the shaping of common intentions formed through daily work and prayer. These community goals and struc-tures depended on social routines of living that stressed the physical prox-imity and sharing of participants over the long haul of life. This religious vision of community was a prize to be won through sustained work and prayer. The concluding words of the Prologue to the Rule of St. Benedict exemplify perfectly this ancient vision: Therefore we intend to establish a school for the Lord's service. In draw-ing up its regu!ations, we hope to set down nothing harsh, nothing bur-densome. The good of all concerned, however, may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and to s~ifeguard love. Do not be daunted immed!.ately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. It is bound to be narrow at the outset. But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God's commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love. Never swerving from his instructions, then, but faithfully observ-ing his teaching in the monastery until death, we shall through patience share in the sufferings of Christ that we may deserve also to share in his kingdom.5 1911 Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 How divergent appears the community of the electronic mindset! It presents instantaneous intentions drawn from anywhere in the world, and on any topic, from far bey6nd the gathered viewers, and its heightened visual intensity etches those intentions into the awareness of participants. Electronic media joins the viewers automatically to a national and world community. The communal intentions that bind us here are all given by what the media chooses to focus on and present. The solidarity of the elec-tronic community does not flow from a patient and lengthy building up of common intentions, but,from the impulsive response to instantaneously given themes. It is a fragile solidarity indeed. Its communality depends on intensity to maintain interest. (So it must deal with a topic ever more heatedly-~or find a new topic.) And media are powerfully effective! By themselves the media constitute a very real and engaging psychological support system. Any individual can retire to the privacy of his or. her room and by means of TV, radio or stereo be in touch with any particular psychological input (to soothe, to excite, to reinforce love, to wal,low in nostalgia). It is a support system that dispenses with flesh and blood people. It is instant electronic community, and is radically different from the older notion of religious community founded on agrarian, craft and familial social patterns. This latter style has been the traditional founda-tion of vowed religious community life in the Church, but it is being increasingly challenged by the newer media style. The critical point I wish to raise is this: if religi6us communities of today believe they can continue to stress and intend the older form of com-munity while allowing the ever-spreading presence and use of electronic media, they are sadly deceiving themselves. Houses in which many indi-viduals hold active ministerial positions in the Church and society must face the challenge more acutely; these people need bolstering in stronger doses. Their increased emotional drain begs for a multitude of psy-chological supports. Make no mistake! Electronic media constitute a pow-erful psychological support system, and by themselves they can under-mine the traditional ethos of familial religious community. The inherent reason that electronic media form such a strong psy-chological buttress lies in their ability to alter the fundamental shape of our sense perceiving. Lengthy exposure to media causes differences in the balancing of sight, hearing, touch and balance. Marshall McLuhan, the great pioneer of media theory, noted that electronic media create an instant sensorium, synthesizing sight, sound and touch simultaneously.~ The music video (MTV) is a perfect example of instantaneous multiple sensual involvement. Through this complex sensory input the perceiver's emotions "heat up" quickly; they can attain an intense level of inner Modern Media and Community involvement, and even psychologically remove the perceiver from the pressures of the present. If I happen to be dealing with some specific vexing problem and my feelings are.tired or conflictive, how smoothly a change comes from flipping on the TV or putting a favorite record on the stereo. These media generate an instant, sensual response and become a psychological support system in themselves. Many aspects of the traditional style of community life have already been affected by the intrusion of media into the daily life of religious houses. The structure and frequency of common recreation has altered sig-nificantly. I've heard many individuals either lament or factually describe the practical disappearance of large community-recreation sessions, the evening walks of many people, the diminishment of common reading rooms. In their place have appeared public television rooms, usually more than one to accommodate smokers and non-smokers (for men's houses) or Dan Rather or Tom Brokaw fans (for women's houses). In some communities the time of the evening news program has influenced the daily schedule of meals arid prayer, although the more recent advent of the video cassette has eliminated this temporary problem. The electronic media have subtly altered what people look for in rec-reation itself, that is, what we expect from and put into a period of recre-ation. In the older familial style, recreation was in part a kind of work, an effort to get to know the individuals of the community and to construct these common intentions that make a group into a true communitas. Russell Baker in his delightful autobiography, Growing Up, reminisced about his childhood evenings when the whole family would sit around the kitchen table for three hours or more, each working at some game, hobby or menial task and conversing about different aspects of their day and inter-ests. Such a scenario would be practically impossible for someone raised in today's media world; it would be the ultimate "bore." Although it is so much easier to watch television, maybe recreation for both families and religious communities needs to recapture some aspects of work and effort. Perhaps it's a modern area of life that demands a practi~:al asceticism. Maybe we should go back to ~the basics and see recreation not just as a time of personal leisure but also as a special moment for build-ing the common intentions with real people that will bond us to a particu-lar group. In the last several decades electronic media have frequently become an intrinsic part of the way some religious communities care for their elderly. Mothers with small children often refer to the television set as the "essential babysitter." The TV also gets used as companion an~ diversion for the infirm and bedridden. Has anyone ever wondered what 200 Review for~Religious, March-April, 1987 kind of psychological impact or shift in fantasy those old priests and sis-ters experience through their continual exposure (subjection) to game shows, soap operas and nighttime police stories? It's a thought worth pondering. In some cases those various media have even generated a new com-munity "official," like the custodian of the TV set or the curator of video movies. Their responsibilities are varied: get the TV guide from the Sunday paper before it disappears, tape the evening news for later rerun, moderate disputes about which programs will be watched, and so on. One final way that the media impinge on religious community life today may be in their subtle escalation of psychological depression. More than a few observers have suggested that depression is merging on becom-ing a national epidemic, the prototypical American social disease that eve-ryone seems to suffer from at one time or another. Depression results from a mixture of physical, psychological and social causes: weariness and exhaustion combine with discouragement that we have not met our expected goals within a social context that regularly fails to provide sus-taining or creative human relationships. All of these causes can be com-monly present in work-oriented, overly-structured and perfection-motivated religious houses. When someone senses the weariness and dis-couragement that keys the onset of depression, the easiest response is to plop in front of the TV set and watch "anything." It takes no effort at all. Paradoxically the unintended result may intensify those precise psy-chological and social roots of depression, the unreal expectations and the distance from people. Some psychologists have postulated a sharp link-age between TV addiction and habitual depression; the two feed each other in a vicious circle.7 Even though modern media present many difficulties, we could also point to effects which play a positive role: accurate information of world-wide import, entertainment of the highest artistic quality, and new, essen-tial ways of proclaiming the Christian message, as well as a very valid recreational dimension. St. Benedict probably would make the same kinds of concessions that he did about drinking wine. Certainly we ought to borrow his insights about moderation, as well as recognize that the media are probably here to stay in our contemporary houses. In the long run the challenge will be to discover a sense of com-munity living that binds together the older familial style of community with the newer style of spontaneous and heightened psychological interchange. Both possess strong values: the former, a powerful-sense of ptiysical togetherness in work and prayer, a set of common goals built up through repeated sharing, and the virtue of perseverance; the latter, an Modern Media and Community / 201 emphasis on the value of emotional support and a true recreational element in community. The merging of these two styles will affect all types of societal living today: the family, the social organization, the local parish, as well as the monastery. Unfortunately we have usually tended to oppose the different views in an either/or perspective. Without doubt the quality of community living has changed drastically in religious houses since those first telephones, radios and tele-vision sets were brought in. The wisdom of Benedict suggests that it's doubtful if the monks and sisters of our time can be convinced that these instruments are not good for them. So, at least, let us use them not to addiction, but to moderation. That's an incredible word of practical wisdom that resounds through the centuries! NOTES ' RB 1980: The Rule of Benedict. Edited by Timothy Fry, O.S.B., (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1981), p. 241. The quotation is from chapter 40, vv. 6-7. ' Margaret Miles, Image as Insight (Boston: Beacon Press, 1985), pp. 128-132, 148. 3 Canons 573, 602. Code of Canon Law (Washington, DC: Canon Law Society of America, 1983), pp. 219, 227. 4 Evelyn Eaton Whitehead and James Whitehead, Community of Faith: Models and S~t rRaBte 1gi9e8s0 f:o rT Dhee vReulolep ionfg S Ct.h Briesntieadni cCto, mppm. u1n6i5ti-e1s6 (7N.6e Mw aYrsohrakl:l SMecaLbuurhya nP,r Uesns,d 1e9r8s2ta).nd-ing Media: The Extensions of Man (New York: New American Library, 1964), pp. 57-67. See developments of these ideas by John Culkin, S.J., in McLuhan: Hot and Cool, edited by Gerald Emanuel Stem (New York: New American Library, 1967), pp. 49-57. -, 7 Jerry Mander, Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television (New York: Morr6w Quill, 1978). Also Marie Winn, The Plug-In Drug. (New York: Viking, 1977). Vocation Directors and Healthy Sexuality Sheila Murphy Dr. Murphy is a professor of psychology at Walsh College (2020 Easton St. N.W.; Canton, Ohio 44720) and is also Director of the Rogativa Center, an educational/ research facility, located on the campus, which serves the needs of women and men religious internationally. An earlier article, "Maximizing Human Potential," appeared in the issue of January/February, 1979. A vital concern to vocation directors is the healthy sexuality of the can-, didates they interview. Numerous workshops, articles, and lectures develop interviewing techniques, questions to ask, and areas to cover to facilitate directors' attempts to discover, during initial interviewing, the quality of candidates' sexuality integration. While these are all necessary and important, they represent only half of the story; the other half is the vocation director's own healthy sexuality and sexual integration. All persons are challenged to healthy sexual integration, and vocation directors, especially, must respond to this challenge because of the qual-ity and nature of their ministry. As initial gatekeepers of religious insti-tutions, their perceptions, judgments, and reactions regarding applicants determine whether of not, in many cases, candidates progress beyond expressing initial interest in a congregation or diocese. In this vital role, vocation directors need to be very clear about which interview issues are their own and which belong to the candidates. This is particularly essen-tial in the area of healthy sexuality. Healthy Sexuality--A Definition Healthy sexuality reflects the integration of the total person. Not a "separate" area of human development, sexuality is the total expression 202 Vocation Directors and Healthy Sexuality / 203 of an individual's social, intellectual, physical, and emotional develop-ment. In addition, the combination of these is also the individual's spirituality--the person's complete expression of who she or he is in rela-tionship to self, to others, and to God. Everything people do is sexual. Embodied as women or men, people express their femaleness or maleness in all aspects of their beings. As a ¯ female, for example, everything I do is sexual because I do everything as a woman; I do not function as an it, nor can I be a man. This simple yet relatively new concept was not part of the pre-Vatican theology or sociology in which most people were raised. On the contrary, most grew up in a time when sexuality was associated with genital behaviors, the epit-ome of which was heterosexual intercourse, and divorced from all other areas of human functioning. Within that limited perspective, the full gamut of interpersonal interaction, like self-disclosure, affection, and play-ful touching, were either dismissed as trivial or judged to be suspect behaviors employed as a prelude to the "real thing," i.e., genital inter-course. Also in ~this perception, people's social, emotional, and intellec-tual development were believed to be unrelated to their sexual integration. Such beliefs led to personality fragmentation, suggesting to people that they could compartmentalize their beings and their lives as if they were machines rather than vibrant, dynamic individuals. Because people are constantly emerging as persons, so, too, is their sexuality. Understandings of themselves that answered yesterday's questions may no longer be viable for today's. This all implies that a per-sonal understanding of sexuality is nbt a "one shot" insight to be devel-oped in adolescence (another myth perpetrated by the pre-Vatican II the-ology and sociology), but an ongoing struggle for authenticity. Vocation directors, like other religious, have been struggling for years to incorporate these newer understandings of self, sexuality, and spirituality into their religious lives and their ministries. A formidable task, this requires a rethinking and readapting of many teachings and beliefs that were entrenched in childhood and young-adult education. Fur-thermore, not all are in agreement regarding this concept; theologians, priests and religious continue to argue the place of sexuality in human development. As a personal and corporate enterprise, developing healthy sexuality is no easy task! Sexuality as a holistic concept suggests that the overall quality of people's lives is reflected in their interactions. If they are having difficul- .ties with their feelings, then these people will have difficulties with their sexuality. If intellectually confused or agitated, then they will be sexually and spirituhlly impeded. Feeling unaccepted by or alienated from their pri- 204 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 mary support congregation or diocese, these people will suffer other rela-tional and spiritual problems as well. Hazards of Vocation Ministry Vocatipn ministry is uniquely demanding, and recent reports and research on vocation directors indicate the importance of personal and sexual integration. Perhaps one of the most telling findings is th~ fact that the attrition rate from the ministry on the part of vocation directors exceeds sixty percent. They leave the ministry altogether either while still functioning as directors or shortly after terminating their positions. This certainly underscores the intensity and problems indigenous to this ministry. Another finding is the high rate of burnout reported by vocation directors. It is not uncommon for a vocation director to wear a variety of ministerial hats simultaneously. Many hold two or more jobs, each of which is reputed to be part-time but which, in fact, requires full-time involvement and energy. In addition to their vocation .ministry, many administrate diocesan offices (e.g., deaconate programs), function as parish pastors, or hold full-time teaching positions. They do many differ-ent things during the day, yet retire at night feeling exhausted and unfulfilled, both of which lead to apathy, resentment, and indifference-- all classic symptoms of burnout, the result of unmet personal needs. Some vocation directors report increased cynicism and hostility ~oward the people they serve. What they initially entered into with enthu-siasm and optimism has become fraught with boredom and drudgery. Another manifestation of burnout, this frequently translates into intropunitive aggression whereby some vocation directors gain an average of ten to thirty pounds a year; others convert their cynicism into increased alcohol and drug consumption. A frequent complaint of vocation directors is the pain of alienation they experience from the very groups they represent. Erratic s~hedules, travel, and workshop demands can preclude regular contact with their base group for prayers, meals, and recreation. Praying and eating alone can be lonely experiences, so vocation directoi's may seek support else-where. Sometimes they request a transfer to another community or diocese; sometimes they look outside their congregations for their primary support networks. In either case, they become increasingly disenchanted with their communities and .their work, all of which contributes to the high attrition rate reported above. Another source of alienation from base congregation and diocesan groups is the updated education most vocation directors receive. As fre- Vocation Directors and Healthy Sexuality / 205 quent participants in workshops, conferences, and regional meetings, voca-tion directors are exposed to the most recent theorizing and research in issues pertinent to religious life. They hear the latest on theological and psychological implications for richer ministerial actualization, and they are eager to implement these insights in their own communities. The base groups, not having been similarly exposed, are often confused over these "newfangled ideas" which seem to come as a shot in the dark. "After all," they reason, "this person is seldom with us. She or he is out and about, breezes in for a day or two, and expects us to change overnight without being an active member in the change process." Mutual recrimina-tions ensue; vocation directors perceive their base groups as closed to new ideas while base group members perceive vocation directors as free-wheeling individuals with their own cars, budgets, and schedules, and who enjoy the luxury of travel and trouble shooting. These conflicts play themselves out as a painful push-pull between the directors' pleas for inno-vation and the group members' refusal to budge. Vocation directors may then conclude that they can no longer, in honesty, represent their com-munities, which they have come to view as narrow-minded and static. Another source of personal frustration and community alienation for vocation directors is the intangibility of results in vocation ministry. Many congregations and seminaries stress the importance of quality candidates, yet when yearly evaluations roll around, actual "body count" seems to loom larger than quality control. Vocation directors have been known to invest enormous amounts of time and energy in candidates who, through such intense interaction, learn that ministry is not their authentic vocation. These individuals do not show up on "body count" charts, and vocation directors again find themselves trying to justify themselves as "really doing their jobs." Candidates who opt out of niinisterial pursuits have truly been ministered to. Yet how to account for such ministry is a dilemma faced by all vocation directors. ,~ Another problem reported by vocation directors is the feeling of "going crazy." Not unique to vocation directors, this symptom is fre-quently accompanied by the fragmentation experienced during normal, predictable, adult-development transitions. A person going through midlife transition while engaging in vocation ministry may feel that life has become too much to bear. Unable to differentiate ministerial issues from developmental issues, vocation directors can come to the premature and often erroneous conclusion that their work is the sole source of all their problems. Further compounding the situation is their perceived alien-ation from community, which leads vocation directors to believe that they cannot honestly voice their concerns to their brothers and sisters. 206 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 Taken together, these hazards can leave vocation directors feeling lonely and alone. Feeling alienafed, angry, and perhaps personally inade-quate, vocation directors are ripe for relational and sexual problems. Warning Signs There are many signs indicating that vocation directors are in rela-iional or sexual jeopardy. The following represent a compilation of several voiced by religious and diocesan vocation directors over the past few years. "Using relationships" can suggest poor sexual integration. This means viewing people as means to an end rather than ends in themselves. This occurs when directors approach others for what they can offer or do for them." Referring to others by title ratherthan by name--"my secre-tary," "my candidate," "my brother priest," "my sisters in community"--all are examples; they imply either ownership and/or dis-tance. The personal element is missing, suggesting that others' functions and/or commodities are more important than their persons. Some directors are plagued by pervasive anger, another signal of distorted sexual integration. They find everyone and everything upsetting, behaving as seething cauldrons of discontent. Their inability to enjoy life, to derive pleasure from people or activities, points directly to a lack of personal integration, which leads to impoverished sexual and spiritual expression. The challenge for these individuals is to identify the sources of their anger and to do what they can to rectify the situation rather than to target others inappropriately. Any increase in indulgence signals danger. Most people probably think of alcohol, drugs, or food in this regard, ,but they would be simplistic to end their list with these. Any compulsive indulgence is a warn-ing: compulsive exercise, compulsive visiting, compulsive TV viewing, and compulsive reading are a few examples. These behaviors represent a struggle to impose external controls which, individuals hope, will com-pensate for internal chaos. It is the internal fragmentation that threatens healthy integration, not the lack of food, exercise, or reading in their lives when people carry these activities to extremes. Another warning sign is preoccupation with others' relationships. These people seem to be perpetually immersed in somebody else's sexual/ relational lives. Most often the targets of their concern are family mem-bers~ and friends outside of the primary community or diocesan base group. Living vicariously through others will never substitute for living authentically through personal relationships, yet these people would prefer relationship-atka-distance to 15ersonal risk. They seem to be inter- Vocation Directors and Healthy Sexuality / 207 ested in relationship, yet they live divorced from relationship. Further-more, by attending to those outside of the base community or group, these women and men are avoiding their obligations of presence to and relationship within their primary commitment arena. Curiosity focused almost exclusively on others' sexual behaviors is a clear indication of unresolved personal sexual issues. Vocation directors must be especially vigilant in this by observing and monitoring the kinds of topics and questions that seem to demand their greatest energies. Does the conversation always seem to turn to sex? Are dates reviewed in minute detail? Are sexual histories more detailed than educational or family histories? Affirmative responses to any of these suggest that the vocation directors, more than the candidates, may have sexual problems. It is possible that directors are projecting their own needs and fantasies onto the candidates. A very obvious warning sign is a preoccupation with overtly sexual material. Increased viewing of x-rated films, compulsive reading and/or collecting of pornographic literature, and frequenting of strip bars may reveal unresolved sexual and relational tensions. Here, the problem is not so much one of the preoccupation itself as what it signifies. Marked changes in affectional displays, either noticeable reductions or increases, can be symptomatic of sexual disintegration. Normally affectionate people who become stand-offish, or normally distant people who suddenly need to touch whomever they are talking with,'are sending out pleas for help. In effect, they are demonstrating current discomfort with themselves and are revealing this through their behavior. .In all of these, people have failed to integrate or are struggling to rede-fine their sexual identities. As happens when individuals are agitated, they tend to look to others and the environment first as the possible source of or solution to their difficulties. Until the inner source or solution is dis-covered, these individuals are doomed to look for answers in all the wrong places, frus~trating themselves and others in the process. Healthy sexuality is a personal responsibility and privilege. Developing Healthy Sexuality The fii'st step toward h.ealthy sexual integration is education. People need to learn the basics of biology and human sexual response so they can make informed decisions about their personal sexuality. People in our society too often grew up in a culture where sexual myths outweighed facts, generating fear and inco .mplete information. Many women and men continue to function out of adolescent fears and fantasies developed when they learned half the sexual stor3) from friends who had, at best, about 201~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 one-tenth of the total plot. The sad tragedy is that many women and men religious do not know how to read their own body responses when in intense or angering or sexual situations. Simple, straightforward informa-tion is an available corrective. A sad reality is that men, more than women, are reluiztant to seek solid sexual education. Current research sug-gests that this is because men in our culture have been raised to believe that they must be sexually knowledgeable, and to seek information wo(ild be to violate their masculine image. Credible vocation directors, like all religious and priests, cannot afford to perpetuate that stereotype. Personal sexual evaluation is the next step toward healthy sexual integration. Armed with valid biological and sexual data, women and men must then assess their personal sexual identities. They must ask them-selves, "How comfortable am I with my own sexuality? What does it mean to be a woman? What does it mean to be a man? Do I know when I am sexually aroused, and what can I do about it within the bounds of my public celibate stance? What is my definition of relationship, and where does affection and/or sexual expression apply?" The answers to these and related questions must come from within. Opinions and text-books can guide reflection, but personal response is essential. Along with personal sexual evaluation is the challenge to develop s6me understanding of personal sexual orientations, whether they be ambisexual, homosexual/lesbian, or heterosexual. Since sexuality is con-stantly in process, so also will be individuals' assessment of their identities, but this does not preclude the need to think about and accept where they find themselves at this time in their process. Developing and evaluating personal philosophies of celibacy, sexuality, and intimacy are prerequisites to healthy sexual integration. People must hold themselves accountable to some code of sexual moral-ity. Too many people employ too much energy reacting to and refuting others' definitions of sexual

Issue 62.1 of the Review for Religious, 2003. ; Life Together Ignatian Heritage Spiritual Fiber Personal Witness QUARTERLY 62.1 2003 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faithful to God's universal call to holiness by making available to them the spiritual legacies that flow from the cbarisms of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tk? n, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. 0 L~VING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Adv#ory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla sJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 62.1 2003 Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem Robert P. Maloney CM speaks of the critical need in religious life today for superiors who are real animators of their communities, and presents five moments that are essential for healthy local communities. 17 The Spirituality of CICLSAL's "Starting Afresh" Charles M. Mangan reviews a recent document from the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life, Starting .qfresb front Christ, which treats the primacy of the spiritual life for all consecrated persons. 27 38 Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises William P. O'Brien SJ presents a model of the inner dynamic in people making the thirty-day retreat as a progression of dialectical shifts, and he shows how the text of the Ignatian Exercises follows this progression. Ignatian Women Past and Future Joan L. Roccasalvo CSJ writes about women who participated in the early apostolic works of the Society of Jesus. She then looks at four groups of women religious with an Ignatian spirituality and offers suggestions for renewal in the face of today's religious-life issues. Review for Religious 63 Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man A. Paul Dominic SJ explores the phrase "Son of man," used by Jesus to refer to himself, and sees implications for us Christians. 72 Perseverance: The Courage to Persist Dennis J. Billy CSSR describes perseverance in religious life as a daily activity requiring both a personal and communal commitment to the vows and community life. 83 When One Flower Blooms It is Spring Everywhere Catherine M. Hennessy MSC discovers in the diagnosis of Parkinson's disease a summons to grow in faith, trusting one's entire self to God, a journey without a timeline. 90 Solidarity with Afridan Women Religious Annmarie Sanders IHM finds that a research trip to investi-gate the educational needs of African women religious opens new insights into the mysterious power of intercessory prayer as an expression of solidarity, 4 Prisms 96 Canonical Counsel: Discretionary Dismissal 103 Book Reviews o2.1 200~ You now have in your hand the first quar-terly issue of Review for Religious. You may not have noticed the difference. Perhaps you did note that the usual dating by months was miss-ing on the cover and inside too. Instead of January-February 2003 on the cover, there is only the word Quarterly, with the designation 62.1, followed by 2003. With our worldwide dis-tribution between the northern and southern hemispheres, it seemed good not to identify our quarterly issues by seasons since there could be only confusion about whose summer and whose winter was being named. Each issue will be iden-tified throughout by its volume (e.g. 62) and its own particular number (e.g.1) and, of course, the year. The quarterly issues will be mailed in January, April, July, and October. Each issue will maintain the same quality articles by our contributors. But we hope that you will find a greater reading ease because of the slight change in our type size and its leading. The number of pages in each issue remains the same. Where we as editors intend to experiment and hope to get your response is in the two sup-plements that are included in your subscription price for the year 2003--the first identified with the Lent/Easter seasons and the second with the Advent/Christmas seasons. The supplements Review for Religious will be 32-page issues, with articles more relevant to the identified liturgical seasons. Each article in the supplement issue will be followed by some suggestions for your own prayer and reflection, stimulants for conversations between two or more, and perhaps a brief prayer or Christian heritage citation that will stir your own interaction. Rather than leaving a reader passive, we hope to encourage a greater personal involvement with an article and even more easily prompt a community discussion. We look for readers' reaction and response back to us as editors. If these experiments provided in the supplement issues receive shaping and support by your responses, we will eventually include them in the article presentations in the ordinary quarterly issues of the journal. In each supplement we will pro-vide a postcard for easy response. But you can also write, fax (314-977-7362), email (review@slu.edu), or log on to our web page (www.reviewforreligious.org). We ask that you do give us your response. The first supplement will be mailed in March and the second in November. Review for Religious has provided articles of infor-marion, pastoral help, and reflective inspiration through-out its history during the past century. As. we are in the beginning years of this new millennium, we desire to sustain and even enhance that long tradition. But now, through our supplement experiment, we seek to serve you, our readers, with a journal that more easily accom-modates the dialogue so necessary for our Catholic life-- dialogue with our God, dialogue within Ourselves, and dialogue with one another. As Pope Paul VI said, our way of being church is .today the way of dialogue. The editors of the Review desire that this journal continues to play an integral part in our being church. We hope that you will enter into the dialogue with us. ¯David L. Fleming SJ ~" 62.1 200:t ROBERT P. MALONEY Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem High above the mountain ranges of the Western United States glides the California condor, the largest bird in North America. With its wingspan of nine feet, it soars to an altitude of three miles~ swooping down from time to time to feed on red meat and salmon with a healthy appetite. Black body, bare head, red knees, this majestic bird has flown over the mountains and valleys of California, Nevada, and Arizona for millennia. But by 1990 only twenty-three remained, six in California and seventeen near the Grand Canyon in Arizona.It was an endan-gered species. Every species needs its own peculiar eco-logical system in order to survive. When that system is rich, the species thrives. As its ecosys-tem deteriorates, the species gradually dimin-ishes and may become extinct. Millions of Robert P. Maloney ClVl, superior general of the Congregation of the Mission, is a frequent contributor to this journal. He resides at Congregazione della Missione; Via dei Capasso, 30; 00164 Roma, Italy. Review for Religio us species that once inhabited the planet earth are now extinct. So too will it be one day for the human race. Will its ecosystem be destroyed by a violent cataclysm of human making, a massive bomb? Will it be destroyed when a g!ant asteroid crashes into the planet? Will it be destroyed by a suffocating pollution? Who knows? And religious life? Or the life of particular congre-gations of sisters, brothers, and priests? Nature teaches us the simple lesson that they will grow and flourish only if the ecosystem found and developed by their founders centuries ago, and renewed from time to time, remains salubrious. Otherwise they will decline and perhaps one day disappear. The Builders of the Ecosystem Today the word animation is used again and again. It means to give life, breath, soul, spirit. The documents of most contemporary communities state that superiors (or coordinators, supervisors, or whatever word is used to designate them) in a worldwide congregation, or in a province, or in a local house are called to be animators among the men or women with whom they live. This is no easy task. In fact, it is an enormous challenge. Two pieces of data highlight for me the critical nature of this challenge; one is existential, the other juridical and anthropological. The existential datum. Over the last several years, about three hundred members of my congregation between the ages of thirty-five and fifty have passed through a three-month ongoing formation program in Paris. They have come there from more than fifty coun-tries on all the continents. The priest who has been in charge of the program from the beginning has told me that the concern they have most frequently expressed is an uneasiness about community living. They sense that something is lacking in our life together. In the last three ,7 62.1 2003 Maloney * Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem If the superior is good at the job, the chances are that the local community will be very much alive. decades, most of our provinces have taken significant steps forward in the renewal of our apostolic life. Little by little we have focused more clearly on the poor and on our missionary nature. But many in the program ask: Have we found the right formula for our life together? Does community provide the faith support, the solidar-ity in action, the encouragement, the understanding, the home that many today--especially the young--seek when they join an apostolic society? This uneasiness, expressed by many, is the challenging existential datum that I find myself pondering. The second datum is juridical/anthropological, and it too is enormously challenging. Article 129 of the con-stitutions of my own con-gregation, which is similar to articles in ma.ny other constitutions, says: "The Congregation forms itself particularly in the individ-ual local communities." Even apart from juridical considerations, that is where congregations really live and .grow--in the local community. That is where we are either happy, or unhappy, where w.e either pray or do not pray, where we either feel support or do not feel it. That is where we either enjoy one another's company or flee from it, where we either plan and act in solidarity in serving the poor or where we merely park for the night at a convenient motel in order to go out again in the morning as a lone-ranger type of apostle. This juridical/anthropological datum raises the urgent question: Can we create in our local communities a healthy ecosystem where our members live, grow, and even thrive? Review for Religious But there is more to this second datum. The same article states: "The superior, as the center of unity and animator of the life of the local community, should pro-mote the ministries of the house and, with the commu-nity, should be concerned for the personal development and activity of each confrere." This paragraph states the importance of the local superior's role. He or she is a key animator in the local community, an energizer of its life and activity. Of course, superiors do not stand alone. Others share this responsibility. But, if the superior is good at the job, the chances are that the local community will be very much alive. And, if he or she is bad at it, the local community will have considerable difficulty finding the anima, the breath, that it needs in order to live healthily. What can we realistically hope for in regard to local superiors and local communities? I hope, first of all, that congregations will devise more effective ways for local superiors, along with those in their houses, to build up ecosystems where members will thrive. Surely, local com-munities are not all alike. Some are large. Some are small. Some revolve around a single work. Some embrace mul-tiple works. Given such variety, local superiors need to ¯ have specific tools for building healthy local ecosystems. That raises a critical problem and stirs up a second hope in me. The constitutions of most congregations propose a community plan for the life and activity of the local community. It is a covenant, so to speak. We com-mit ourselves to support each other in our apostolic labors, our life together, our prayer, our vows, our ongo-ing education--our very life. But I have the impression that many local communities--and this is the problem-- do not take the formulation, implementation, evalua-tion, and regular revision of a community plan seriously. During my visits to the provinces as superior general, I often note that local community plans are badly made9 62.1 2003 Maloney * Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem ¯ or are merely the daily order. This is also a frequent comment in the reports that provincials send me about their visits to local houses. So my second hope is this: that more and more members of congregations will take local .community planning seriously, and that local supe-riors will learn to do so too. Five Crucial Community Moments It is always important to speak about community con-cretely. Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said: "The person who loves his dream of community more than the real com-munity itself destroys community.''1 Community exists when we live it concretely and vitally. Let me dwell briefly on five significant elements in the ecosystem of community living. They are, so to speak, the air, the water, the sun, the fire, and the soil of local communities. Meals. It might seem strange that I begin with eating, though of course the principal communal act that Jesus left his followers was precisely a meal. My focus, how-ever, is not on food (though St. Vincent de Paul, my congregation's founder, encouraged treasurers to pro-vide good wine and good bread).2 My focus is on com-mon meals as a primary sign of union. When asked what are the most striking memories of their families, count-less people describe long festive dinners at Christmas or Easter in which people sat around the table telling sto-ries, or a time together on vacation when everyone ate together, and relaxed, sang, played games, and talked until late into the night. Of course, not every meal can be that way. But meals are a prime time for good human communication. They are times when our tradition is deepened because we hear stories from the past and speak of wonderful men and women whom we have known. They are times when our .tradition ia developed because new people express new insights and new ways of responding to the same values in the service of the poor. Review for Religious Decades ago reading at table occupied religious dur-ing meals. Today meals are an opportunity for genuine, interested table talk. But at times communities eat rapidly, with sparse conversation. In some houses it is hard to get everyone together even for a single meal a day. Crucial in the conversation that characterizes meals is attentive listening. As members of communities, we must be deeply interested in one another, in our back-grounds, our histories, our gifts, the projects that set us on fire. Few things are worse than having an excit-ing experience to relate, bringing it up at table, and finding no one eager to hear it. I regret to say that this happens often. Not long ago I felt agitated by what seemed an injustice done to a priest by a bishop. I tried to tell my story to two people. Both were preoc-cupied with other things that day. When I was a short way into my story, one after the other interrupted to tell his own story. I had to conclude that it was my turn to listen, and I never got my story out that day. Of course, the Eucharistic meal plays a most signif-icant role in our lives. It is a time for attentive listening to the word of God, for genuine stiaring in faith, and for union in the life of the Lord. Some of my striking memories in community have been wonderful Eucharistic celebrations. That brings me to a second key element in an invigoratingcommunity ecosystem. Prayer. Here let me mention two distinctive moments. Common liturgical prayer should be prepared well and celebrated beautifully and meditatively. When this is the case, it is a significant time for us to be in contact with God, with one another, and with young Crucial in the conversation that characterizes meals is attentive listening. I! 62 1 2003 Maloney ¯ BuiMing a Healthy Community Ecosystem people who hunger to.pray with us. It can be a time when we cry out: It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to make music to your name, O most High, to proclaim your love in the morning and your truth in the watches of the night. (Ps 92:2-3) Of course, if our prayer is routine, ill-prepared, and dis-tracted, it is of little value. Then, as a great saint once put it, it is like "barking dogs" in the presence of God. But, done well in the tradition of the church, l~turgical prayer is something beautiful for God and attractive to the .par-ticipants, especially today's young people in their thirst for an experience of prayer. Meditative prayer can seem a rather solitary exercise, but it is crucial that community members support one another in reflecting on God's word and in contemplat-ing God's presence. Over the years I have felt that sup-port very much. I. am encouraged when I find myself meditating with my brothers and sisters. If the liturgy is "the summit toward which the activity of the church is directed" (Sacrosanctum conciliurn, §10), meditative prayer is an important foundation stone. It strengthens 'our faith, and so, of course, communities members should encourage each other in it. Members of small communities often say that it is almost impossible for them to pray together because they are so few and are busy with multiple works. I am in utter disagreement with their conclusion. I realize, of course, that the prayer of a small community cannot be the same as that of a large community. But even in small communities we must pray together. If we do not find the time to do so, we are lost. Faith sharing is one of the contemporary forms that the traditional "repetition of prayer" is taking. It can be a powerful moment in building community if the mem- Review for Religious bers share their faith with great simplicity. Faith sharing is not meant to be a homily prepared ahead of time, nor is it meant to be a release for one's pent-up anxieties. Rather, it is a spontaneous expression of our hopes, our doubts, our joys, our pain as we live and pray before the Lord. If we wrestle with life and share our sense of who we are and what we seem called to be and do in the light of the gospel, I am confident that we will come to know and appreciate one another mucl~ more deeply. Fun. If prayer is the human heart searching for God, humor helps us to realize that God is unpredictable, as are most of us, his creatures. Humor is linked to our perception of incongruity. There is much that is incon-gruous in our lives, if only we can see it with a little bit of distance. It is very important to have fun in community. Fun fosters harmony, preventing us from being overly serious about ourselves. Important as it is that the community work together, it is also important that we relax together and laugh from time to time, that we enjoy one another's company. In this way we will see different aspects of each other's personality too. Thomas Aquinas says a striking thing about playful-ness: "Unmitigated seriousness betokens a lack of virtue, because it wholly despises play which is as necessary for a good human life as is rest." A local community should be creative in organizing times of diversion. I lived in a house where once a week, at night, we watched a video-tape of a movie together. Actually, we now do this from time to time in our general curia. We agree on the film ahead of time. Somebody prepares a few snacks, and we sit around and talk about it afterwards. I love it, and so does everybody else. Nobody has to come, but every-body does. I lived in a community in Panama wher~ we came together from separate mission houses every Monday in 62.1 2003 Maloney * Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem order to pray together, hold a meeting, and then enjoy the rest of the day in each other's company. Almost nobody on the mission ever missed that day. There are many other possibilities, but it is very important that we enjoy one another's company, laugh, relax, and at times simply have fun. Meetings. Even though meetings are sometimes a scourge in our lives, or, as many have suggested, one of the contemporary forms of mortification, they are nonetheless a very important community moment. They are a time when important communication takes place. They should be a moment in which everyone feels included and in which people feel a common responsi-bility for the values being shared and the decisions being made. I suggest that two meetings are of particular impor-tance. The first is the meeting for formulating the local community plan. Unfortunately, as I have already men-tioned, many communities still do this poorly, making it an occasion for deciding on an order of day, rather than a time for creativity. They are slow to exercise the flexi-bility that their constitutions provide. But the meeting for formulating the local community plan can be pre-cisely the time in which the ecosystem that I am describ-ing can be created, developed, enriched, and covenanted. The second is the meeting for evaluation, for revision de vie. We seek ongoing communal conversion within community. Evaluation times are times to reflect, hon-estly and peacefully, on our mission and our lifestyle. At such meetings people can offer suggestions for the growth of a local community. Often the key is balance, the ability to integrate various values: mission, prayer, life together. In our lives simple dialogue is essential, drawing out from one another our feelings and thoughts, posing helpful questions; giving one's own reaction with-out being either defensive or aggressive. Review for Religious Apostolate. The apostolates of religious communities have a communal dimension. In our era characterized by individualism, it is crucial that local superiors plan in common with the members of their houses, evaluate in common, and animate the members of the community to work as a team as much as possible. There are few things that tie us together more than cooperating in an exciting common apostolic project. It is wonderful when, in a healthy sense, we are all proud of what we do in a mis-sion or seminary or parish or school or soup kitchen or social-justice program. There are many ways of showing apostolic solidarity. Do we listen to what our brothers or sisters have done during the day when, com-ing home tired, they want to chat with us in the evening? Do we let them share with us the challenges they meet in their aposto- ¯ lates? Do we pray for and with our brothers and sis-ters in their apostolates? Can local communities truly be called "apostolic communities"? Or are they just workers' residences? Common interest in the work of each local community member is a powerful unifying force. A final word. Not every community w!ll renew itself and attain the ideals envisioned by the constitutions of the institute. A provincial and his council have the dif-ficult task of working toward the gradual renewal of the local communities. As they do that, I suggest that younger members be assigned only to communities that engage in a serious process of renewal. It is those com-munities that carry the seeds of future life. A province with three communities where the members live life The key is balance, the ability to integrate various values: mission, prayer, life together. 62.1 2003 Maloney ¯ Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem vitally has a real future. A province with twenty com-munities where the members just survive is not likely to survive. Unless a province builds genuinely participa-tive communities, it dies. And the California condor? I am happy to report that in the last decade its number has increased from twenty-three to a hundred and twenty (a good-sized province!). Those who love this majestic bird redeveloped an ecosys-tem where it could live and even thrive. I hope we can do the same thing in our local communities. Notes Dietrich Bonhoeff~r. Life Together (London, 1954), p. 15. SV llI, 505. SV refers to the 14-volume French edition of St. Vincent's works, edited by Pierre Coste (Paris: Gabalda, 1920-1925). Friday It's the day of the cross. A crucifix hangs on my bedroom wall, gore masked by silver paint, beams sanded smooth. Even in euphemized translation void of smell and moan of death the message is clean Dressing my unpierced body and combing hair unnettled with thorns, I look through the crosshairs of the coming hours and reflect on the risk of murmuring "Thy will be done." Patricia Schnapp RSM Review for Religious CHARLES M. MANGAN The Spirituality of CICLSAL's "Starting Afresh" (~'~! tarting Afresh from Christ: A Renewed Commitment to Consecrated Life in the Third Millennium" is the recent instruction, dated 19 May 2002, published by the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL). This fifty-seven-page document, originally written in Italian, stems from the congregation's plenary session on 25-28 September 2001 in Vatican City. Mindful of the 25 March 1996 apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata of Pope John Paul II and of his vision for the Third Christian Millennium as enunciated in his 6 January 2001 apostolic letter Novo millennio ineunte, the members of the plenary did not intend "to produce another doctrinal document, but rather to help consecrated life enter into the great pastoral guidelines of the Holy Father with the contributon of his authority and of charismatic service to unity and to the universal mission of the church" (§4). Charles M. Mangan is a priest of the Diocese of Sioux Falls and an official in the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life. His address is Villa Stritch; Via della Nocetta, 63; 00164 Roma, Italy. 17 62.1 2003 Mangan ¯ The Spirituality of "Starting Afresh" "Starting Afresh from Christ" presents many aspects of consecrated life, but it focuses "primarily on spirituality." Although onewill find references to the importance of the spiritual life for consecrated men and women throughout this text, one entire part, among four, is exclusively dedicated to the topic. This essay briefly discusses that part's seminal points concerning the primacy of spiritua!ity in the consecrated life. Part 3 is tided "Spiritual Life in the First Place" (§§20-32). From this let us identify five essential dimensions regarding spirituality for consecrated persons. A Receptivity to the Holy Spirit's Stirrings Just as the founders and foundresses of religious institutes yielded to the mysterious intimations of the Holy Spirit, so today's consecrated persons must be marked by their incredible docility to him, permitting themselves "to be led by the Spirit to a constantly renewed discovery of God and of his Word, to a burning love for God and for humanity, and to a new understanding of the charism which has been given" (§20). Those founders and foundresses enjoyed an initial experience of the Paraclete that is to be preserved and ever deepened by contemporary consecrated persons. The Holy Spirit's actions are always fresh and creative. Consecrated men and women, by their openness to him, are drawn into a profound intimacy with the Lord. An "intense sp!rituality" really means living according to the Holy Spirit. If consecrated life is to have the "spiritual rebirth" that it needs, then the spiritual life must occupy the foremost position in each institute and in the heart of each consecrated man and woman. How does a consecrated person live spiritually? By attending to the evangelical counsels, imitating the inner life of love and communion of the Blessed Trinity, adhering to the charism of the institute as contained in its Review for Religious constitutions, and embracing the church's teaching regarding consecrated life, especially Vita consecrata. A deeper spirituality then emerges, one "which is more ecclesial and communitarian, more demanding and mature in mutual support in striving for holiness, more generous in apostolic choices." Indeed, a profound spirituality demonstrated by consecrated men and women will be of particular benefit to the Mystical Body of Christ because of its ability to edi~ and summon others to a more authentic spiritual life. The movement of the Holy Spirit in the consecrated life effects genuine communion bervceen the members, allowing them then to share what they have received in their mission to the people of God. Jesus Christ, the Sole Point of Departure "To start afresh from Christ" signifies that consecrated persons, led by the Holy Spirit, recommit themselves to the critical path of conversion and renewal. The Apostles accepted this way twenty centuries ago. Only by conversion and renewal is one made available for the announcement of the kingdom of God. While one's sinfulness must humbly be acknowledged, it need not be an insuperable deterrent to following Jesus. He has bestowed his call on consecrated persons, all of whom require his abundant grace to respond generously. Consecrated life, to quote Vita consecrata, is "a living memorial of Jesus' way of living and acting as the incarnate Word in relation to the Father and in relation to the brethren" (§22). Christ is the center and source of all that consecrated persons are and do. The consecrated life does not exist without the evangelical counsels, which enable religious to love the Lord and embrace his will; the communitarian life, in which Jesus assembles his friends around himself and bestows on them his lasting presence; the mission, which obligates consecrated persons to seek 19 62.1 200~ Mangan ¯ The Spirituality of"Starting Afresh" Christ in others and convey his overwhelming love and mercy to them. If consecrated men and women do not realize God's love for them, their efforts will be useless. He has loved first. All love is a response to his love. Courage is essential in the genuine living of poverty, chastity, and obedience, the absence of which takes the wind out of the sails of consecrated life. The Holy Father earlier challenged all consecrated persons to let themselves be guided always by the contemplation of Christ's face. This contemplation is possible particularly in (1) his word and sacraments, primarily the Holy Eucharist; (2) the church, gathered in his name; (3) all people, especially the poor, the suffering, and the needy; (4) each event of life. Holiness is the result of the encounter with Jesus. Religious can recognize the Master only if they are steeped in faith. The "habitual reading" of the word of God, prayer, and acts of charity are demanded if religious are to know Jesus. A "lived spirituality," frequent pondering of their institute's charism, and prayerful investigation into the sources employed by their founder or foundress provide welcome vigor to the spiritual life of consecrated persons. The Centrality of God's Word As the Holy Father has observed, "the first source of all spirituality" is the Word of God. Without reading the Scriptures, consecrated persons will not obtain sanctity. Founders and foundresses, convinced of this, were captivated and inspired by the word. The consecrated men and women of our era likewise must be. Happily, there has been a renewal in love for and contact with the word within communities of consecrated persons. They must continually ponder Sacred Scripture, especially the Gospels. By referring often to their Rule and Review for Religious constitutions, consecrated persons find the "particular interpretation of the gospel given by the founder and foundresses as the result of a particular prompting of the Spirit, and it helps the members of the institute to live concretely according to the word of God" (§24). When consecrated persons are formed by the Lord's word, they develop into "servants of the Word in the task of evangelization." Prayer and contemplation have a specific rapport with the word of God. They furnish the ambient for receiving the word, and they themselves spring from that very Word. How tragic if a consecrated person tries to live without the Word! "As a consequence life itself loses meaning, the faces of brothers and sisters are obscured and it becomes impossible to recognize the face of God in them, historical events remain ambiguous and deprived of hope, ~and apostolic and charitable mission become nothing more than widespread activity" (§2 5). Contemplation, which originates in communion and friendship with Christ, brings forth vocations to the consecrated life. Pope John Paul II contends that the "first task" of consecrated men and women is contemplation. There are myriad forms of prayer and contemplation. One community will differ from another in this respect. Yet the Liturgy of the Hours and the Mass are paramount regardless of the institute. When consecrated persons go to Mass and recite the Liturgy of the Hours, God is adored, these consecrated men and women are blessed in their endeavor, and others who Contemplation, which originates in ¯ communion and friendship with Christ, brings forth vocations to the consecrated life. 2I 62.1 2003 Mangan ¯ The Spirituality of "Starting Afresb" notice are touched. Each consecrated person must daily set aside time "to enter deeply into silent conversation" with Jesus. Consecrated persons share who they are and what they have with the Lord, who in turn enlightens them so that they may progress along the path to everlasting life. Faithfulness to prayer is not always easy for the consecrated person. "At times fidelity to personal and liturgical prayer will require a true effort not to allow oneself to be swallowed up in frenetic activism." Christ, who inspires prayer, will bring forth good fruit from those consecrated persons who strive to communicate well and often with him. Eucharist as Privileged Locus for Meeting Jesus, and the Need for Asceticism and Penance The Mass is the renewal of the paschal mystery-- Christ's passion, death, and resurrection. There is for consecrated persons no substitute for the daily Mass and extended adoration of the Holy Eucharist. In the Mass we are doubly fed. We receive God's Word proclaimed in the Sacred. Scriptures and his very Body and Blood under the appearances of bread and wine. Nourished by the hand of the Good Shepherd through the daily Mass, consecrated men and women become more capable of praising him as he deserves, strengthening the bonds of communion, and participating in the apostolic mission to the world. "We all need the daily viaticum of encounterwith the.Lord in order to bring, everyday life into sacred time which is made present in celebration of the Lord's Memorial" (§26). What happens in the lives of consecrated persons because of their connection to the Eucharist? They become further conformed to Christ. As he offered himself to his Father, so consecrated persons offer themselves and are themselves offered by Jesus to his Father in paradise. The fortifying of communion and Review for" Religious mission that occurs because of the Eucharist is impossible without "mutual forgiveness and the commitment to love one another." Imbued with the spirit of the Eucharist, consecrated persons forgive and are attentive to the needs of their neighbors. Each Mass is an opportunity for consecrated persons to renew their commitment of service to their brothers and sisters. It is in the Eucharist that "the community of consecrated persons., becomes a witness of communion and a prophetic sign of solidarity for a divided and wounded society. In fact, the spirituality of communion, so necessary to establish the dialogue of charity needed in today's world, is born in the Eucharist." What Jesus did on Calvary was no less than give his life, which was "the greatest expression of his love--and the Eucharist relives the mystery of this moment" (§27). By the practice of asceticism, consecrated men and women demonstrate their wish to be united to the Son of God. Self-denial, which is to be "consonant with our times," associates consecrated persons to Christ. Then they seek his suffering face, as they do when they console the sick, the imprisoned, the poor, and sinners. The outreach rendered by consecrated persons has encouraged those they have assisted to have recourse to the sacrament of reconciliation. Consecrated men and women, too, must regularly avail themselves of confession. Given the new moral and spiritual poverties of our age, consecrated personsare to do as Jesus would: aid the needy in their trials and "take upon themselves the pain and the sin of the world, consuming them in love." Communion: Sine Qua Non for Consecrated Life The "spirituality of communion" compels consecrated persons to do all. they can to start or continue a dialogue rooted in charity. Attempts to spread communion by consecrated men and women are to encompass all 23 62.1 2003 Mangan ¯ The Spirituality of "Starting Afresh" peoples, but especially those who reside in locations oppressed by ethnic hatred or violence. For consecrated persons, communion begins in their contemplation of the Blessed Trinity dwelling within the human soul. All persons, then, are seen as brothers and sisters worthy of love and respect. Consecrated persons offer their friendship and compassion, desiring to share in the sufferings of the burdened. Communion is the extension of consecrated persons to those outside of their community, but it also has an intra dimension within their community. "The divine and human value of being together freely in friendship and sharing even moments of relaxation and recreation together as disciples gathered around Christ the Teacher is being rediscovered" (§29). Communion among different communities of the same institute is also vital. Vita consecrata, Novo millennio ineunte, and "Fraternal Life in Community," the 2 February 1994 instruction issued by CICLSAL, are helpful in understanding the notion and application of communion. Every endeavor to sustain communion among institutes should be fostered. A "joint search for common ways of serving the church" (§30) ensures that a crippling isolation need not hold sway. The following of Jesus Christ by consecrated persons is to be enjoyed together among various institutes. Consecrated men and women gain much from being exposed to the solid "ecclesial movements" that have recently blossomed in the church. An exchange between institutes and these movements benefits each. Consecrated men and women are to collaborate and experience communion with the laity. This cooperation is multifaceted. "Monastic and contemplative institutes can offer the laity a relationship that is primarily spiritual and the necessary spaces for silence and prayer. Institutes committed to the apostolate can involve them in forms of pastoral collaboration. Members of secular institutes, lay Review for Religious or clerical, relate to other members of the faithful at the level of everyday life" (§31). There is a host of secular orders, third orders, and lay associations that enable the laity to live to some degree "the charismatic ideals" of religious institutes. Formation of consecrated persons and the laity will facilitate these projects and permit them to continue. The long-anticipated renewal of consecrated life will reap the fruits of this cooperation. "In this new climate of ecclesial communion, priests, religious, and the laity, far from ignoring each other or coming together only for a common activity, can once again find the just relationships of communion and a renewed experience of evangelical communion and mutual charismatic esteem resulting in a complemen-tarity which respects the differences." Communion is a mere chimera if the bishops, including the bishop of Rome, are left out of the equation. We marvel at the genuine sentiment of "feeling with the church" that marked the lives of the founders and foundresses of institutes. "It is impossible to contemplate the face of God without seeing it shining in that of the church. To love Christ is to love the church in her persons and institutions" (§32). In this period of frequent and even public dissent from the church's teachings, consecrated men and women must be the exception. They are to be "convinced and joyful spokespersons before all" of the magisterium's proclamation of the truth. Consecrated persons are to Consecrated men and women gain much from being exposed to the solid " ecclesial movements" that have recently blossomed in the church. 2~ 62.1 2003 Mangan * The Spirituality of "Starting Afresh" give their allegiance of mind and heart to the magisterium. Consecrated persons enjoy the liberty to make known to their bishops and to the diocesan clergy with whom. they work their opinions and proposals. The church's charismatic and hierarchical elements upbuild each other. Starting Afresh from Christ is a restatement at the beginning of this millennium of the cherished principles of consecrated life. The spiritual life is keenly stressed because of its inarguable primacy for all consecrated men and women. May consecrated persons, imitating the Blessed Virgin Mary, in whom "all the charisms of consecrated life are mirrored and renewed" (§46), increase in their ardor for the face of Christ and his church and start afresh to serve, in true communion and charity, their brothers and sisters. Starting Afresh from Christ: A Renewed Commitment to Consecrated Life in the Third Millennium was published by the Libreria Editrice Vaticana in Vatican City and may be found on the Vatican website (www.vatican.va). See also Origins 32, no. 8 (4July 2002). 26A Plea Lord, I want to be the lamb you cuddle to your cheek; the one you rescue from tight places, that very one you seek whose senseless straying your vast love pursues; whose wounds you bind, heal. The one, if ever lost, you rush to find. Avis Kunca Kubick Review for Religious WILLIAM P. O'BRIEN Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises In the summer of 2000, I participated in a spir-itual- direction practicum with Jane Ferdon Op and George Murphy SJ at the Jesuit School of Theology in Berkeley, California. George and Jane teach a contemplative approach to spiri-tual direction, by which the director seeks to help the directee focus on and remain with expe-riences of God.~ That fall I put this approach into practice, offering individual spiritual direc-tion and, the following summer, giving person-ally directed eight-day retreats at Jesuit Retreat House in Los Altos, California. Later that sum-mer I accepted an invitation to join a team to direct the thirty-day Spiritual Exercises at Milford Spiritual Center in Milford, Ohio. Although eager for the experience, I worried that the contemplative approach might not work for the long retreat, with its thoroughly out-lined series of meditations. To my wonder and William P. O'Brien SJ is doing graduate study in spiritual-ity at the Jesuit School of Theblogy at Berkeley. His address is 2535 Le Conte Avenue; Berkeley, California 94709. o2.1 2003 O'Brien ¯ Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises~ delight, I found that, because God moves people in ways the Exercises follow and promote, the contemplative approach does indeed work in that context. Other direc-tors have had similar experiences.2 Reflecting on this, I have come up with a simplified model for understanding the interior movement in peo-ple making the long retreat. In the first part of this essay, I examine a progression of dialectical shifts. Then I show that the text of the Exercises, follows such a progression. In light of these findings, I propose that the enterprise of spiritual direction calls the retreat director to trust God more deeply as the true master of souls. Quotations of the Exercises are from the Ivens translation.3 Interior Movement as Dialectic The human soul in contact with God tends to behave in characteristic movements of negation and affirmation. This may lead to either spiritual desolation or spiritual consolation, depending upon how the retreatant responds, but there is always an invitation to know God more deeply.4 As people grow in relationship with God, they find themselves more focused on others and conse-quently less on themselves. In this process we can distinguish five progressive moments as the heart receives God's love.5 The first is when the self deeply realizes that it exists rather than not existing. The second is when the existing self, believ-ing itself bad, sees itself as good. The third is when the good self, recognizing its sinfulness, finds itself forgiven. The fourth is when the forgiven self, feeling conflicted, hears itself called. And the fifth is when the called self, now deeply aware of its limitation, experiences itself accepted by God. Each new moment incorporates the resolution from the preceding moment. Thus, for exam-ple, before the self can deeply recognize its sinfulness, it already must have seen its basic goodness.6 The deepest Review for Religious union with God implies the other four moments. In other words, to discover the depth of negation and affir-mation in our lives constitutes spiritual growth. People may wonder here whether these interior moments represent a historical or logical reality, and whether the progression happens necessarily. First, because people can recog-nize these moments in themselves and in others, we can say that they are pat-terns in their life histories and therefore have a histor-ical character. Furthermore, because each new moment presupposes the preceding one and tends to develop into the next, we can see a certain logic here. But, because the movement has to do with making choices freely and with developing personal relationships, we cannot speak of any histori-cal necessity in the progres-sion. In other words, although reflecting on the dynamic can help us recognize interior movements in a retreatant, we cannot predict those movements. And, while the pro-gressive moments seem to have an internal logic, nei-ther can we deduce the moments necessarily as we might draw a conclusion from premises. The interior life oper-ates through psychological, social, and biological realities, not abstract ideas. But the strongest evidence that the progression does not develop in a necessary fashion is that retreatants often revisit moments they appear to have resolved. Some retreatants one day have a strong sense of their own sin- While we cannot know for sure where God will lead any of us, we can recognize general patterns and thus a common ¯ spiritual dynamic in the .unique histories of particular retreatants. 62.1 2003 O'Brien ¯ Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises fulness and God's forgiveness, only to return a little later to those same issues. Others make the long retreat a number of times, apparently engaging the same pro-gression over and over again. From these cases it appears that we cannot claim to have finished with a moment once and for all, and that most retreatants move moment to moment according to a more or less natural develop-ment. Many variables influence their movements, includ-ing circumstances, free will, and the intention of the Spirit, And so, while we cannot know for sure where God will lead any of us, we can recognize general pat-terns and thus a common spiritual dynamic in the unique histories of particular retreatants. Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises We have considered how the soul in touch with God appears to move dialectically according to an interior spiritual dynamic. Those giving the long retreat can facil-itate this movement by paying attention to the charac-teristic patterns of the Spirit's work in retreatants and as the Spiritual Exercises describe and track them. To ini-tiate this process, directors might give retreatants some time to reflect on God's presence, beginning with a recognition of their desires--if only the desire to make the retreat) Some instruction in prayer methods may help: centering prayer, lectio divina, consciousness exa-men, and so forth. Directors also may want to share with retreatants the Annotations from the beginning of the text (§§1-20), as Ignatius suggests,s Through this reflec-tion retreatants typically begin to recognize both the gift quality of their lives and God's personal love for them-- the first two moments of the dialectic wherein they real-ize that they exist and see themselves as good. Retreatants seem to receive these initial graces more as movements of the affect than as the acquisition of ideas, which is to say they sense that their lives come as free gifts and they Review for Religious feel loved by God. Directors should encourage these movements in any way possible, perhaps by sharing some scripture passages or the text of the First Principle and Foundation (§23). As retreatants grow in awareness of God's love for them, they often notice that certain internal factors block their acceptance of this love. In Quest for Sanctity Gerald Grosh includes among these factors an adherence to legalistic principles, an acquiescence to addictive impulses, and a propensity to think badly of oneself.9 The challenge for directors now involves recognizing these blockages and help!ng retreatants negotiate them by focusing on the presence of God. Retreatants take more or less time to accept God's love and the gift quality of their lives, and some may never do so. In any case, directors must keep in mind that the Spirit directs the retreat and controls the giving of graces. To work against the Spirit by moving to some Other moment of the dynamic or some other part of the Exercises generally results in confusion and frustration for all involved. Having received these initial graces, sometimes as dramatic and consoling experiences, retreatants often begin to consider on their own how they have responded to God's love and gift of life. At this point they may sense in themselves a tendency to move away from God--the tendency we call sin. We can think of sin as the shadow that each of us casts in the light of God's love. Awareness of this shadow signals movement into what Ignatius calls the First Week of the Exercises, where the various med-itations serve to develop this awareness of and contri-tion for personal sin. The grace of this week thus appears in recognizing oneself as a loved sinner--that God con-tinues to affirm us despite our propensity to turn away.~° Awareness exercises such as examens of conscience and consciousness can help in this process (§§24-43). 62.1 2003 O'Brien * Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises At this point in the Exercises, Ignatius introduces the four-part prayer method by which retreatants express their intention for the prayer period at hand (§46), con-sider the setting of the meditation they plan to make (§47), ask for the particular grace they desire (§481, and engage in heart-to-heart communication with God and the other figures who appear to the imagination (§§53-54). He then presents the familiar content of five exercises to follow: the history of sin--among the angels (§50), among the first humans (§51), and of any particular person (§52); a meditation on one's own sins (§§55-61); a repetition of the previous exercise and a "colloquy" with Mary, Jesus, and God the Father (§§62-63); a more general summary exercise (§64); and the meditation on hell (§§65-71). These five exercises engage retreatants sequentially, help-ing them focus first on their egocentrism before leading them to consider their idolatry and their way of treating others as things, to meditate on their core sin, to recog-nize their fundamental need for salvation, and finally to dwell on the spontaneous sense of gratitude they feel for having received that salvation as a free gift. The impor-tance of the meditations thus lies in the inner experience they track rather than in their content, and directors may use material as seems appropriate.11 Finding themselves saved (forgiven) humbles retreatants and helps them see themselves as loved sin-ners, which marks the third moment of the dialectic. In this feeling of humility lies the key to the movement out of the First and into the Second Week, as gratitude stirs the retreatants to know the One who saved them. They often experience this desire as a call to which they respond with timidity and reluctance, feeling their inter-nal conflict. Resolution of this conflict marks the fourth movement of the dialectic, which the meditation on the Call of the King develops (§§91-98). To expand the desire to know their Savior, retreatants may find it helpful to Review for Religious .meditate on the early life of Jesus: incarnation and annun-ciation (8§101-109), nativity (88110-117), presentation and flight into Egypt (8132), finding in the temple (8134), Nazareth and baptism--even up to the temptation, as this seems in keeping with their sensibilities. The retreatants' attraction to Jesus naturally grows as they consider him in his poverty, transparency, and vul-nerability. But, as they come to know and identify with him, they may notice that an attraction within themselves to riches, honor, and pride forestalls deeper intimacy. This awareness of personal limitation begins to resolve itself in the fifth moment as they feel ever more deeply God's acceptance of them as they are. The preference for the way of Jesus thus represents not sim-ply an external "doctrine" (8145), but the retreatants' own intuition into themselves and the One who saved them. The Two Standards meditation follows this move-ment (88136-147), but directors may encourage the dynamic using other materials. Here retreatants natu-rally begin to reflect on their availability to choose iden-tification with Jesus in concrete situations and consider how ready they might or might not be to follow him unreservedly. Ignatius proposes the meditation on Three Classes of People to facilitate this reflection (88149-156), but again directors may suggest other resources. In considering the depth of their commitment, retreatants may feel drawn to reflect on how Jesus lived out these values in his own public ministry, so that they learn to serve by watching him serve. Passages from Scripture might help engage this sense of vocation and The retreatants" attraction to Jesus naturally grows as they consider him in his poverty, transparency, and vulnerability. 62.1 2003 O'Brien ¯ Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises mission, as may biographies of holy men and women (§ 100). Meditation on the public ministry of Jesus, which can take from seven to twelve days or more (§§158-161), often leads retreatants to a greater or lesser feeling of love for him. Ignatius invites retreatants to reflect on this range of feelings as Three Kinds of Humility (§§ 165- 168), but directors once again may use a variety of mate-rials in order to develop the heartfelt but qualified desire for intimacy with God. As this desire grows in retreatants, they may want to walk with jesus through his Passion (§§190-209), as this leads to deeper union with the one they first experienced as Savior, signaling movement into the Third Week. As always, the director encourages retreatants to remain focused on God's presence and to respond generously to the invitations of the Spirit (§5). To help maintain this focus, Ignatius suggests attention to eating habits (§§210-217). At some point, retreatants may want to consider the buria! and subsequent resurrection of Jesus as recorded in the Scriptures and tracked in the meditations for the Fourth Week (§§218-225). John English suggests that an imperative to "go and tell other people" might arise here from the retreatants' own prayer, further calling them out of themselves.~2 Regardless, the focus must remain on God's call. The dynamic continues to engen-der a deepening of affirmation through the various moments as retreatants recognize God's loving action everywhere. The director may want to use the Contemplation to Attain Love as a means to promote this movement (§§230-237). A Call to Trust Recognizing the dynamic in both the Exercises and the experience of my retreatants encourages me as direc-tor to trust that God rather than I or the retreatants ini- Review for Religious tiates and sustains the movement. Accordingly I think of my role primarily as helping retreatants bring to birth in therhselves the fruit of the Spirit.~3 In so doing I facil-itate the work of the parakletos who leads Christians to deeper appreciation of the Gospels' truth and strength-ens them in difficulty.~4 Peter-Hans Kolvenbach uses similar language in describing the retreatant as "one who wishes to be seized by the Spirit and who goes to another for help about how to let that happen--help which will not 'hinder.'" Kolvenbach rightly emphasizes the desires of the retreatant for God and for help in engaging God, such that "both [the giver and the receiver of the Exercises] ought to stay attentive to what the Spirit is doing rather than to what the one giving the Exercises might seem to suggest." Kolvenbach critiques two oppos-ing extremes of direction style, one he characterizes as the "disappearing director" and the other as the "over-rigid director." as The former takes a hands-off approach, erring on the side of no help, while ~he latter takes a hands-on approach, erring on the side of interference. In fulfilling their charge, directors learn to walk a mid-dle road focused on God's presence. Having said this, we cannot ignore the need many retreatants express for practical training and assistance to hear God speak. As they come to resonate with the voice of the Spirit, they still may look for explicit help from their directors until eventually. ~he directors find themselves walking With their retreatants, primarily as companions or listening aides. But note that the interior development of the retreatant under the guidance of the Spirit sets the tone for the relationship rather than any plan in the mind of the director. Again, the director's role involves helping retreatants attend to religious experience. Any change in the relationship between director and retreatant as the retreat progresses should thus come as both grow in spir-itual freedom from hearing and trusting God. O'Brien ¯ Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises Notes t For a description of this approach, see William A. Barry SJ "The Contemplative Attitude in Spiritual Direction," Review for Religious 35 (1976): 820-828. z For an early account see William A. Barry SJ, "The Experience of the First and Second Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises," Review for Religious 32 (1973): 102-109. 3 Michael Ivens SJ, Understanding the Spiritual Exercises: Text and Commentary: A Handbook for Retreat Direciors (Leominster, Here-fordshire: Gracewing, 1998). For a more technical analysis of the Spiritual Exercises using Hegelian categories, see Edouard Pousset SJ, Life in Faith and Freedom: An Essay Presenting. Gaston Fessard's Analysis of the Dialectic of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, ed. and trans. Eugene L. Donahue SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1980). 4 The terms "spiritual desolation" and "spiritual consolation" refer to the existential orientation of the human soul in relation to God. The states come about from either rejecting relationship with the Lord (desolation) or choosing it (consolation). Spiritual conso-lation reveals itself in love of the creator and the love of creation implicit therein, an increase of hope, faith, and charity, and peace of soul; spiritual desolation reveals itself in their opposites (§§314-317). 5 The term "moment" here refers, not to an interval in time, but to a passage in the interior life. Avoiding such terms as "phase" and "step" is meant here to discourage thinking of the spiritual journey as analogous to either growing up or ascending a ladder. Souls, in fact, seem to progress in a spiral rather than linear fashion, such that we constandy find ourselves revisiting interior spaces and relearning spiritual lessons as our relationship with God deepens. This being said, each successive "moment" implies those preceding it, as fur-ther explained in the body of this article and in footnote 6. 6 Because interaction with God changes people, each moment constitutes a different way of experiencing the dynamic of negation and acceptance. In this sense such terms as "conflicted self" and "limited self" refer to specific moments in the progression, even though we ordinarily speak of sinfulness as internal conflict or lim-itation. The idea is that, having experienced forgiveness (see Lk 15:21-24), we still find ourselves capable of turning away from God. For this reason we speak of God's affirmation in the fourth moment not as forgiveness but as a call to discipleship (see Lk 5:1-10). Personal sin here recedes as the theme, yet we still feel our defi-ciency, now understood as internal conflict. Having accepted the call, we experience negation not primarily as sinfulness or conflict but Review for Religious as all that precludes a full response--our circumstances, self-image, sinfulness, disordered affections, and so forth. We thus speak of God's affirmation in the fifth moment as the entirety of our accep-tance (see Lk 15:31-32). 7 On the importance of bringing our desires before God, see James M. Keegan sJ, "Praying with Desire," Human Development 11:3 (Fall 1990): 35. Keegan argues that we make ourselves avail-able to God by voicing what we want and thus opening the possibility of a mutual relationship. s "Autograph Directory of St. Ignatius," in On Giving the Spiritual Exercises: The Early Jesuit Manuscript Directories and the Official Directory of I Y99, trans, and ed. Martin E. Palmer SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), p. 7. 9 Gerald R. Grosh SJ, Quest for Sanctity: Seven Passages to Growth in Faith (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1988). ,0 This sense of sin differs from the low self-esteem that can block the retreatant from initially accepting God's love. Until retreatants, accept God's unconditional love, they cannot see them-selves as sinfully choosing to reject it. ~' As Ivens explains, "this stage of the Exercises consists not in any way of meditating on sin and repentance, but in material and a dynamic of a particular character" (p. 45). ,2 John English SJ, Spiritual Freedom (Chicago: Loyola Press, 1995), pp. 231-232. ~3 Joyce Diltz develops this metaphor at length in "The Spiritual Director as Midwife," Presence 2:1 (January 1996): 18. ~4John 14:16; 14:26; 15:26; 16:7. ~s Peter-Hans Kolvenbach sJ, "Discourse on Exercises and Co- Workers," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 33, no. 1 (2002): 28, 30, and 31-31. 37 62.1 200~ JOAN L. ROCCASALVO Ignatian Women Past and Future T graced beginnings of the Society of Jesus are ompletely known if the women who participated in its vision are left out: "one gains the impression that ¯ . . the Society owes its existence to many women.''1 This article speaks of women who participated in the early Society's apostolic work and supported its ministry; it looks at four religious institutes with an Ignatian spir-ituality and at religious-life issues in the United States; and it offers a suggestion for renewal.2 The Past: 1491-1556, 1650, 1877 In 1540 Pope Paul III officially recognized the Society of Jesus. Neither monks nor friars, the early Jesuits devoted themselves to pressing apostolic needs of the day. They undertook an itinerant ministry. In early Christianity, women participated in a peri-patetic ministry. The apostolic labors of the church fathers are copiously detailed, but recent scholarship reveals that women matched them, setting an example for other women.3 In the 16th century, lines of societal Joan L. Roccasalvo CSJ wrote for us twice in 2001. Her address is University of Scranton; Center for Eastern Christifin Studies; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510. Review for Relig4ous demarcation for women were clear. Women either married or entered the cloister, and prostitution was common. The ministry of nuns was an extension of their monastic enclosure. Upper-class women ran their house-holds, enjoyed mobility and independence, and numbers of them shared in Ignatius's apostolate. After the death of Ignatius's mother soon after his birth in 1491, he was put in the care of his sister-in-law Magdalena, who provided him with a courtly education. A pious and educated aunt, Maria de Guevara, a third-order Franciscan, had established a cloister next to a hos-pital. She. fostered Ignatius's lifelong commitment to hospital ministry. While recuperating, at Loyola from a leg wound sustained at Pamplona, the young man read lives of Christ and the saints when nothing else was avail-able. Inspired by their lives, he set out to emulate them. Ignatius traveled to the celebrated Benedictine monastery at Montserrat, a place of pilgrimage to this day. There, before a statue of Our Lady of Montserrat (the Black Madonna), in keeping with the chivalric code and in pilgrim's garb, he kept an all-night vigil. On 24 March 1522 he placed his sword before the Mother of God and sang and prayed with other pilgrims.4 Ignatian Women in the 16th Century At Manresa, Ignatius the layman experienced the ulti-mate combat, the battle within. During a period of con-solation, he received five graces near the River Cardoner: mystical illuminations of the Holy Trinity, creation, the Eucharist, the incarnation, and matters of faith and learn-ing. Thereafter he was fond of speaking about all good gifts coming from above. The Spiritual Exercises embody these graces and are forever linked with them.5 Ignatius called Manresa "his primitive church" because here his world-vision was born and took shape.6 Women were the first to benefit from the Exercises.7 62.1 2003 Among those who followed him and looked after his needs were In~s Pascual, an influential widow, and Jer6nima Clavera, administrator of Santa Lucia hospi-tal for the indigent? He made the acquaintance of Isabel Roser. Writing to her fifteen years later, he says: "I am indebted to each one [of the women] and chiefly to you-- for to you I owe more than to anyone I know in this life.''9 The townspeople called Ignatius "the sack man";l° the women were known as "Ifiigas," followers of Ifiigo (his Basque name).ll An elderly woman who impressed Ignatius with her wisdom and holiness told him of her desire that one day Jesus Christ would appear to him.12 Years later Ignatius spoke of his vision, at La Storta near Rome, of the Father with his Son carrying his cross, telling Ignatius, "I want you to serve us. I will be propitious to you in Rome.''13 "If," as Garcla-Mateo notes, "one reflects that the stay in Manresa was the most decisive time in Ignatius's spiritual development, then the role of these women is very sig-nificant." 14 Though Ignatius was schooled in matters of faith, he saw the need for more education in faith and learning. From 1523 to 1538 he studied in Barcelona, Alcalfi, Salamanca, Paris, and Venice. In Barcelona, Ignatius's vision attracted women of the upper class. He instructed them in the Exercises, and they helped him minister to the poor and sick.15 Estefania de Reques6ns, Guiomar Gralla, and the gifted Isabel de Josa all revered him as an apostle.16 In Alcalfi Ignatius met some fifty women of the lower class. He shared his conversion story and gave them the Exercises. Ignatius found himself suspected of being an alumbrado, an "enlightened" one.17 Townspeople gossiped. When two Ifiigas disappeared, the gossip intensified, and he was imprisoned. Sometime later Maria de la Flor, a prostitute, made the Exercises. Desirous of retreating to the desert like St. Mary of Egypt,18 she remarked that Ignatius was Review for Religious the first man who did not regard her as an object.19 These women defended him at his trial. In Salamanca it was the same pattern: giving the Exercises, ministry, suspi-cion, interrogation, and imprisonment by inquisitors. Ignatius and his Society-in-the-making continued studies in Paris and Venice. Financial need pressed him once again to request help from ladies in Barcelona. They sent him and his companions the equivalent of "care packages," which helped sustain them during their studies.2° In Rome Ignatius created a new apostolate where women could help other women.21 For prostitutes decid-ing to reform their lives, the convent had been their only option. Yet many felt no attrac-tion to the cloister. And so in 1543 Ignatius, after receiving financial support, mostly from his loyal women friends, and with ecclesiastical backing, founded St. Martha's, a house for endangered girls. Isabel Roser, widowed and childless, took up a leadership position and lived there with two companions. Under Cardinal Carpi's patronage, they formed La Compagnia della Grazia. The car-dinal asked the Society to under-take the temporary spiritual direction of the institution.22 Other wealthy laywomen joined in the work at St. Martha's: Lucrezia de Bradine, Juana de Arag6n, Margaret of Austria, and Leonor Osorio, who took sixteen young prostitutes into her household and procured marriage dowries for them.23 The work of St. Martha's flourished and became a model for foundations in Messina, Valencia, other cities. At the end of 1543, nearly one hundred women were seeking a new life at St. Martha's)4 The townspeople called Ignatius "the sack man"; the women were known as "I£igas," followers of I£igo. 41 62. I 200~? Roccasalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future Women responded with munificence to the end of Ignatius's life. The Society's most generous donors were Faustina de' Jancolini, who bequeathed her house and lands to Ignatius,. and Donna Maria Frassoni del Gesso, who gave 70,000 gold scudi for the construction of the Jesuit church and college in Ferrara. Without their help Ignatius could not have expanded the Society's apostolate. These generous women became known as "the most lov-ing mother(s) of the Society of Jesus."25 Women Seek Admission into the Order: 1545-1552 It was only a matter of time before several apostoli-cally minded women, married or widowed, sought admis-sion into the young Society of Jesus. Their request seemed logical. Ignatius had given them the Exercises; they participated in apostolic works and had given their estates or large sums of money to the order. Now they wanted to enter the Society. They too would be engaged in an itinerant ministry--or so they thought. In 1545 Isabel Roser and her two companions asked to be admit-ted into the Society. She appealed to Paul Ill and received his permission. Ignatius then received their vows.26 A female branch of the Society was temporarily established, but, when Isabel embroiled Ignatius in family squabbles, he sought papal intervention.27 Licet debitum, promul-gated in 1549, freed the Society from any permanent responsibility for women. It reinforced the Jesuit promise of mobility and granted the general of the Society per-mission to send members "to teach theology and all. dis-ciplines 'anywhere.'''28 Still, to avoid inflexibility, Ignatius permitted his men to hear the confessions of nuns on occasion, but Jesuits were forbidden to serve as their res-ident chaplains or regular confessors. Jesuits were sometimes asked to help in the reformof convents and monasteries, a priority of the Catholic Review for Religious Reformation. Sister Teresa Rajadell, a Benedictine nun, and others sought admission into the Society because of corrupt conditions in monasteries. Of the four letters Ignatius wrote ~to Sister Teresa, the first remains a model of spiritual direction. Meanwhile other laywomen attempted to imitate Isabel Roser's initiative: Francis B0rgia's sisters-in-law Juana de Meneses Barreto and the wealthy Sebastiana Exarch, who without her husband's knowledge was ready to make a vow of obedience to her confessor after completing the Exercises. Sebastiana's letter reached Ignatius in the middle of his difficulties with Isabel Roser. The letter is significant because, in a con-versation with Jesuit Father Araoz, the bishop of Barcelona "criticized the pastoral meth-ods of the Jesuits, especially in that they gave women the Spiritual Exercises to perform 'in profound secrecy and silence' after the manner of the suspect Mumbrados." Juana de Cardona was willing to do anything to be received into the Society: i'epeat the Exercises, divest her-self of revenues, relatives, and friends, and serve in the Society by pledging herself as a pilgrim and missionary-- she would obey "even unto death.''29 The willful Jeronima Pezzani took a vow of obedi-ence to Ignatius without telling him first. With her large donations and her rule and constitutions, she planned on helping the Society set up colleges in Parma and Cremona. She and her companions hoped to transform the House of St. Martha into a convent of "Jesuitesses." 30 Ignatius's refusal to accept women into the order was not because of an enmity toward them, but because of the circumstances of the time. 62. I 2003 Roccasalvo * lgnatian Women Past and Future "It needs to be Understood," writes Garcia-Mateo, "that Ignatius's refusal to accept women into the order was not because of an enmity toward them, but because of the circumstances of the time.''31 He remained unbudgeable in all cases but one. Infanta Juana, Regent of Spain In 1555, by way of exception, Princess Juana, daugh-ter of Charles V and sister of Philip II, pressured her way into the Society through the influence of Francis Borgia. Because of internal hostility to the Society, any denial of her request might jeopardize their work in Spain. To ensure their apostolic freedom, Ignatius bowed to her wishes, but a discreet letter to her betrayed his reluc-tance. As "Marco Sfinchez," her membership was to be kept a strict secret in the Society. Juana's courtly way of life remained unchanged. Her apostolic availability was limited, but she did what was possible in her double life. As her own superior, she safeguarded and advanced Jesuit works. She took first vows as a scholastic, but never became a fully professed member of the Society. On the one hand, Juana used her power to help the Society defend itself against the attacks of some churchmen. She gave a large amount for the founding of a college at Valladolid and wrote a letter to support the foundation in Louvain. On the other hand, she caused anxiety when "murmurs began to arise in Spain, and especially in court circles, against the 'Jesuit government'., and against 'Jesuitical practices' in her 'palatial convent.'" In 1573 the anomalous lady Jesuit died, outliving Ignatius by sev-enteen years. "The experiment was never repeated," notes John O'Malley.32 Ignatian Women: Role Models for the Future The remarkable deeds of the Ifiigas prompted Ignatius to favor the establishment of a company of Review for Religious women that with missionary mobility could devote itself entirely to apostolic work.33 This vision would be realized beginning in the mid 17th century. An Ignatian institute may be distinguished in four ways: "through reliance on Ignatian texts in the formulation of their own constitu-tion, through influence by individual Jesuits, by model-ing certain works or structures on those of the Society of Jesus, and by inspiration drawn from Ignatian Christological and apostolic visions.''34 Among these groups are the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary (IBVM), the Sisters of St. Joseph(csJ/ssJ), the Society of the Sacred Heart of Jesus (RSCJ), and the Faithful Companions of Jesus (FCJ).3s A short summary about each is offered here. Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary: 17th Century In 1612 Mary Ward, a precocious woman not yet thirty years old, gained official approval from the Franciscan James Blaise, bishop of St. Omer, to form the Institute of Mary, modeled on the Society's way of life. Hearing in prayer the words "Take the same of the Society," she understood them to mean take Jesuit ideas and practices "insofar as they are applicable to women." Apostolically mobile, her sisters wore no distinctive garb. In 1629 Mary's brave vision resulted in a brief impris-onment and the suppression of the institute. Isolated Jesuits like Roger Lee and John Gerard supported her enterprise, but, because her institute resembled the Society, it encountered opposition from Jesuits them-selves and from seminary priests who resented the new institute's freedom. Though it claimed no dependence on the Jesuits,. its members were labeled "Jesuitesses" and Rogerites.36 Despite the bishop's public support, the Holy See intervened. In 1630 "Urban VIII signed the bull of sup-pression [declaring the institute] 'suppressed, extinct4,5 62.1 2003 Roccasalvo * Ignatian Women Past and Future rooted out, destroyed, and abolished.'" In 1877 the insti-tute was officially approved as the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It professes: "Inspired by Mary Ward's vision, we will claim more passionately and live more radically our Ignatian spirituality and share it more widely with those among whom we live and work." 37 The Sisters of St. Joseph: 17th Century In 1650 six apostolically minded women, guided by the French Jesuit Jean-Pierre Mddaille (+1669), were officially recognized as the Daughters of St. Joseph. These women ministered to others outside the cloister without religious habit, but wearing a distinctive attire-- that of the widows of Le Puy.38 Like the Jesuits, the Sisters of St. Joseph embraced a wide ministry: "ready for everything, available for all.''39 An institute parallel-ing the Society's apostolic mobility, envisioned by Ignatius, was at last established for women. The charism of the Sisters of St. Joseph is embodied in their consensus statement referring to "an Ignatian- Salesian climate.''4° Father M~daille gave the first Sisters of St. Joseph theSpiritual Exercises in the form of max-ims or proverbs, a 17th-century genre. The Exercises are their matrix and inspiration. The Maxims depend on the Exercises for their internal structure. St. Francis de Sales "lived under Jesuit direction from his school days onward, he made the Spiritual Exercises annually, and he took as his apostolic model the life and work of.St. Charles Borromeo.''41 The Introduction to the Devout Life emerges from the schema and content of the Exercises, with many passages paraphrased avec douceur from the Exercises. The Society of the Sacred Heart: 19th Century In 1800 St. Madeleine Sophie Barat (+1865) founded the Society of the Sacred Heart. Madeleine Sophie's intent was to begin a company of women parallel to the Review for Religious then suppressed Society of Jesus whose work would be to revitalize Christian life in France. Her motto was "unity and conformity to the Heart of Jesus." The constitu-tions, based on those of the Jesuits, were approved by Leo XII in .1826.42 The Society of the Sacred Heart resembled the Jes-uits, stressing the rigorous spiritual and intellectual training of its nuns. With its coherent plan of studies especially in the humanities, its interna-tional network of schools educated young women worldwide. In 1818 St. Philippine Duchesne made a foundation in the United States. In 1964 the Religious of the Sacred Heart removed their rule of cloister. ¯ In 1820 the Faithful Companions of Jesus (FCJ) were founded in Amiens, France, byMarie Madeleine de Bonnault de d'Hoiiet. Impressed by the Society of Jesus, she founded an institute bearing the Holy Name and following the Jesuit constitutions. An international con-gregation, they profess: "In the Exercises we contem-plate the life of Jesus, coming into personal contact with him and interiorizing his attitudes and values.''43 The Society of the Sacred Heart resembled the Jesuits, stressing the rigorous spiritual and intellectual training of its nuns. Catherine the Great and the Society of Jesus The suppression of the Society of Jesus (1773-1814) was affected by the three-power partition of Poland .in 1772. The papal bull of suppression was not promul-gated in the part that had come under the rule of Russia's Catherine the Great. She valued the educational work of the two hundred Jesuits living there and permitted them to teach in what was called White Russia. By the Roccasalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future time of the Society's restoration in 1814, their numbers had increased to 337.44 How women advanced the Society's apostolic mission during the suppression is a rich topic for research. Catherine was no Ignatian woman, but she kept the Society's flame burning during a dark night in its history. Issues of Religious Life Perfectae caritatis mandated that religious live more in line with the modern world. The universal call to holi-ness proclaimed anew by Lumen gentium (§§3 3, 40) urged the laity to engage in "the saving mission of the church itself." A recent document on religious life says, "If. the thii'd millennium will be the time of promotion of the laity, of associations, and of ecclesial movements, we can rightfully ask, What place will be reserved for the traditional forms of consecrated life?''45 Perfectae caritatis does not clearly differentiate reli-gious life from the lay state, as sociologist Patricia Wittberg SC reminds us.46 Lumen gentium and Perfectae caritatis declare a distinction of degree, though not of kind.47 Experience tells us that religious do belong to a distinct category, as we shall see.48 Prophetic Witness Religious life is "mainly the fruit of the free and dynamic action of the Spirit in the church; it is a charis-matic way of life" existing since the early centuries of the church. If religious life is marked by its prophetic witness, its characteristic sign is the vow of consecrated celibacy. It accepts God's gift of friendship and "is best disposed for the development of a life of prayer and con-templation." 49 Consecrated celibacy is an attitude and a fundamen-tal choice affecting a person's entire life. One's center of affectivity is Christ himself, whose love is centered Review for Religious totally on his Father. His love embraces all. So with con-secrated celibacy. No other person may substitute for Christ at the center of one's heart. Because this vow touches every aspect of one's experience, it involves "a certain affective renunciation and a solitude of the heart which form part of the cross offered [to them] by Christ.''5° Supported by community friendships, the love of consecrated chastity excludes no one. Companionship in Christ frees celibate women and men for service to others without the demands of close family ties. The world is their family. Solitude and strong friendships, contemplation and action, are dynamically balanced. Religious women and men stand as external signs of God's presence and activity in the world. In a secularized environment their prophetic witness focuses not on themselves but beyond themselves, on Christian values and ultimately on God. Religious life is the Spirit's great gift of love to the church. Particular Charisms When consecrated persons are attracted to a partic-ular vision of Christ's paschal mystery given to a founder or a small group, they will assume that same vision,s~ A charism begins with an unmerited religious experience of depth and intensity by which God singles out an individual and touches that person with an unforgettable experience of love in Which he or she is given a special vision of the Divine Majesty. The mode of receiving the charism is shaped by the person's historical and cultural conditioning as well as by his or her temperament, human gifts, and limitations, all of which Christians recognize as the effects of God's active love in history,s2 The charisms of the Benedictines, Dominicans, 62.1 2003 Franciscans, and Jesuits define who they are. Each order was founded by a person to address a specific need and mission at a specific time in the church. The Jesuits expanded their apostolic focus to include the whole world for their mission. Like the call of .Christ to his disciples, orders attract followers to their founder's way of life and to their graced activities, the attraction often preceding knowledge of the founder's name. But sooner or later the various orders must elicit each candidate's deep-down commitment. Each order, like a perfume, gives off a uniquely identifying, fragrance: A whiff of Benedictine spirituality is detected the moment you step. into the interior of an abbey church. After.weeks, a chemical reac-tion occurs between monastic life and .the human spirit. You discern the Benedictine heart notes: a blend of chant, Liturgy of the Hours, lectio divina, work in the fields. Silence and solitude are the fixatives lending constancy. Then there's the interplay with a monk's chemistry. Differences exist for those wearing the perfume as a signature. Yet you recognize the underlying Benedictine fra-grance . The nuns at an abbey in New England make a perfume from flowers in their pine forest. It's called Attar of Peace. It ¯ summons up the grounds and even the com-munity. The scent has made the place its own; spirituality can be embodied in a fra-grance, s3 Wittherg notes that today we see the opposite in practice: "The members of most congregations now have widely diverse interpretations of their community's charism, as well as varying degrees of commitment to it."s4 Let us take a closer look. Review for Religious Religious Institutes from Past to Present The Tridendne reforms of the 16th century held fast until the early 1960s. With the advent of the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965), the manner in which women lived religious life changed significantly. Today traditional religious institutes in the West either are in chaos or are dying." In the United States there are more than one hundred sixty secular institutes, a nontradi-tional form of consecrated life. Most religious vocations now come from India and East Asia. In Creating a Future for Religious Life, Wittberg remarks that the decline in vocations in the West is not "an ongoing religious crisis," but part of the life-death rhythm of creation, from which religious institutes are not exempt: "A recurring pattern of foundation, expansion, stabilization, and breakdown has developed time and again throughout history of Western Christianity, in intervals of two hundred fifty to three hundred fifty years." In the late 1960s Ladislas ~)rsy SJ anticipated Wittberg's observation: [Consecrated religious life] rejoiced in peri-ods of splendor, and it suffered the bitter expe-rience of decline--yet it never died. After each crisis it recovered and manifested signs of internal strength. It showed also a remarkable capacity to adapt to the needs of every age; it was continually enriched with new, external forms,s6 If birth-and-death is a natural pattern, why not allow communities to die a peaceful death? Because not all institutions die because of external reasons. Several met their demise because of internal causes: deconstruction of their charism, laxity and moral decadence, fashion-able spiritualities and divisiveness,s7 The aggiornamento called for by Pe. rfectae caritatis began in a grim context. By the early 1960s religious women were too removed from the modern world. After 62.1 200t Roccasalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future their daily apostolic work, sisters would return to a vir-tual enclosure where physical presence, equated with community life, took precedence over the apostolate. Detailed rules regarding the minutiae of daily life cramped their spirits. Superiors wielded power that often impeded psychological maturity and the development of talents. Even minimal contact with the outside world Was closely monitored and discouraged. This rigidity contradicted the ministry for which these institutes were founded,s8 Most communities anticipated reform and responded at once. Others moved at a slower pace or on a superfi-cial level. Some institutes were successful at rediscover-ing or revitalizing their shared vision. Today, for example, the Benedictine nuns of Today Ignatian institutes pursue their charism with varying degrees of intentionality. Regina Laudis Monastery in Bethlehem, Connecticut, report a waiting list of candidates. Other institutes minimized, ignored, or altogether uprooted their charism. There may be a good reason for this. The charisms of women's congregations sometimes seem rather eclectic, unless the group is a female counterpart of a men's group such as the Benedictines. It is difficult for a group with a hybrid charism to discern its principal charism. Some groups seem not even to have one. When we speak of the schools of spirituality, many women's religious institutes do not fall into neat categories as the men's orders do. Some groups, however, with clear identities like the Ignatian, have removed elements that uniquely identified them as a particular institute and have added other elements. Today Ignatian institutes pursue their charism with vary-ing degrees of intentionality. Review for Religious Marketing experts tell us that "tampering with an identity--a brand, a restaurant, a cola, or any other con-sumer product--can be a perilous business.''59 Religious groups with a renewed sense of identity and mission appear to be in a strong position to survive. Those that have "tampered with" or discarded their identity are in peril. The Current Situation Since the 1960s, issues such as governance, ecclesi-astical poverty, obedience, and common life have under-gone change. Let us briefly examine the present-day resonances of this statement. Governance. Out of Vatican II emerged a collegial spirit. There it applied to bishops acting in union with the bishop of Rome, but this spirit has permeated the church. In nonepiscopal groups, it is more accurately referred to as coresponsibility or shared decision making. Centralized, hierarchical groups must find a way to incor-porate the collegial spirit. In decentralized communities, superiors have been vested with less authority, and they govern less if at all. For women, the past remains an open wound, but "everyone her own pope" leads to chaos. We have not yet realized a communion ecclesiology. Economics and Poverty. Every religious institute must support itself. The plunge in finances is a cause for con-cern even though religious are tax-exempt. Diocesan structures require sisters working in them to contribute their services. The local ordinary determines what small fixed stipend will be given to those working within his diocese. The stipend, falling below the poverty line, varies from diocese to diocese.6° Major superiors have tried unsuccessfully to remedy this long-standing abuse. With larger memberships, communities could manage their budgets on contributed services. This is no longer the case. 62.1 200~ Roccasalvo * Ignatian Women Past and Future Economics and Obedience.' Flexibility to choose one's ministry has brought its own problem. Today, in a com-petitive market, unemployment among religious is a stark. reality. If a position opens up, especially one paying a full salary, it is likely to be in a nondiocesan institution far from the local community. Though superiors gladly send a sister "in obedience," they have little choice but to do so; these sisters support themselves and sisters who receive no diocesan stipend. Economics and Community Life~ The employment sit-uation mentioned above has affected the traditional understanding of community life as an essential part of religious living, and so community life is on the wane. With greater personal freedom to choose their aposto-lates, sisters work not only in' different places but also on different schedules~ Common life, yes; community under one roof, no.61 Has maintenance displaced mis-sion as a community focus? Does economics drive the maintenance? Decline has set in. Numbers are plummeting. Attitudes formed over the years have hardened. Loss of judgment has followed, and a tendency to create a make-believe world under the cover of optimism. No large corporation or small business would permit losses with-out a realistic analysis of facts. Instead of facing and dis-cussing them with intellectual and emotional honesty, most religious are in denial. They continue glorifying a way of life that is fast ebbing away. Johannes Metz notes that loyalty "not infrequently takes on the lineaments of necrophilia: of shutting one-self up in dead patterns of life and behavior, patterns perhaps that have been worn to death in the power of the Spirit.''62 Years ago small institutes were the first casu-alties, and a few merged vcith larger ones. Today larger institutes are in jeopardy. Given this trend, by 2020 a handful of religious will remain as an endangered species. Review for Religious Young people are avoiding institutes in decline. Instead they seek ecclesial groups with "fiery vision." 63 Many applaud religious women for continued ser-vice to others, and praise is richly deserved. Sisters have worked hard all their lives without seeking or receiving recognition. They have educated men and women in leadership positions and have promoted vocations to the priesthood and religious life. Their contributions to almost every walk of life are considerable. Critics, how-ever, paint a picture of confusion, blurred identity, indi-vidualism, secularity, and irrelevance. Renewal through the Spiritual Exercises Holiness of life brings its own "fiery vision"; its radi-ance attracts others to God. Today, in a wasteland of secularity, reform will not be realized from external pres-sure. Religious must vigorously pursue inner conver-sion. For four hundred and fifty years, the Spiritual Exercises have stood as an instrument of interior trans-formation. They changed the religious contours of chaotic 16th-century Europe. Today, even with com-peting syncretic aids, they continue renewing the church among lay ecclesial groups.64 Ignatian women can build up the world by living this "fiery vision" and, without dilution, handing it on to others longing for meaning in life. In this school of prayer, one intensely desires con-version of heart. This book for "exercising" brings the whole person into the cosmic Christ. It requires prayer-ful activity of the whole person: body, mind, spirit, imag-ination, memory, and the subconscious. This "retreat" of solitary prayer becomes active service of neighbor. The exercitant assumes the mind of Christ, "for Christ plays in ten thousand places, / Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his, / To the Father through the features of men's faces." 65 62.1 200~ The Exercises for a New Millennium In a post-9/1 1 world, we face a new world situation. In the past the Exercises, with their theocentric world-view that includes spiritual humanism, have attracted non-Christians as well as Christians.66 Jews and Muslims, for example, without compromising their beliefs, have benefited from them. The goal is not conversion but a more devout practice of one's faith, more attuned to global harmony.67 Discernment calls Ignatian women to regard others with love, seeking unity in all things. The Trinity and the incarnation, the two fundamen-tal dogmas of Christianity, permeate the Exercises. Our Trinitarian God, archetype of unity and diversity, "is one, good, true, and beautiful because [God] is essen-tially Love, and Love supposes the one, the other, and their unity.''6s In the incarnation God condescended to flesh to raise women and men to God. Created in God's image, all are called to the divine likeness. The Johannine Gospel impels us to live within the Trinity, who lives in all creation. Christ's humanity presses us to respect and reverence those whose beliefs differ from ours. The incarnation links us to one another in a global village. Interacting with other great religions, wherein the Spirit breathes, will advance the oneness for which Jesus prayed. Ignatian women, indeed all in the church, must be fully catholic to be fully Catholic. The Exercises for Ignatian Women Religious For Ignatian women religious at the start of this mil-lennium, more is asked of our consecrated life. Drawing its meaning from the Trinity, celibacy is to be valued and embraced as affectivity. The Trinity's inner love is the model of that love which God offers us throughout our lives. When the motive for pleasing others is love, affa-bility and good manners are assured. Circumstances call us to a lifestyle of frugality. As stewards of Mother Earth, Review for Religious we must train ourselves to think, feel, and act with greater vigilance over God's sacramental world. Envisioning a new attitude toward personal freedom, coresponsibility, and communion, ecclesiology places the Trinity at the heart of governance. These reflections do not guarantee that institutes will attract new members at once, but the future will bear fruit if we plant strong seeds now. Ignatian religious women are called to share this "fiery vision" with others--noblesse oblige. The Exercises encompass three other graces which Ignatius received at Manresa. God's cosmos is indeed "charged with the grandeur of God.''69 In the Eucharist, Christ offers himself to his Father, and he nourishes us, his Body. Our service must be actu-alized in our becoming what we have received. Neither mere activism nor pragmatic service, it is faith expressed as love.7° The Exercises embody tides quaerens intellectum, faith seek-ing underst~inding, valuing and developing our gifts. Commitment to faith and learning sharpens our sense of justice and our other sensibilities. For Ignatian women religious at the start of this millennium, more is asked of our consecrated life. The Magis from Ignatian Women Religious Reform will not necessarily guarantee the survival of our various institutes. Perfectae caritatis (§ 19) spoke of the possibility of establishing new communities, cau-tioning the need for discernment regarding their "use-fulness" and promising future. Challenging women religious to begin their own institutes, Wittberg says: Find a vision which consumes and vitalizes you, one which you are willing to die for--and to live the rest of your life for. Start the jour- 57 62.1 2003 Ro~casalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future ney. Don't wait until fifty, or twenty, or even ten people are ready to go with you . Start the journey alone, if need be, and then invite others to come along . Expect to fail ~everal times. Expect to lose your way. Learn from your mistakes and try again. That is what founders, and refounders, do. That is the cru-cifixion, the "Passover," to which they are called. The resurrection, we know by faith, will also occurfl1 A bold challenge, indeed. One leaves her institute to found another only at the prompting of the good Spirit. Still, it is well to recall that, without separation from the Benedictines, there would have been no Bernard of Clairvaux, the Cistercians, or Thomas Merton. Without separation from the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, there would be no Mother Teresa, 'no Missionary Sisters of Charity caring for the most destitute of the dying. Women are endowed with the gift of building a cul-ture of love founded on love. How muchmore religious 'women who follow the Ignatian way! Their "fiery vision," emerging from the Exercises, sees the impossi-ble as possible--as imaginative, practical, an'd prophetic. The Spirit will lead our discerning hearts to build the future "all ablaze with God springing up everywhere.''72 Notes ' Rogelio Garcfa-Mateo, "Ignatius of Loyola and Women," Theology Digest 45, no. 1 (Spring 1998): 32.'In this article I men-tion only a few of the women who helped Ignatius. 2 I thank Fathers Ladislas ~rsy sJ and Brian O'Leary SJ, Sisters Judith Roemer, Marion Honors CSJ, and Maria Pascuzzi CSJ, and my brother for their insights and encouragement to write this article. 3 The deaconess St. Macrina (d. 380) founded the Basilian order with her brother St. Basil. They wrote the Rule for nuns and monks. She founded an orphanage for girls, ~he first of its kind. St. Olympias (d. 408), deaconess and friend of St. John Chrysostom, distributed Review for Religious her vast fortune to the poor and rallied to his defense when he was illegally deposed. This led to her own exile. 4james Brodrick SJ, St. Ignatius Loyola: The Pilgrim Years, 1491- IY38 (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Cudahy, 1956), p. 86. 5 The Autobiography of Ignatius of Loyola, trans. Joseph E O'Callaghan, ed. John C. Olin (New York: Fordham University Press, [1974] 1992), pp. 36-40. 6 Thomas M. Lucas sJ, "The Saint, the Site, and the Sacred Strategy: Ignatius, Rome, and the Urban Mission," in Saint, Site, and Sacred Strategy (Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1990), p. 20. 7 Garcfa-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 29. 8 Hugo Rahner SJ, Saint Ignatius Loyola: Letters to Women, (Freiburg: Herder / London: Nelson, 1960), pp. 4-10. 9 H. Rahner, .Letters, .p. 265. '°Jos~ Ignacio Tellechea Idfgoras, Ignatius of Loyola: The Pilgrim Saint (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1994), pp. 180-181. 1, H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 10, 252. 12 Garcfa-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 29. 13 John W. O'Malley sJ, The First Jesuits (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), p. 34. 14 Garcia-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 29. 15 See n. 14. ,6 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 10, 296-297. ,7 Brian O'Leary SJ, "Foundational Values in the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius," Milltown Studies (Spring 1994): 7-9. 18 H. Rahner, Letters, p. 11. Mary of Egypt is considered an icon of repentance. ,9 Tellechea, Ignatius, p. 254. 20 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 174-176 and PLATE XII facing p. 321; 181-182, 185, 192. 2, Garcia-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 30. 22 Ludwig Pastor, The History of the Popes, Vol. 12 (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co., 1923), p. 42. 2~ O'Malley, First Jesuits, p. 180. 24 Pastor, Popes, Vol. 12, p. 43. 2~ H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 197, 209-211; consult all of Part 3, "Begging for the Kingdom of God," pp. 169-206. Also pp. 15,199, 211, 15. 62.1 2003 Roccasalvo * Ignatian Women Past and Future .60- 26 Garcfa-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 31. 27 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 287-290. 2s O'Malley, First Jesuits, p. 201. 29 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 340, 331-335, 126-128, 303,310. 30 H. Rahner, Letters, 318-319, 323. 3~ Garcia-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 32. For Ignatius's responses to these women's petitions to enter the Society, see H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 260, 308, 318, 323. 32 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 52-67, 56-59, 59, 60, 59. O'Malley, First Jesuits, p. 76. 33 H. Rahne~:, Letters, pp. 251,260. 34 Mary Milligan,. "What Is an 'Ignatian Congregation'?" Way Supplement 70 (Spring 1991): 41-50. 35 Included as well are the Religious of the Sacred Heart of Mary (RSHM), the Religious of the Cenacle (RC), the Religious of Jesus and Mary (RJM), the Society of the Holy Child Jesus (SHCJ). 36 M. Emmanuel Orchard, Till God I/Viii (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1985), p. 29, nn. 17 and 33, and pp. 49-50. Also M.P. Trauth, "Ward, Mary," New Catholic Encyclopedia. 37 Orchard, Till God Will, p. 102. William V. Bangert SJ, A History of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1972), p. 146. See . 38 M~daille Committee, "The Spirituality of Jean-Pierre M~daille" (New Orleans, 1967), pp. 2-3. 39 Tellechea, Ignatius, p. 413. ~o Constitution of the Sisters of St. Joseph (Brentwood, N.Y., 2000), p. 9. 41 Elizabeth Stopp, "Francois de Sales," in The Study of Spirituality, ed. Cheslyn Jones et al. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), p. 381. 42 See , p. 6. 43 See "Our Spi;'it," ._ 44J.E Broderick SJ, "Jesuits," New Catbolic Encydopedia. 45 "Starting Afresh.from Christ: A Renewed Commitment to Consecrated Life in the Third Millennium," Origins 32, no. 8 (4 July 2002), §12. 46 Patricia Wittberg SC, The Rise and Fall of Catholic Religious Orders: A Social Movement Perspective (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), p. 232. Review for Religious 47 In Lumen gentium a religious is "more intimately consecrated to divine service. This consecration gains in perfection since by virtue of firmer and steadier bonds, it serves as a better symbol of the unbreakable link between Christ and his spouse, the church" (§44). Perfectae caritatis states that religious follow Christ "more freely and imitate him more nearly. Hence, the more ardently they unite themselves to Christ through a self-surrender.involving their entire lives, the more vigorous becomes the .life of the church and the more abundantly her apostolate bears fruit" (§1). Emphasis added. 48 Sandra M. Schneiders IHM, Finding the Treasure (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), p. 128. 49 Ladislas M. 0rsy sJ, Open to the Spirit (Washington-Cleveland: Corpus Books, 1968), pp. 17, 21, 25. 5o Our Jesuit Life (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1990), p. 94. s, Joseph de Guibert sJ, The Jesuits: Their Spiritual Doctrine and Practice (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1986), p. 2. 52 John C. Futrell SJ, "Discovering the Founder's Charism," Way Supplement (Autumn 1971): 63. s3 Joseph Roccasalvo, The Odor of Sanctity (USA: Xlibris, 2000), pp. 106-107. s4 Patricia Wittberg SC, Creating a Future for Religious Life (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1991), p. 138 and n. 4: "In some congre-gations, this pluralism has become so great that it is difficult to see what remains in common in any vital sense. Members have some vague sense of belonging to a group. This sense of belonging is usu-ally sustained by a vague ethos or spirit, by memories of a shared his-tory, by a sense of responsibility for the elderly members, and by personal relationships with those who are coworkers, coinhabitants, or like-minded allies. But belonging is not the same as commitment." Mary Jo Leddy, "Beyond the Liberal Model," Way Supplement 65 (Summer 1989): 46. 55 "Starting Afresh from Christ," pp. 130-147. ~6 ~rsy, Open to the Spirit, p. 13. ~7 Wittberg, Rise andFall, pp. 186-188, 41, Table 2.1, and 184ff, Table 10.1. 5s Male religious orders would not have tolerated these structures. s9 Eric Asimov, "When Makeovers Go Awry," New York Times (31 July 2002). The famous Russian Tea Room in New York City recently closed because its new owner "tampered" with its tradi-tional identity. One can only imagine the outrage of sports fans if the 61 62.1 2003 Roccasalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future New York Yankees were to tamper with their logo designed by Tiffany. 60 Before 1940, religious brothers working in the same diocese received more than twice as much as the sisters. Wittberg, Rise and Fall, p. 52. 61 Common life may refer to all members living under one roof or contributing to a common fund for the common good. It means that common rituals are observed as well, more easily observed in monastic than in apostolic communities. 62 Johannes Metz, Followers of Christ: The Religious Life and the Church (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 20. 63 A phrase used by Evelyn Woodward in P~ets, Prophets, and Pragmatists (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1987), p. 51. 64 This dry manual has been published some 4,500 times over the course of four hundred years. 65 "As kingfishers catch fire" by Gerard Manley Hopkins. 66 O'Leary, "Foundational Values," pp. 5-13. 67 Ronald Modras, "The Spiritual Humanism of the Jesuits," America (4 February 1995): 10. 6s Hans Urs yon Balthasar, "A Rdsum~ of My Thought," in Hans Urs yon Balthasar: His Life and Work, ed. David L. Schindler (San Francisco: Communio Books and Ignatius Press, 1991), p. 4. 69 "God's Grandeur" by Gerard Manley Hopkins. 70 O'Leary, "Foundational Values," p. 19. 7, Patricia Wittberg SC, Pathways to Re-Creating Religious Communities (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1996), pp. 199-201. 72 Pierre Teilhard de Cha~din SJ, Letters to L~ontine Zanta (New York: Harper and Row, 1968), p. 41. Review for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man All Christians know Jesus as the Son of God, and rightly so. But he never referred to himself by that rifle, except once (according to the synoptic Gospels), when the high priest asked him before the Sanhedrin, "Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed One?" and he replied, "I am" (Mk 14:61-62). But often (eighty-one times in the Gospels) he spoke of himself as .the Son of man.1 In fact, even on the above occasion of affirming his Sonship of God, he went on to clarify.at once, "And you will see the Son of man seated at the right hand of the Power." Reclaiming Jesus as the Son of Man In expressing their faith in Jesus, the early Christians called him Lord (also my Lord, our Lord, and Lord of the universe), Emmanuel, Savior, and the like, all expressions suggestive of his divinity. But never once did they name him A. Paul Dominic SJ last wrote for us in our issue of November-December 2001. His address is c/o Missionaries of the Poor; Fatima Nagar; Warangal 506 004; India. Dominic ¯ Learningfrom ~esus, the Son of Man the Son of man, with the notable exception found on the lips of Stephen (Ac 7:56). If, thus, no primitive creedal statements contain any reference to him as the Son of man, that need not deter us from Jesus' preferred way of speaking about himself. It is intriguing, too, that, on a rare occasion when he was drawing someone to believe in him, he asked him, according to the witness of John, "Do you believe in the Son of man?" On 9:35).2 So why not look at Jesus as the Son of man and learn from him what ways mark him out as the Son of man? So far, so good. But what is or can be understood by the Aramaic terminology the Son of man? It is surely one of the most discussed questions, with almost as ma. ny opinions as there are scholars. At the same time, it is one of the most important questions, as Milan Machovec says, "in considering the person and influence of the Master from Galilee.''3 Whatever the Marxist author's reason for saying so, there is truth in what he says, if only because the favorite self-designation of Jesus was the Son of man. The Meanings of"the Son of Man" As we seek to understand what Jesus meant by "the Son of man," we should remind ourselves that as a rule he did not indulge in cliches and fads nor as a rule confuse and confound people, but communicated himself to them in transparent, if teasing and provocative, ways. Further, from the many studies made on the subject, we may throw some light on the matter. Primarily, the expression Son of man was not a title, but a modest reserved way of referring to oneself in Galilee's Aramaic idiom. So, when Jesus used the choice phrase, .he was not drawing attention to himself, much less thrusting or projecting himself proudly, but presenting himself humbly.4 A much older use of the phrase, carried over from the Old to the New Testament, was simply as a synonym of Review for Religious "man" or "human being," without any special emphasis (Ps 80:17). Depending on the context, however, there could be an emphasis laid on human nature as nobler than subhuman, on the one hand (compare Dn 7:3-7 and 17-26 with 7:13), or of course as infinitely lower than the divine, on the other (Ez 2:1). Another element of emphasis could be that the speaker conceived of himself (I guess the expression was used only by men) not apart from but part of humanity. Far from being a stranger to humanity, he was part and parcel of it, owning himself a member of all humanity. Its usage was obviously comparable to that of the other expression "sons of the world" (Lk 16:8),5 which meant, of course, belonging to the world. Similarly, therefore, "the son of man." meant one who belonged to the world of humans. Jesus' Characterization as the Son of Man All this made sense in relation to the person of Jesus, as already mentioned. So, when he characterized himself as the Son of man, he was not passing himself off as something higher than others. Whatever else he was, he was still a man, pure and simple, and so like any other human being, as the early Christians believed (Ph 2:7). Besides all this, Jesus could have had something more in mindl He was not just resigned to, or even simply content with, his human status. He was appreciative of, and even intent on, something greater in the experience of being human. Keeping in mind the Gospels' emphasis on Jesus' use of the term "Son of man" and on the dignity of the individual human ("man as man") and of all humanity, Albert Nolan submits "that Jesus' frequent and emphatic use of the term 'Son of man' was his way of referring to, and identifying himself with, man as man.''6 Here is a nuanced insight that could be missed. Unlike others, Jesus used the term "Son of man" not by way of 62.1 2003 Dominic ¯ Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man Jesus used the term "Son of man" not by way of habit, but with a conscious intent. habit, but with a conscious intent. It was a way of expressing his vision of humanity, experienced in himself in solidarity with others. Whatever else he claimed to be, it was not apart from being a "son of man" among the likes of him. In other words, being a man, he could not but assodate himself with every social segment, making no discrimination whatever among human beings based on sex or status or religious sanction or what have you. What were the implications of this identification that Jesus made with others in the bosom of his religious tradition? Unlike the others, he not only inherited this religious outlook handed down by the ancients, but he consciously incorporated it and indeed incarnated it. He knew that being human, denoted by the term "son of man," embraced two opposite experiences. On the one hand, "son of man" implied and connoted that human life is short-lived like the grass (Is 51:12) or, like the worm, lowly and vulnerable (Jb 25:6). The " phrase "Son of man" showed that before God human stature cannot be anything but small (Ps 11:4). It showed that human creatures as such are mortal, terribly mortal (Ps 90:3, Ez 2:1), and thus no more significant than a dying breath or fleeting shadow (Ps 144:4). It emphasized that every human being is caught up in sin (Ps 14:2-3). On the other hand, besides and beyond all this, there was a transcendent sense to the religious term "son of man." It suggested and revealed that every "son of man" is an object of Providence (PS 107:8), something for divine wisdom to find delight in (Pr 8:31)," a crown of creation by divine plan, and even a partner with God (Ps 8:5-8). Before God, then, every Review for Religious human person is both nothing and, strangely enough, all blessing. It was with this manifold tensive human reality that Jesus identified himself. He was at home with this holistic vision of humanity; his lifetime was of a piece with it. Becoming Like the Son of Man Being the Son of man, and preeminently that, Jesus wanted others, too, to claim and share the same privilege that God envisioned for humanity. In this light some of his sayings lend themselves to a new interpretation. "Thus," Nolan remarks, "to say that 'the son of man is master even of the sabbath' is to say that 'the sabbath was made for man and not man for the sabbath' (Mk 2:27-28). To say that 'the son of man has power on earth to forgive sins' is to praise 'God for giving such power to men' (Mr 9:6, 8). To say that 'the foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests but the son of man has nowhere to lay his head' could mean that, whereas the Herods (foxes) and the Romans (birds) have a place in the present society, man as man has no place yet."7 Such an outlook offers the inspiration for all humans to attain the true glory destined for them by God, despite their own acute sense of infdriority and insignificance. It echoes in practical terms what the mystical psalmist joyously discerned: "When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in.place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You made him ruler over the works of your hands; you put everything under his feet" (Ps 8:3-8, N1V). Even though Jesus, believing this and acting on it, realized its truth in his life and invited others to do the same, people hesitate to conceive of themselves in this light. It is to such people that a sacred author quotes the67 62. I 2003 Dominic ¯ Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man above psalm and makes this assuring comment: "Now in subjecting all things to them God left nothing outside their control. As it is, we do not yet see everything in subjection to them; but we do see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor" (Heb 2:8-9). Let there be no mistake. The glorification of Jesus was not because of any angelic or royal nature he enjoyed, but because of his pure, radical human status in and through which, of course, his Abba God was at work. It was through becoming the lowly son of man, clothed in flesh, frailty, and fragility, that he became the glorious Son of man, thanks to his Abba God. Stephen was the first one in the biblical record to contemplate Jesus in this fashion. It was in this spirit, too, that the early Christians sang that, on the one hand, Jesus was "made in human likeness and [so] in his appearance found as a man" (Ph 2:7, CCB) and that, on the other hand, he was exalted in glory and given a name at which every knee must bend. rvVhat does. this all mean for us human beings, in whose image the Son appeared, though at the end he was seen in God's image? Are we not to follow, keeping our eyes on him who is the pioneer and perfecter, of our faith leading to glory (Heb 12:2)? And yet we hesitate to think of ourselves in these elevating terms, despite God's having predestined us all to be conformed to the image of his Son (Rm 8:29-30). The Way of Being Human Those of us who hesitate--and that is 99.9 percent of us--must face the truth, namely, that we hunger for honor and glory, but are not willing or concerned to be honored and glorified by the One from whom comes everything we have or could have. We have an all-tooo human tendency to seek the approval of others (Jn 5:44) or, what is worse, to smugly compare ourselves favorably Review for Religious with others. When we do not succeed in such maneuvers, we lament like the regretful psalmist: "Lord, let me know my end, and what is the measure of my days . You have made my days a few ha.ndbreadths, and my lifetime is .as nothing in your sight. Surely everyone stands as a breath. Surely everyone goes like a shadow .For I am your passing quest, an alien, like all my forebears. Turn your gaze away from me, that I may smile again, before I depart and am no more" (Ps 39:4-6 and 12-13). Or we resort to the opposite tactic, aggressiveness. We cover up our nothingness and by hook or crook seek to become a power to reckon with. When such efforts succeed, the social and political world is negatively affected, witness the stories of conquerors and empires. Such conquerors tend to show humanity at its worst. As pictured in the Book of Daniel, they are beasts that inflict violence on others and, inescapably, on themselves. They are the opposite of the "one like a son of man" who in the very presence of God receives divine fellowship, honor, and glory not only for himself but for everyone like himself (Dn 7:1-14). How true this is of Christ! Surely he is, as a pastoral commentary says, "the perfect human, and he bears the destiny of humanity," 8 and so in his glory will draw all to himself On 12:32). This will happen in growing measure as we become more like him, the Son of man, shedding increasingly our alien beasdy nature and becoming more It was through becoming the lowly son of man, clothed in flesh, frailty, and fragility, that he became the glorious Son of man, thanks to his Abba God. 62.1 2003 Dominic. ¯ Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man and more what we are and what we are meant to be, namely human. What Kahlil Gibran said of him rings true: "He came to send forth upon this earth a new spirit, with power to crumble the foundation of any monarchy built upon human bones and skulls . He came to demolish the majestic palaces, constructed upon the graves of the weak, and crush the idols, erected upon the bodies of the poor. He came to make the human heart a temple, and the soul an altar, and the mind a priest.''9 Peter could invite all Christians to Christ with these words: "Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God's sight, and, like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood" (1 P 2:4-5). Doing this increasingly in our world, we will become the embodiment of Daniel's vision of the son of man, in union with Christ, the Son of man. To grow to the measure of his full stature--that is the call for Christians as individuals and as a community (Ep 4:13). 70 Notes t See the note on Mk 8:31 in The NIVStudy Bible, p. 1510. Unless 6therwise indicated, all biblical citations are from NRSV. 2 It is worthy of note that, though some ancient versions have "Son of God," the modern translations, such as N~$V and N'JB, have preferred the adoption of "Son of man," following other ancient" authorities. 3 Milan Machovec, .4 Marxist Looks at ]esus (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1976), p. 120. 4 Many would seem to agree on this point. For this and related points, see the short survey of opinions in The New ]erome Biblical Commentary, ed. R. E. Brown et al. (Bangalore: Theological Publications in India, 1991), nn. 78:38-41, pp. 1324-1325. 5 If this is true, I wonder why it does not seem to receive mentibn among the scholars. 6 Albert Nolan, ~esus before Christianity (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1977), p. 119. Review for Religious 7 Nolan, Jesus before Christianity, p. 119. 8 See the explanation on Mk 8:27 in Christian Community Bible (Quezon City: Claretian Publications, 1990), p. 89. 9 Kahlil Gibran, Secrets of the Heart (New Delhi: UBSPD, 1943), p. 56. The Rendezvous On this red and rainwashed morning a cottonwool wispy cloud hangs over the hill as if to kiss the earth beside the waterfall and say: "I came to meet you here." On the driveway, as I walk, a cottontailed jackrabbit ventures close, so close that I can see the color of his eyes and catch his smile for me. He says: "I came to meet you here." At the gate, an oversized robinredbreast red as the freshened desert earth writes my name across the path in a twirl of song, as if to say: "I came to meet you here." In my heart I know that as I walk the morn the Risen One reiterates: "I came to meet you here." Mary T. O'Brien PBVM 7I 62.1 2003 DENNIS J. BILLY Perseverance: The Courage to Persist ~t~ T et us not grow weary of doing good; if we do not relax our efforts, in due time we shall reap our harvest" (Ga 6:9).1 These words of St. Paul show the importance of following Christ to the end, even in try-ing and difficult times. Perseverance, as we normally call it, is "to persist long in some undertaking until it is accomplished."2 All Christians are called to persevere in their vocations. For religious, this undertaking concerns Christian discipleship lived in a community dedicated to the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedi-ence. This should be their one, consuming lifetime pro-je

Issue 54.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1995. ; Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ¯ ~,Vashington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1995 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Adv#o~y Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read Joann Wolski Conn PhD Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living No\qt~MBER/DECEMBER 1995 ¯ VOLUME 54 ¯ NUMBER 6 contents 806 apostoJJC Witness Dorothy Kazel OSU: An Eternal Flame Cynthia Glavac OSU draws a portrait of Dorothy Kazel OSU with its spiritual implications for us today. 825 833 future church Opportunity. of the Jubilee Year 2000 Nesto~ Gregoire OMI alerts us to some actions that we might take in r~sponding to Pope Jo]m Paul's apostolic letter on the third millennium. The 1994 Synod: Uniqueness and Challenge Cassian Yuhfius CP gives a perspective on six differences present in the 1994 synod of bishops and three challenges for consecrated life. 851 868 leadership From Usefui Instruments to Willing Agents: Transforming.Leadership for the New Millennium Joseph A. Tetlow SJ reflects on the transformation of leadership through the perspective of five dimensions Religious Life Governance: Personal and Organizational Experiences of Power Beatrice M. Eichten OSF reshapes and reclaims power as a religious reality in view of authority and obedience. 802 Review for Religious 881 904 reJigious life Attachment, Belonging, and Membership: Commitment Style in Male Religious Communities James Halstead OSA draws a picture of the different lived mean-ings of membership in a r~ligious congregation. A Time of Blessing for Brothers Joel Giallanza CSC interprets the present moment in the church as an opportunity to act on the need for the word and witness of male, lay religious life. 913 918 mission The Missionary Heart Regina Siegfried ASC reflects on Precious Blood spirituality as a wellspring of a missionary heart. The Logic and Irony of Success in Mission A. Paul Dominic SJ ponders the Christian meaning of success when it involves missionary efforts. departments 804 Prisms 934 Canonical Counsel: The Potestas of Religious Superiors: Background for Canon 596 941 Book Reviews 950 Indexes to Volume 54 November-December 199Y 803 prisms One of the striking aspects of the pope's recent encyclicals, apostolic exhortations, and papal audience presentations has been their focus on a reconciling or unifying theme. Orientale lumen clearly is a call for even greater efforts in seeking a reconciliation between the Orthodox churches and the Latin-rite Roman church and the Eastern rites in communion with Rome. Ut unum sint looks to a time of unity for all Christian churches, founded on the reconciling role of the bishop of Rome. Justice for past wrongs is not a precondition, only forgiveness. Where liberation theology, in particular, helped the Christian community to see more clearly the necessary relationship of our baptismal faith and justice, the move-ment for human rights in all of its ramifications now appears to be entering a new depth. In the Christian dis-pensation, reconciliation is the heart of divine justice. God's just judgment in the face of human evil and sin takes shape in the reconciling life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Only through Christian revelation do we find that justice finds its center in reconciliation. That is why St. Paul could exuberantly proclaim that we as ministers of Christ truly are ambassadors of reconciliation. Since the 1971 synod's document on "Justice in the World," there has been a certain amount of turmoil in the church, especially in Latin America, over the shape and direction of justice efforts. Religious life communities wholeheartedly took up the challenge of faith and its rela-tion to justice in their chapters of renewal and in their 804 Review for Religious production of mission documents. Mixed signals of encourage-ment and disapproval came forth from Roman dicasteries, from national episcopal conferences, and sometimes even from a divi-sive foment within a religious congregation itself. For those church congregations and religious life groups which had grown all too comfortable with a Western world middle- and upper-class lifestyle, living a faith that does iustice (and does not escape into a charity-alone approach) is to heed the call to conversion found at the start of each of the gospels. Necessary as this call is for every age, it took on a crucial importance in the post-World War II development of nations, particularly between northern and southern hemispheres. But as our past quarter-century experi-ence has brought home, the human sense of iustice runs inde-pendently of Christian faith, and for lay Catholics as well as for women and men religious iustice efforts can break off from faith roots. Then the result appears as a burnout activism, deeper divi-siveness, and greater iniustice. The call coming to us as we prepare to enter into the new millennium is not a reversal of our Christian efforts to work for a world in which there are more iust relationships among all peo-ples. The call is for us to keep our attention fixed on the heart of all iustice efforts which Christians exercise. An emphasis on righ-teousness only has led in our experience to conflict and further iniustice. Just relations in human living are doomed to frustra-tion and failure without a centering in forgiveness and reconcil-iation. If we ultimately are not about a ministry of reconciliation in our iustice efforts, we are not about a Christian ministry. Perhaps that is why each year we need to hear anew voices from heaven singing out "peace and good will" as we welcome God's own Ambassador of reconciliation. The Review for Religious staff prays that the gift of Christ's peace be given in abundance to all our readers in this Christmas season. David L. Fleming SJ November-December 1995 805 CYNTHIA GLAVAC Dorothy Kazel OSU: An Eternal Flame Note: December 2, 1995 ~narks the l Yth anniversary of the murder of four North American churchwomen, Dorothy Kazel OSU, Jean Donovan, Maura Clarke MM, and Ira Ford MM in E1 Salvador. When people discover that I am a member of the Cleveland Ursulines, the congregation to which Dorothy Kazel also belonged, they usually ask me if I knew Dorothy. Before Dorothy died on 2 December 1980, my association with her had been minimal, even though we had lived six houses apart on the same street in Euclid, Ohio for a few years. However, when Dorothy moved to our street in 1955 as a sixteen-year-old teenager, I was only a year old. And although she might have remem-bered me as "one of the babies on the street," I certainly would not have "remembered her! Five years later she joined my congregation. My first re.collection of actually meeting Dorothy dates back to late spring 1973. At this time, she was min-istering as a guidance counselor at Beaumont School, one of my congregation's high schools, and I was a postulant who had been sent there to experience what we then called Cynthia Glavac OSU presented the substance of this article in a talk at the Second North American Convocation held at Owensboro, Kentucky in July 1995. She is an assistant professor of English at Ursuline College in Cleveland, Ohio. Her address is 137 Ruth Ellen Drive, Bldg. K, Apt. 316; Richmond Heights, Ohio 44143. 806 Review for Religious mission life, as well as to help out in the school until the end of the semester. So, for about five weeks, Dorothy and I lived and worked together as any members of the same local community would. A year later, in July 1974, Dorothy left to begin her missionary min-istry in E1 Salvador. Between that time and December 1980, I saw Dorothy only briefly on several occasions, and the reason why I even saw her was because in 1977 I had been assigned to teach at Beaumont, Dorothy's home base when she came to Cleveland for her yearly vacation. It was not until ten years after Dorothy's d~ath, however, that I really began to get to know her and develop what I now consider a fairly close relationship with her. In late 1989, as I was nearing completion of the coursework and preliminary exams for my doctorate in lit-erature, a iCriend in my congregation, Eileen Collins, suggested I investigate the possibility of writing Dorothy's biography for my disser-tation. The topic of women's biography--that is, biographies of women by women--certainly related to one of my areas of concentration, women's literature, but the members of my dissertation committee told me that I had to write Dorothy's biography within a theoretical framework. Consequently, I chose to research contemporary women's bio-graphical theory and then ",~rite a biography of Dorothy based on these theoretical findings. Two years later, in May 1992, I completed my dissertation, "A Biography of Dorothy Kazel OSU, from the Perspective of Contemporary Women's Biographical Theory." Because I plan to expan.d my dissertation into a full-length biography of Dorothy and l~ublish it, hopefully within the next two years, I have con-tinued my research of Dorothy's life these past three years. The deeper I delve into Dorothy's life and reflect upon it, the more I realize her connectedness to us as religious. Surely she plays an important role in the history of the church, but more significantly, she is a religious for usj'br thefiaure. In this context, I liken her to a flame,~ steadily glowing and unquenchable in its brilliance: What we can learn from the way Dorothy lived her life can light our way, like a beacon, into the twenty-first cen-tury; her words can fire our imaginations to the possibilities of What we can learn from the way Dorothy lived her life can light our way, like a beacon, into the twenty-first century. November-December 1995 807 Glavac ¯ An Eternal Flame religious life and of our lives as religious, even beyond the next century--or the next millennium. This article focuses on three aspects of Dorothy's life from which we can draw inspiration and thus fuel the fire of our vision and commitment to the future as religious: 1) her missionary min-istry; 2) her spirituality; and 3) her personal struggles. Within the context of these three aspects or themes, I also weave the par-ticulars of Dorothy's life as a Cleveland Ursuline, which encom-pass the years 1960-1980. Please understand, though, that these qualities alone in no way render a complete portrait of Doroth~c's character. There's much I have left out! Missionary Ministry On 4 February 1980, for Bartholomew McCaffrey, General Superior of my congregation at the time: Dorothy c6mpleted a congregational questionnaire on personal ministry choice. The statements and questions included on the form asked for infor-mation regarding the past ministry experiences of an individual sis-ter, as well as her preferences for future ministry assignments. In response to the statement, "Check the areas in which you have worked," Dorothy indicated, "disadvantaged, sacramental prepa-ration, individual program, parish school of religion, special edu-cation, deaf, and so forth, adult education, and renewal programs." Following this statement on the form is the question, "In which of the areas mentioned would you like to work or continue to work?" Dorothy's answer is "disadvantaged." A major realization I had about Dorothy after I finished writ-ing her biography and could then clearly see in great detail both the beginning and the final years of her life was that she was able to leave behind the sheltered environment in which she grew up and ultimately extend herself to a distant third-world country. To clarify, Dorothy was born and grew up in a predominantly Lithuanian neighborhood on Cleveland's east side. She socialized primarily with family members and neighbors and attended St. George parish elementary school and then Notre Dame Academy with the same classmates. However, at some point, even before she considered religious life, Dorothy ~hought about working with people whose cultures and life experiences were different from her own. She explained this desire herself in the letter she wrote in which she volunteered to go to E1 Salvador as a missionary. 808 Review for Religious This letter is dated 4 November 1967, and is addressed to Annunciata Witz,.my congregation's General Superior at the time: I have always been of the nature of a person eager to be on the move--to go to new places, to meet new people, to learn to understand these people, and to help them. Before I entered, I traveled to the West Coast four times; it was then that I was first impressed with the Spanish and Indian people. I wanted to stay, get to know them, and help them. I had even "day dreamdd" that ~ny parents would disown me and leave me there. Dorothy never gave up her desire to be a missionary. I real-ized this fact when I closely examined the nine years preceding her ministry in E1 Salvador when she served as a teacher at two of my congregation's high schools, Sacred Heart Academy and Beaumont School. During this time, Dorothy transformed her missionary vocation and transferred it not only to students but also to people outside the two schools. But all of these people were marginalized for some reason. From 1965-1972, Dorothy ministered at Sacred Heart Academy, which was located in the economically poorest area of the three high schools my congregation sponsored at that time. During Dorothy's years at Sacred Heart, she consistently taught business and secretarial courses, but as early as her second year at the school, she began to travel beyond the boundaries of her high school ministry to persons marginalized by physical handicaps, poverty, or race. For example, from 1966-1969, Dorothy taught Catholic doctrine to the deaf on Saturday mornings at a nearby parish and served at the Martin de Porres Center, located in one of the poorest sections of Cleveland; during the summer of 1969, she taught Catholic doctrine to Native Americans of the Papago Tribe in Topawa, Arizona. In 1970, Dorothy began work on a master's degree in guidance and counseling so that she could help yet another sector of the marginalized. Because of financial difficulties, Sacred Heart Academy closed in June 1972. Dorothy was then assigned to teach and do coun-seling at Beaumont School where she remained for the next two years. Although most of the girls Dorothy counseled at Beaumont were from upper and upper-middle class economic levels, and therefore not materially poor, they had their own set of unique problems that included drug and alcohol abuse and difficult fam-ily situations. Because of Dorothy's compassion, understanding, November-December 199~ 809 Glavac ¯ An Eternal Flame and natural ability to relate to young people, many of these girls turned to her for direction at all hours of the day and night. When she was not counseling Beaumont students, Dorothy volunteered her services at the Workhouse, a women's correctional facility, and at Sunny Acres, a hospital for chronically ill patients. Although Dorothy was a fine classroom teacher at both Sacred Heart Academy and Beaumont School, I believe that working with the disadvantaged and the marginalized was a natural thing for her to do. By the time she got to E1 Salvador, then, in July 1974 with Martha Owen OSU,2 Dorothy fit in very well with both the seasoned missionaries and the na.tive people. And she quickly understood how to minister to the Salvadoran people, as is evi-denced by the following excerpt from a letter she wrote to the sisters of Beaumont Convent: We know perhaps better than any Ursuline how important these contributions are3 to the lives of our 51,000 parish-ioners whom we are trying to help realize their full dignity as persons, new persons capable of reaching full develop-ment through their ability to read and write. This will make accessible to them the ways of learning and the rich pos-session of truth, both human and divine, that we enjoy. W'e hope to help them become people who can "rule the earth," that is to say, people who are able to tame the land and put it at the service of humanity (hereafter cited as L2). Dorothy loved and was dedicated to the people of El Salvador, as another section of the same letter reveals: So we continue, living through earthquakes, eating beans and tortillas in the cantones, taking attempted suicide vic-tims to the hospital, walking in dust or water up to our ankles (depends on the season), removing knifed victims from the main streets, building houses, demolishing and rebuilding churches, enduring the heat and mosquitoes, fighting malaria and dysentery and just generally having a great time in the name of the Ursulines and the Christ who is Lord! (L2). That Dorothy loved her ministry in E1 Salvador is further apparent by her desire to remain there, during the late 1970s and 1980, in the midst of increasing government oppression and vio-lence. In order to fully comprehend the nature of Dorothy's mis-sionary ministry, particularly during her last year in E1 Salvador, and ultimately, why she was murdered by the Salvadoran mili-tary, one must be generally familiar with the historico-political background of the country during the 1970s. What follows is a 810 Review for Religious brief sketch of this background. But because E1 Salvador's polit-ical situation, both past and present, is very complex, my expla-nation is in no way complete or definitive. Although E1 Salvador has had a long history of domination by a ruling oligarchy, a military government had been in power since 1932. In the early 1970s, resistance to this government began to appear. Left-wing opposition groups con-sisting of militant peasants, students, teach-ers, and workers, supported by the Salvadoran Catholic Church, emerged to campaign for basic social and economic reforms.4 The members of these groups were viewed by the government as anar-chists, terrorists, fanatics, and communists. Among the latter group, the communists, the government included priests, sisters, and lay catechists. At this time, organized left-wing ter-rorism also appeared as guerrilla groups formed throughout the country. The Salvadoran government responded to this and other types of rebellion with increased acts of violence and repression. This government sponsored violence grew to epi-demic proportions in 1977 (Carrigan, p. 10). The first attack against the Catholic Church was delivered in March of that year with the murder of Rutilio Grande, a Salvadoran Jesuit. Organized, systematic persecution of union members, profes-sionals, and teachers, as well as of laborers and campesinos,s began in the spring with the appearance of the first professional death squads. Composed of former and present members of the security forces, these roving squads kidnapped and brutally murdered any-one, including children, who they suspected had supported or expressed sympathy for any of the left-wing opposition groups. As a fright tactic, the death squads published death lists and disfig-ured and dismembered the bodies of their victims. To these muti-lated bodies, death squad members attached notes which claimed, "If you bury this body, ydu, too,will be tortured and killed." Despite reports of these atrocities and other government-spon-sored barbarisms, the United States government approved a 90 million-dollar loan to the Salvadoran government in November 1977 (Carrigan, pp. 89-90). As a fright tactic, the death squads published death lists and disfigured and dismembered the bodies of their victims. November-December 1995 811 Glavac ¯ An Eternal Flame By late 1979, increasing conflicts between the Salvadoran army and guerrilla groups developed into a full-blown civil war. To root out members of the popular leftist organizations and guerrilla groups from their rural bases, the army conducted "anti-subversive campaigns," which evolved into systematic programs of terror, aimed at depopulating regional villages and burning crops in order to create starvation conditions. At times, entire villages were bombed by the Salvadoran Air Force (Carrigan, p. 169). Such oppressive tactics, and the regular skirmishes which occurred between the army and the guerrilla groups, produced large numbers of refugees fleeing from their villages, often with little more than they could carry. A particular area or town was frequently the scene of confrontations between the fighting fac-tions. One such town was Chalatenango. Because the guerrillas had established bases in the mountainous terrain and the sur-rounding mountains of this northern town, it was victimized by the counterinsurgency tactics of the security forces. During all of this political upheaval and violence, Dorothy and the other members of the Cleveland Latin American Mission Team continued their pastoral ministry to the suffering salvado-ran people as unobtrusively as possible by planning and organiz-ing celebrations of the Eucharist and other liturgies, preparing adults and children for the reception of the sacraments, and man-aging food distribution programs. However, by 1980, the team's ministry expanded to include recovering and burying the mutilated remains of death-squad victims and transporting food, supplies, and sometimes refugees, to refugee centers around San Salvador. By this time, Jean Donovan had been a member of the Cleveland team for a year. She and Dorothy lived and ministered in the southern coastal town of La Libertad, where the Cleveland diocesan mission team had a parish, but they spent a portion of their time transporting refugees and supplies in their white Toyota van throughout the Chalatenango area for Maryknoll Sisters Maura Clarke and Ita Ford who were ministering there but had no means of transportation. On the morning of 2 December 1980, Dorothy and Jean pur-chased and transported supplies for refugees, which, unknown to them, would be the last time they would ever perform such a min-istry. That evening they drove to the Cuscatlan International Airport, located about a half hour from La Libertad, to pick up Maura and Ira who had returned together from a regional meet- 812 Review for Religious ing of Maryknoll sisters in Nicaragua. Because it was too late and too dangerous to make the four-hour trip to Chalatenango from the airport, Dorothy and Jean had decided that Maura and Ira would spend the night with them in La Libertad. Shortly after they met Maura and Ira, however, all four women were abducted by five members of the Salvadoran National Guard. The women were later raped, and finally shot execu-tion- style by the same guardsmen in a deserted field, one hour from the airport. From Dorothy's missionary min-istry- all the different forms it took---I think we can learn several valuable lessons that are especially relevant for us now and in the future. First of all, Dorothy went where there was a need, even when she did not want to go. For example, she did not want to teach on the secondary level. Before Dorothy joined the Ursulines she had earned an elementary teaching certificate and had taught third grade for one year. So, when she was assigned to teach high school, she was confused and disap-po. inted. Nevertheless, Dorothy taught high school for nine years and taught typing and business courses, something she also did not want to do. And when the time came for her to go to E1 Salvador, Dorothy had serious doubts about whether or not she really wanted to go, because at the time, she was involved in her counseling at Beaumont School and had grown to love the girls there. Another aspect of Dorothy's ministry that is particularly valid for us is her desire to find marginalized persons wherever she ministered and to take care of their special needs. Surely we can do the same in a society fraught with so many victims of poverty, abuse, and discrimination. Finally, in her ministry--actually, in whatever she did-- Dorothy took risks. Breaking her yearlong engagement to join the Cleveland Ursulines, venturing beyond the familiar walls of her high-school classroom to minister to Native Americans in Arizona, trying a recipe for chocolate chip cookies in E1 Salvador's Another aspect of Dorothy's ministry that is particularly valid for us is her desire to find marginalized persons wherever she ministered and to take care of their special needs. November-December 1995 813 Glavac ¯ An Eternal Flame 100÷ degree weather, or experimenting with new prayer styles-- Dorothy did them all, including, of course, the ultimate risk of remaining in E1 Salvador. One of Dorothy's final acts of ministry there--feeding and transporting refugees with Jean Donovan in the wartorn, guerrilla-infested area of Chalatenango--was a par-ticularly serious risk because she fully understood that the Salvadoran military considered any alliance with the poor a "sub-versive" act against the government. She and Jean also realized that they could be accused of consorting with guerrillas. Even their association with Maura and Ita entailed some risk, as both of the Maryknoll Sisters had received death threats and were being closely watched by a Salvadoran army colonel stationed in Chalatenango. The many risks Dorothy took throughout her life give me much pause to consider my own amount of risk-taking and to evaluate it. In our world today, and certainly in the future, I think that we have many opportunities to take risks. Spirituality For me, the most inspiring part of Dorothy's life is her spir-ituality. Before I began doing detailed research for Dorothy's biography, I assumed that she must have had a developed spiritual life simply because of her desire to remain in E1 Salvador. Living daily in the midst of a civil war and witnessing the brutal killing of many innocent people would require gospel-centered motiva-tions, a strong faith, and a consistent prayer life, I reasoned. But when I began reading Dorothy's journals, I discovered the foun-dation of that deep spirituality she had attained by the time she arrived in E1 Salvador. After meditating myself now for some years on Dorothy's spiritual life while she ministered as an Ursuline in Cleveland (diaries from her time in E1 Salvador sur-vive but no prayer journals),61 can describe various qualities of her spirituality at that time focusing on three that have particular appeal to us as religious now and for the future. The first quality is prayer. From the time Dorothy was a child and throughout her young adulthood, prayer was an important part of her spirituality. She attended daily Mass and said her rosary and other prayers daily. VVhen she became an Ursuline, however, prayer formed the backbone of her spiritual life. What she wanted to gain from prayer--and these ideas can be gleaned from read-ing her journals and her spiritual-reading notes--was develop- 814 Review for Religious ment of her relationship with God, imitation of Jesus, and response to God's will for her. Dorothy's personal written reflections reveal her fidelity to prayer as well as her belief in its importance in her life. The ear-liest account of Dorothy's opinion regarding devotion to prayer appears in retreat resolutions she made prior to her first profes-sion on 13 August 1963: How must I act as an Ursuline? ¯ As one who knows and loves God, for this is my specialty and can be a'chieved through prayer. ¯ All I do must show this, for this is my life! Resolve ¯ I desire to acquire a "spirit of prayer" . . . which will help me prove myself as an Ursuline--a true lover of God. Shortly after Dorothy moved to Sacred Heart Academy in August 1965, she kept a written record of her prayer life for sev-eral days before she began to teach. In most of the entries, she lists each of her prayer praF.tices and briefly evaluates her participation in them. Below is an example, dated 27 August: 1. Mo~'ning Office: distracted, drowsy 2. Mass: half awake 3. Examen: not pinpointed 4. Office: carelessly said 5. Stations: too fast 6. Recollection through day: poor--very distracted! In later journal entries, Dorothy makes resolutions regard-ing prayer. The following are from June 1973: "to make an avid study of' ChriSt through reading scripture daily SO that I may learn of His attitudes and make them my own; to do my half-hour meditation daily without failure" (hereafter cited as J6). The few diaries Dorothy kept while she was in E1 Salvador contain little comme~nt about her prayer life. However, Martha Owen, who ministered with Dorothy in E1 Salvador for five years, recalls, "Especially in th~ later years, Dorothy. took her Bible, and she meditated, every single day. She always wanted to know God's will, and she always prayed about it. She never made deci-sions for herself without getting some input from prayer." ~ Another quality of Dorothy's spirituality I noticed is that it constantly grew and evolved because, of her openness to new prayer styles and cbncep!s. Again,' when I examined Dorothy's November-December 199~ 815 Glavac ¯ An Eternal Flame writings, I initially saw a preVatican II spirituality. In notes she recorded from retreats she made from 1961 through 1966, Dorothy wrote: "vows and rules: means of perfection" (2 August 1961, hereafter cited at J 1); "exterior mortification: silence, mod-esty, self-denial; interior mortification: discipline of mind, will, imagination, and control over passions" (3 August 1961, J 1); and "offer now your death to God! (3 August 1963, hereafter cited as J2);Joy follows death to self!" (9 August 1963,J2). When she first arrived at Sacred Heart Academy in August 1965, Dorothy wrote: "Examen better than yesterday; if I can but become more con-scious of all I should be striving to perfect myself in." The subject and tone of Dorothy's writings change dramati-cally, however, in 1967 when they acquire a definite postVatican II flavor. That summer, during retreat, Dorothy wrote: A real Christian is: ¯ dominated by the presence of the Risen Christ (knows that the living Christ is here; knows that the living Christ is real) ¯ a person with a mission to the world of 1967: loves the world; is caught up with the world; must be equipped with solid learning and mature love; makes use of natural history and philosophy of our time; listens with an open heart ¯ a person who lives in the here and now. Listen to others--don't think about what you will answer. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, Dorothy became involved in the charismatic movement. Her manner of praying, expressed in her journals, reflects this new style. In June 1973, Dorothy wrote: "to remainfi'ee and open to the Spirit; to listen to what He speaks and then act on it" (16 June 1973,J6). On 20 March 1974, she wrote: The more you love Jesus and the more open you are with Him--the more lovable and beautiful all the rest of mankind becomes. Praise you, Jesus, for showing yourself so vividly and openly. I love you more because of all the love I expe-rience in people (hereafter cited as J8). Although Dorothy's spirituality grew steadily and evolved during the twenty years she was an Ursuline, there was a con-stant about it, something that did not change. This is her desire for union with God. Again, I saw this lifelong desire reflected in her personal writing. For example, in September 1970, Dorothy wrote: 816 Review for Religiotts Heavenly Father, I place myself in your hands. Lavish your love on me as I need to be strengthened. I am weak--I need you . I feel empty--void. Fill up this chasm with you. Lord, that I may be one with you and in you . Open my eyes, my ears--all my senses--so that they may draw you in so that I may more and more become you. Rid me of myself, Lord--it is not an asset, for it often gets in the way of you. Purify me--make me single-minded--all for you. Four years later, Dorothy wrote: I keep watching these two wooden pieces, Jesus. My theory did not seem to hold true--they did not burst into a flam-ing holocaust for you. No, they slowly, quietly became filled with the heat and burned through the center. Maybe that's more real, Lord. Maybe we just slowly become filled with you, and when it reaches the core of our being, and there is no more we can absorb, we transcend to another being; to another way of unity; to the way for which we are longing to be with you; to the way for which we came into being. Praise you, Jesus, and thank you for such a total consuming love. Envelope me in it now. Make me one with you (19 January 1974, JS). The older I get, the harder it is for me to believe that Dorothy was only 41 years old when she died. She was whole in so many areas of her life, especially in terms of her spirituality. She knew the essence of religious life, I believe, and was therefore not caught up in exter-nals. God truly was the center of her life. Her efforts to make God her center were not half-baked or mechanical. I am reminded here of something Dorothy wrote in her journal in November 1970: Overcome J?ar of. ¯ going into deep waters: Be courageous, open. ¯ going into the depths of the V~rord: Meditate in the morning. ¯ living the crucified, disciplined life: Accept suffering graciously, willingly. ¯ submitting to one another: Listen, be open. ¯ laying down [lmy] life in very service to others. ¯ letting the cross of Christ cut into [my] very soul: Love the cross--accept it totally--it is He. And Dorothy did much in her brief life, and there was much change in her life. But the stillpoint in all of this movement was her spiritual life. I think that this is her message to us--I know it is to me--that in such a quickly changing world as ours is today, in which few things are stable or permanent, our spirituality is our only stillpoint. November-December 1995 817 Glavac ¯ An Eternal Flame If I have learned anything about Dorothy, it is that she struggled throughout most of her life. Personal Struggles As a biographer, when I look at Dorothy's life, I see it lin-early: There are many parts that form a whole, and most of the parts seem related, and they therefore seem to fit together. When I look at her life from this perspective, I am very tempted to say, "Hmmm--she must have had a plan for her life; surely she must have known what she was doing at just about every step of the way." But any biographer, me included, who delves into the character of her or his subject, which cannot be mapped linearly, knows that this supposition simply is not true. If I have learned anything about Dorothy, it is that she struggled throughout most of her life. Some of Dorothy's struggles involved decisions she had to make, such as should she marry or follow a call to religious life? Soon after she began to attend St. John College in 1957, two important events happened to Dorothy: She met Cleveland Ursuline Sisters for the first time (she had had Franciscans in elementary school and Notre Dame Sisters in high school), and she also met Don Kollenborn, a youhg soldier from Bakersfield, California, who was stationed in Cleveland. She and Don began dating shortly before Christmas of that year. In the spring of 1958, Dorothy met more Cleveland Ursulines, this time at St. Robert's elementary school where she did field work for her education courses. One year later, in the spring of 1959, Dorothy and Don were engaged. They planned, to marry on 5 August 1960 and pro-ceeded to make wedding plans. That summer Dorothy got a job teaching the third grade at St. Robert School. In the midst of all this activity--and nobody knows exactly when--Dorothy began to feel attracted to religious life. In March of the following year, 1960, she made a retreat for engaged women; and ironically, this experience convinced her that she might indeed have a religious vocation. By this time, Don had returned to California, ~o Dorothy called him and told him what she was con-sidering. He flew to Cleveland immediately, stayed at the Kazel home for a week, and he and Dorothy spent thousands of hours (as he told me) discussing her desire to enter the convent. The months that followed were difficult, certainly for Don, but also for Dorothy, who, naturally, questioned herself and her 818 Review for Religious motives. As Don told me, "Dorothy worried about whether she would be able to follow the rules that she had to live with and was she really supposed to be a nun or not.''8 Apparently, Dorothy found the answers to her questions, for on 29June, she applied to my congregation. She returned Don's engagement ring in July. Another decision Dorothy had to make was what type of min-istry would she do in Cleveland when she returned from E1 Salvador? She was considering ministering to Hispanic people in Cleveland, but she is not certain about this, as she explained to Martha Owen in a taped (cassette) "letter" of January 1980: I probably would like the Hispanic work . I don't know. You know, I just don't know what my problem is--I just don't know--I have no inclination to any special area . I feel obliged and probably feel more inclined toward Beaumont simply because that's where I have come from, and I have at least some security there. But I don't know-- I just don't know. Isn't that terrible? I've been like this for so long, and I keep praying about it, but I just don't know what the Lord has in plan (hereafter cited as L3). Dorothy was also concerned about adapting to large-group community life again. Later, in the same letter quoted above, she clailns: I got a note from Sister Bartholomew at Christmas, and she said, "You really shouldn't feel an obligation to have to go to Beaumont." After talking to Sheila [Tobbe, one of our sisters currently ministering in El Salvador], there is so much to do there, and . . . it's not that it wouldn't be interesting, but the whole house structure does worry me, and it's been a problem . That's my biggest thing: I don't know if I'm going to be able to put up with this living in community business either (L3). Some of Dorothy's struggles involved situations about which she felt helpless, such as her father's alcoholism. Because Dorothy and her father shared a close relationship, when he drank, she got especially hurt and upset. As a young person, Dorothy also got angry at her father and would then experience guilt for feeling this way. When she got older, and particularly after she began working on her master's degree in guidance and counseling, Dorothy better understood her father's behavior and her reac-tion to it. However, his dependency on alcohol was a lifelong source of sorrow for her. Dorothy also certainly felt helpless about the political situa-tion in E1 Salvador during her final years there as she witnessed November-December 199~ 819 Glavac ¯ An Eternal Flame unrelenting violence and the slaughter of many innocent people she had come to love. In an effort to help alleviate the suffering and bloodshed, Dorothy appealed to our United States govern-ment to discontinue sending military aid to the Salvadoran gov-ernment. On 23 September 1980, she wrote a letter to then President Jimmy Carter. After she described scenes in which Salvadoran soldiers had terrorized innocent villagers, Dorothy wrote: Now I realize these soldiers are looking for "subversives," and they may have a right to do that--but do they have a right to do it in this manner? Do they realize how many really innocent people they kill because they have received wrong information? Do they investigate the information they received before they come and kill people? And the most appalling thing to me is that I am a North American, and MY government gave them money for the "durable equipment" they have so that it's relatively easy to get into the worst cantones9 without much trouble and kill innocent people because of the wrong information they have received. I really would like to know what you think of this sit-uation, Mr. President, and whether you really realize how many innocent people we are helping to kill. How do you reconcile all of this? About a month later, in another taped (cassette) "letter" to Martha Owen, Dorothy describes the great difference in artillery strength between the Salvadoran military forces and the guerrilla groups: It's like Indians against the United States Marines today. Really, I don't know how these guys are ever going to win this war. These guys are nothing but campesino guys . . . they all either have rifles or pistols, but the rifles are like overgrown BB guns. I just wonder how this is all going to turn out . And, you know, nay heart just aches for these people when I see what they've got to work with. And they're really hoping to win. I just don't know how these guys think they're going to do it when we're giving money ¯. so they [the military] can get up there easier to kill these guys . It just makes me ill when I see us doing this kind of garbage. In early November, Dorothy received a reply to the letter she had written to Jimmy Carter. John D. Blacken, Director of the Office of Central American Affairs, signed the letter dated 7 November 1980. Portions of it read: 820 Review for Religious We deplore the violence in El Salvador which is continuing at a high level . In such situations involving widespread violence from a variety of sources, it is tragic that innocent people become the victims. Nevertheless, the government's plans for elections and reforms are moving forward and may succeed in alleviating some of the conditions which have spawned the violence. The letter completely sidesteps the issue of American military aid to the Salvadoran government, as Dorothy must have noticed. We will never know what she thought, however, for less than a month later, Dorothy was dead--shot, most likely, with a bullet that had been manufactured in the United States. At various points in her life, Dorothy questioned her own self-image as well as her self-confidence. At the end of her retreat before her final profession in August 1968, Dorothy wrote the following resolution: "to accept the person I am with all my weaknesses and not to pretend that I don't have them." Several years later, when she was at Beaumont, Dorothy wrote in her journal, "I still wonder why people don't like me. Do I come on too strong?" (4 January 1974, JS). Another entry reads, "Sometimes I feel totally incapable of doing anything. Many things that I want are not what God wants for me. I have not fully accepted myself and my limitations. Sometimes I feel I do not belong to this community--I feel people 'like' me--they do not love me because I do not have much to offer." Because of all I have learned about Dorothy in these past few years, I have found much to admire about her. But her insecuri-ties and struggles endeared her to me even more and brought her down a few notches on Before her final profession in August 1968, Dorothy wrote the following resolution: "to accept the person I am with all my weaknesses and not to pretend that I don't have them." that pedestal that she had been slowly ascending since her death. Here was a human, ordinary person, I discovered--one to whom I as well as many others could relate, for who does not struggle today? In what other ways has Dorothy personally touched me? In her I have found a role model for my own life. I look to Dorothy mainly as an example of a courageous woman whose particular November-Deconber 1995 821 Glavac ¯ dn Eternal Flame brand of courage included risk-taking. When I fear taking risks, I contemplate the many risks Dorothy took, in particular the one which ultimately led to her death, and I am encouraged to travel beyond the familiar into unknown territory. During my times of complacency and passivity, I am bolstered by Dorothy's spirit of adventure and independence. For me, too, Dorothy is an exam-ple of a faith-filled religious woman who strove to make central what she felt was most important in her life: her spirituality. In short, for me and my life as a religious, Dorothy is an "eternal flame," and I will look to her wisdom and guidance to light my way into the future. Epilogue Although fifteen years have passed since Dorothy and her companions were murdered, my Ursuline congregation, Dorothy's family, and the American people in general, have never learned what happened on the night of 2 December 1980, and who is actu-ally responsible for the women's deaths. However, there is evi-dence that our government and the Salvadoran government covered up the crime within days of its occurrence.'° Information about the murders uncovered by our government's investigation was either never released to us, such as the manufacturer of the bullet fragments taken from Dorothy's body or only partially released to us--that is, two-thirds of the reports sent to us from the State Department and the FBI were edited with heavy, dark lines. Three-and-a-half years after the murder of the women, and only because our government conditioned its economic and mil-itary support to E1 Salvador on the resolution of this case, a trial was held on 23-24 May 1984, in E1 Salvador, and five national guardsmen were found guilty and sentenced to thirty years impris-onment. They remain in prison today because the Salvadoran Supreme Court ruled that the killings of the women were not political, and therefore, not covered by the amnesty passed by the Salvadoran National Assembly in 1992.'~ Although there is sufficient evidence to prove that high-ranking officers in the Salvadoran military planned in advance and then ordered the murder of Dorothy, Jean, Maura, and Ira,'2 nothing has been done by the United States or the Salvadoran government to implicate and punish these officers. Currently, our government continues to 822 Review for Religious supply military aid to E1 Salvador as well as train members of its military at the United States School of the Americas, Fort Benning, Georgia.'3 If the truth of Dorothy's life and death has spoken to us, we will tell this story of ongoing violence and oppression, and the flame will surely continue to burn.14 Notes ~ I choose fire as a metaphor for Dorothy because of her outgoing per-sonality, zealous attitude toward whatever task she undertook, involvement with the church's charismatic movement (see "Spirituality" section of article), and of course, the crucible of her martyrdom. The image of fire was also a favorite one of Dorothy's when she wrote about her growth in spirituality (see journal entry of 19 January 1974, also in "Spirituality" sec-tion of article). 2 Dorothy and Martha were the second pair of sisters my congrega-tion sent to El Salvador. The first pair had gone in 1968. 3 In 1976 my congregation's silver jubilarians donated their gift money to the diocesan mission in El Salvador. These are the contributions Dorothy refers to here. 4 Ana Carrigan, Salvador Witness: The Life and Calling of Jean Donovan (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1984), pp. 81-82. s A campesino is a landworker. In Latin America campesinos own so very little land that they are unable to support their families and conse-quently become dependent on nearby landowners. 6 Martha Owen OSU claims that Dorothy was keeping a personal journal up until her death. The journal was lost, however, in the trans-ference of Dorothy's personal effects from El Salvador to the United States after her murder. 7 Martha Owen OSU personal interview, 15 Oct. 1990. ~ Donald Kollenborn, telephgne interview, 17 Sept. 1991. 9 The term cantone means outpost. The villages and casarios (little group of houses) were cantones or outposys of the larger towns and cities. l0 Although it had been chronicled in various newspaper and magazine articles in the early years following the murders of the women, the story of the cover up of this crime had also been well-documented in a series of reports entitled Justice in El Salvador: A Case Study, A Report on the Investigation into the Killing of Four U.S. Churchwomen inEl Salvador which was published by The Lawyers Committee for International Human Rights from December 1980 to May 1984. Ana Carrigan also wrote about the cover up extensively in her Salvador Witness: The Life and Calling of Jean Donovan (Simon and Schuster, 1984). *~ I mean not political in an ironic sense; existing evidence, especially that evidence which was deliberately withheld leads to the conclusion that the murders were political. November-December 199Y 823 Glavac ¯ An Eternal Flame ~2 The United Nations-sponsored El Salvador Commission on the Truth ("Truth Commission"), whose purpose was to investigate human rights abuses during El Salvador's twelve-year civil war, published a report in March 1993 which confirmed the involvement of high-ranking Salvadoran officers in the murders of the four women. ~3 Three of the national guardsmen who murdered the four women are graduates of the school. ~4 For more information on the School of the kanericas, contact School of the Americas Watch, P.O. Box 3330, Columbus, Georgia 31903; Phone: (706) 682-5369; Fak: (706) 685-0280. A Different Spirit I want to tell you this: The moment will surely come when the Holy Spirit will be within you: a wild goose stretching and straining through storms with her taut body, determined. For that moment there will be nothing dove about the Spirit as she fiercely leads you through wholesome refusals and undreamt-of surrenders out into those wonderfully clear choices within the boundaries of which you will land so awkwardly; but you will be like her: exhilarated in your every part by such strong-wingdd full-feathered single-hearted fligh!! Bernadette McCarrick RSM 824 Review for Religious NESTOR GREGOIRE Opportunity of the Jubilee Year 2000 Immersed in my cultural sense that time is almost exclu-sively quantitative, I shared much of the cynical touch that was brought to any discussion of the year 2000. This appeared to be much ado about one more calendar year. A serious reading of Pope John Paul's apostolic let-ter Tertio Millenio Adveniente (10 November 1994) which launched preparations for the Great Jubilee changed all this. This document offers the opportunity to celebrate and share our faith within and outside the church. We have been given a piece of sheet music; now it is time for all committed Christians, religious and lay, to make the music that the vision of the jubilee year 2000 scores for us. Be Bold The great gift of this apostolic letter is its strong, pos-itive tone and encouragement for all of Christianity (cer-tainly not limited to the Catholic Church) to celebrate the entry into the new millennium as a time to celebrate and deepen our share in the Incarnation of God among us. Even though a strong academic background can give the tools of serious literary analysis, the mere under-standing of words, phrases, and sentences is always incom- Nestor Gregoire OMI can be addressed at: Box 1438; Battleford, Saskatchewan; Canada S0M 0E0. November-December 1995 825 Gregoire ¯ Opportunity of the Jubilee Year2000 plete when an official document is studied. All official documents have a "spirit" that may be imprecise, but it is very real and effec-tive within the life of the church at large. Nowhere in the apostolic letter is a command for the church to celebrate this jubilee. Everywhere there is a strong encour-agement; "Rejoice. Make real the great graces God has done among us." The letter does not set limitations but rather offers positive motivation to enter more deeply into the salvation of God among us. This is not a uniform program designed by people in the high levels of church bureaucracy. It is rather an open-ended invitation to become more what God wants to happen in Christ Jesus in our world today. The letter wi'ites about joy: The term jubilee speaks of joy; not just an inner joy but a jubilation which is manifested outwardly, for the coming of God is also an outward, visible, audible, and tangible event, as St. John made clear (1 Jn 1:1). It is thus appropriate that every sign of joy at this coming should have its own outward expression. This will demonstrate that the church rejoices in salvation. She invites everyone to rejoice, and she tries to create conditions to ensure that the power of salvation may be shared by all (§16). As I read through the letter I found myself stopping for a few moments: Now, how can I make this tangible in our parish com-munity? What can the parish do to express joy in the jubilee.year? The challei~ge broadens our imagination. Christ Centered The letter of John Paul seeks to bring the church to a deeper appreciation of the unique importance of salvation brought by God, past and today. "The fact that in the fullness of time the Eternal Word took on the condition of a creature gives a unique cosmic value to the event which took place in Bethlehem two thousand years ago . . . and it is .the same Word who, by taking flesh, renews the cosmic order of creation" (§3). The vision of the jubilee year is that Christ continues to give meaning, hope and direction to humanity. God is as much at work within our history in the latter part of the 90s as he was at the birth of Jesus. God's activity does not slow down and cease with the accumulation of the calendar years. 826 Review for Religious The Objective of the Jubilee The letter describes the jubilee in these words: Everything ought to focus on the primary objective of the jubilee: the strengthening of faith and of the witness of Christians. It is therefore necessary to inspire in all the faithful a true longing for holiness, a deep desire for con-version and personal renewal in a context of ever more intense prayer and of solidarity with one's neighbor, espe-cially the most needy" (§42). The turning of a millennium offers reflection on the meaning of time. Time is not merely chronological. It has salvific meaning. "In Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, time becomes a dimension of God" (§10). Time is never empty of God's purpose. "From this relationship of God with time there arises the duty to sanctify time" (§ 10). With this sense of God's redeeming power in time, the move-ment to the third millennium is the opportunity to celebrate and enter more deeply into the eternal plan of salvation. The prepa-rations that we are called upon to begin are a specific means to deepen the participation of all humanity in God's redemption of humanity. Rooted in the Church All the preparations and the actual jubilee are clearly linked with the best efforts of the church to renew itself. There is no breaking new ground here. Rather the letter offers new energy to the renewal sought by the Second Vatican Council. "The best preparation for the new millennium, therefore, can only be expressed in a renewed commitment to apply, as faithfully as pos-sible, the teachings of Vatican II to the life of every individual and of the whole church" (§20). Repentance as the Door Some Catholics may be surprised at the openness to past fail-ures and sins within the church expressed in the document. Repentance is a necessary partner in the jubilee year. "She cannot cross the threshold of the new millennium without encouraging her children to purify themselves, through repentance, of past errors and instances of infideli~, inconsistency and slowness to act" (§33). November-December 1995 827 Gregoire ¯ Opportunity of the Jubilee Year 2000 Our parish communities will be asked to cover new ground if they take to heart the teachings of this apostolic letter. "The church should become more fully conscious of the sinfulness of her children, recalling all those times in history when they departed from the spirit of Christ and his Gospel and, instead of offering to the world the witness of a life inspired by the values of faith, indulged in ways of thinking and acting which were truly forms of counter-witness and scandal" (833). A parish commu-nity might spend prayerful time identifying the ways that we have It is a time for the church to continue seeking for what is just and truthful in the world, even if the church herself is made uncomfortable by her own questions about justice. failed as a church and publicly ask for-giveness, even it is be only within the local parish community. It will take a brave spirit to openly admit past sins. Repentance does not stop with the evils of our history. We are seriously chal-lenged to be responsible for the evils of today. "Many cardinals and bishops expressed the desire for a serious exami-nation of conscience above all on the part of the church today. Christians need to place themselves humbly before the Lord and examine themselves on the responsibility which they too have for the evils of our day" (836). How do we identify and take owner-ship for our complicity in the shadow side of society and the many troubles in the world? Timid or polarized parish communities may not be able to handle this one. It could become too explosive. Mature parish communities will be able to speak to the ways that Christians are a source of oppression and sin in today's world. Risk Taking The spirit of the document clearly shows that the church and the preparations for the jubilee are anything but timid. It is a time for the church to continue seeking for what is just and truth-ful in the world, even if the church herself is made uncomfortable by her own questions about justice. A thoughtful reading shows that the church herself will be challenged by many of the questions that she asks of the modern world. 828 Review for Religious Preparations for the jubilee year involve taking risks within the church. This can happen in three ways: 1. Christianity is making great strides in understanding and building new bridges to the great religions of the world. Not everyone is comfortable with the official position that hopes "the eve of the year 2000 will provide a great opportunity, especially in view of the events of recent decades, for interreligious dialogue. In this dialogue the Jews and the Muslims ought to have a preeminent place. God grant that as a confirmation of these intentions it may also be possihle to hold joint meetings in places of significance for the great monotheistic religions (§53). Will this hope meet with sharp criticism from within the church? How do we enter into interreligious dialogue when we have been in such sharp opposition for centuries? This is cer-tainly breaking into the new territory. 2. The jubilee will certainly be a time to give strong empha-sis to the "church's preferential option for the poor and the out-cast." But will anyone be brave enough to go further with the teaching of this document? Are the people of the church willing to deal with the following challenge? "Christians will have to raise their voice on behalf of all the poor of the world, proposing the jubilee as an appropriate time to give thought, among other things, to reducing substantially, if not canceling outright, the international debt which seriously threatens the future of many nations (§51). The third risk involves women and family rights: 3. "The jubilee can also offer an opportunity for reflecting on other challenges of our time, such as the difficulties of dia-logue connected with respect for women's rights and the promo-tion of the family and marriage" (§51). 1997 - Year One: Jesus Christ The letter proposes a three-year period of reflection on the Trinity. The jubilee is clearly Christological in spirit. The general theme proposed for the first year is: "Jesus Christ, the one Saviour of the world, yesterday, today and forever" (§40). During this first year there is to be a renewed appreciation of Christ and a "deeper understanding of the mystery of the Incarnation and of Jesus' birth from the Virgin Mary" (§40). As November-December 199Y 829 Gregoire * Opportunity of tbe 3~ubilee Year 2000 part of this year of preparation there is a desire that there be a renewed interest in the Bible and the sacrament of baptism. 1998 - Year Two: The Holy Spirit This second year "will be dedicated in a particular way to the Holy Spirit and to his sanctifying presence within the commu-nity of Christ's disciples" (§44). The focus of this second year will be to "include a renewed appreciation of the presence and activity of the Spirit who acts within the church" (§45). Hopefully this year will help the church to become more sen-sitive to the movement of the Holy Spirit to evangelize our soci-ety with the Gospel and bring new hope for the gift of eternal life. 1999 - Year Three: God the Father The scope of this final year of preparation is large. "The third year., will be aimed at broadening the horizons of believers, so that they will see things in the perspective of Christ; in the per-spective of the "Father who is in heaven" (§49). The third year links all our the Christian life together. "The sense of being on a journey to the Father should encourage everyone to undertake, by holding fast to Christ the Redeemer of man, a journey of authen-tic conversion" (§50). Practical Applications The document does not give any concrete directives about what should be done. Each parish, diocese, religious community, and family will have to plan how it will prepare for and celebrate this great jubilee. Some might groan that this is another program which will mean more work. It is not meant to be an additional burden; rather it is to be integrated into the spiritual works and ministry of the parish. The preparations and actual celebration should be incorporated into what is already in place but also allow us to be open to creative suggestions. It certainly cannot be a uniform celebration of the faith. As each parish community studies the document it may find that cer-tain parts will have more influence on their life as a faith com-munity than other sections of the document. 830 Revie~v for Religious I thought of several practical suggestions after I read the letter. 1. Gathering community members together this year to study the document will bear great fruit. The importance of this study will be ~o glean the "spirit" of the jubilee. 2. Religious communities and parishes might seek to link the season of Advent each year with their preparations for the year ~000. Advent would give focus to the coming of the Messiah and thd future coming of Christ in the next millennium. Since Advent is a time of joy and anticipation, preparations for the jubilee could share that same joy and anticipation. 3. Other communities might seek to have a spiritual event each and every year. As an example it might be a parish retreat, a parish mission or other form of spiri-tual renewal that has continuity over the three years of immediate preparation for the jubilee. .4. As a sign of our willingness to come to grips with the sins of the past we Each parish, diocese, religious community, and family will have to plan how it will prepare for and celebrate this great jubilee. might have acts of prayer and repentance. In my parish our church building is located within a short walk from the site of Canada's largest mass hanging. Although this terrible event happened a hundred and ten years ago it still is a sorry mark of our treat-ment of Canada's native peoples. Every faith community could find similar instances of past sins. 5. A diocese might organize a special time for prayer for each of the parishes throughout the year. For example, there may a spe-cial time of pr~yer that rotates from parish to parish. After fifty-two weeks each of the parishes has participated in this prayer time. 6. Happy the parish community that will be able to have a special spirihaa! event in each of the households of the parish. A parish might organize a special family prayer service that is passed from household to household until all in the parish has taken part in this prayer service within their home. J~ach suggestion must try to link all ages and groups within the parish. No one should be left out. We must be creative and enter into the vision that this apostolic letter calls us to have. The document is packed with possibilities. This one article cannot hope to do justice to its vision. No one should expect November-December 199Y 831 Gregoire ¯ Opportunity of tbe ffubilee Year 2000 everyone to become involved in every part of the document. Christians will have to do what is possible in their own situation. At this point in time no one individual has a plan of how to accomplish this. When the pope gave final approval to this doc-ument he did not have the concrete details worked out. The chal-lenge rests with the people of the church. They will not be disappointed by this jubilee. The members of my parish council encourage me: "Let's try it!" Rainbow of the Years Red the beginning with sharp pains of birthing, then childhood softly oranged into you th's yellow lesson that life holds its promise, its dreams and spring. Greening years bear hope of buds turned blossoms, only to be blued with challenges and tears. Indigo deepens to violet's quiet ache of aging. An arch of muted glory spanning life-to-death time now fades into the heavens, the rainbow's work complete. Maria Corona Crumback IHM 832 Review for Religious CASSIAN J. YUHAUS The 1994 Synod: Uniqueness and Challenge SninCe October, 1994 I have been happy to share with large umbers of religious, some diocesan clergy, and even a few bishops something of the experience of the synod. This I have done frequently along with Sr. Doris Gottemoeller RSM and Fr. Gerald Brown SS who were personally invited to the synod by the pope. It must be said clearly that these are my own personal reflec-tions. They have no other value than that. I do not speak for the synod; only the pope can do that. I speak of the synod, and that we all can do and should do. The Uniqueness of the Synod on the Consecrated Life There have been fourteen synods. None of them contains the uniqueness expressed in this the ninth ordinary synod of October 1994. There are at least six reasons why this synod can claim such distinction, all having to do with the theme, "The Consecrated Life and Its Role in the Church and the World of Today." The first reason stands alone in importance and impact. Never before in its nearly 2000-year history has the entire church throughout the world been called to concentrate with such depth and persistence on the very nature, the meaning and the func-tioning of religious life: What is it? Why is it? How does it work? Cassian Yuhaus CP served as a peritus at the 1994 synod of bishops, con-vened to study The Consecrated Life in the Church and the World. His address is Ministry for Religious; 631 Griffin Pond Road; P.O. Box 2567; Clarks Summits, Pennsylvania 18411. November-December 199~ 833 Yuhaus * The 1994 Synod Nor was this concentration limited to hierarchy or certain mem-bers of the church. The entire church was asked to reflect, to s~udy, to speak, and to pray on the consecrated life. A further dis-tinguishing note is that this study was to be done simultaneously. In reality the Holy Father called upon th~ entire church to pause and take a good look at what by every measure is one of the most fascinating faces the church turns to the world: the consecrated life--the tens of thousands of her faithful on every continent who vow to live poverty, chastity, and obedience perpetually. Secondly, this pause was not a mere passing glance or token recognition of sisters, priests, brothers, and members of secular institutes. Every bishops' conference and every conference of major superiors in every nation was to study and respond to a carefully prepared and lengthy statement on the theme of the synod. To this worldwide group were added other individuals and agencies such as curia cardinals and heads of departments of the Holy See and experts throughout the world. The statement each was asked to respond to is entitled Lineamenta which strictly means, outlines or guidelines. This doc-ument is prepared by a special group of carefully chosen individ-uals who would present what they see as the "Status Questions," the state of the question. What is it we are to talk about? What is the situation we face? What are the issues? What problems as well as what achievements and values? The response was to be confidential so as to assure maximum freedom. A third claim to uniquene.ss was the rumble, the agitation, the anxiety the synod caused throughout the woi'ld and not only among those most immediately concerned, the religioias, but beyond the confines of the Catholic communion, among other Christian faiths who boast numbers of their faithful who likewise embrace a particular expression of gospel life in community. The interest spread beyond the borders of Christiaiaity among those most ancient orders of monks within the oriental religions who desired to be and were represented at the synod. Never before have so many experts, so many writers, so many leaders of religious/monastic life dedicated themselves to such a thorough examination of the path to which, in their conviction, only God could have called them. And only God could have sus-tained them in what became at times a hard, bitter and demand-ing response even unto blood. We have yet to make a taxonomy of this outpouring of books, articles, lectures, symposia and con- 834 Review for Religious ferences. It is rich in the extreme, numbering in the thousands. An international conference of major consideration took place in Rome in November 1993 at which some 500 leaders, experts, and consultants gathered to reflect on religious life and to prepare a response for the synod. A fourth reason for uniqueness should not be overlooked. I refer to the length of this "pause." It was not a matter of a hur-ried response and be done with it. The dialogue and research, the con-sultancy and response went on for more than four years. The synod on the Consecrated Life was announced by our Holy Father, for only the pope can designate a theme, in 1990. The synod was to take place in 1993 but because of the already important special synod for all Africa, the date was postponed to October 1994. This was to turn to the advantage of the entire church because in this final year of study an enormous amount of more precise and insight-ful work had been accomplished. This extra year highlights the fifth reason for the uniqueness of this synod: the critique of the response to the Lineamenta, the pre-liminary statement on religious life. This document was thoroughly ana- Never before have so many experts, so many writers, so many leaders of religious/monastic life dedicated themselves to such a thorough examination of the path to which, in their conviction, only God could have called them. lyzed, particularly by the conferences of religious throughout the world. For the most part it was rejected as unworthy of the synod. Despite the prohibition, many of these critiques were released in whole or in part to wide groups within the church and even to the public. The Lineamenta, or preliminary document, was seen to be in many areas an inaccurate expression of the reality, more backward- than forward- looking, more negative than positive, and insufficiently expressing the ecclesiology and theology of the Second Vatican Council. We must keep in mind that the document was a preliminary statement. It gave proof to the effectiveness of the synod process. The synod works. And works well. All these responses were wel- November-December 1995 835 Yuhaus * The 1994 Synod corned. Each was carefully studied and an entirely new document was written, in itself a monumental task. This new document, Instrumentum laboris, the working paper for the synod, shall remain one of the finest products of the entire synod process. Even though at present it is no longer accessible, it will become one of the more significant references on the consecrated life in all future study. Perhaps the sixth reason why this synod is rightly claimed to be unique should have been mentioned first. In and by itself it is The participation of the women at the synod was active, dynamic and effective. They were welcomed warmly. sufficient to verify the claim of distinction for the ninth ordinary synod. I speak of the presence of women, the women religious, members of the monastic traditions, East and West, and mem-bers of the secular institutes. How they got there is in itself a fascinating story. At first there was no mention of women. Their fears were well expressed. Would they be subject to yet another manifestation of patriarchy whereby the strongest and most powerful group of men in the world would determine the mean-ing and the way of life of women without their having a word to say about it? The women reli-gious themselves made strong protestations, par-ticularly underscoring the fact that of all the religious in the world, women comprise some 72 %. The women's voices were joined by a large majority of male religious and by many bishops. The entire matter was presented to Pope John Paul II. Many alternatives were suggested. Finally the Holy Father invited the International Union of Superiors General (UISG) to elect twenty members from throughout the world to represent women religious. To this number he personally invited some thirty more women religious. The representation was by no means min-imal or token. Altogether sixty-one women were active in the synod. Seventeen percent of the synod membership were women. Nor did the matter rest with representation. The further issue had to be faced: What role would women have? How active and real would their participation be? It was clear they would not vote. Neither did the male reli-gious vote, except the twenty superiors general of male congre-gations who, as ordinaries and by the canon law of the synod, are permitted to vote. The vote belongs to the bishops. 836 Review for Religious But the women did have voice. Each was free to speak in the general assembly. Each could likewise submit a written interven-tion. The participation of the women at the synod was active, dynamic and effective. They were welcomed warmly. They received equal treatment and were listened to carefully. Their effectiveness was in the small linguistic group discussions where they could debate the issue, represent their convictions and actively share with the cardinals and bishops in formulating the final proposals which, after all, contain the meaning and intent of the synod and are its principal result. It was these proposals, fifty-five of them, that were finally voted upon in the last session. In the general assembly each one passed by near unanimity but they had already passed the scrutiny and the approval of the working groups in which the women vitally participated. Three Challenges Challenge One: New Styles, New Forms, New Expressions of the Consecrated Life The face of consecrated life has changed profoundly since the call to renewal of the Second Vatican Council. Based on the five renewing principles expressed in Perfectae caritatis--the pri-macy of the Gospel, the rediscovery of charism, insertion into the mission of the church, solidarity with the real world, and gen-uine renewal of spirit, religious institutes globally have embarked courageously on a new way, leaving old ways aside. Conventional apostolates, primarily education and health care, have given way to a variety of new ministries. Internal structures of common life and governance have become radically transformed for most insti-tutes. Meantime, in the young churches a~ well as in the long-established churches, entirely new forms and expressions of religious life have arisen. Instrumentum laboris, the working paper and agenda of the synod, while continually acknowledging the pneumatological and prophetic nature of the religious life and its rightful need for a cer-tain autonomy in the safeguarding and development of its proper charism within a life-giving ecclesiology, nonetheless, recognizes the extent and depth of current challenges that have affected, and continue to affect, the expression and experience of the conse-crated life. These challenges are discussed under a threefold prevalence: Noven~ber-Decenzber 1995 837 Yubaus ¯ The 1994 Synod 1. As related to culture and special changes of modern times: "In this final decade of the 20th Century, society is marked by great technological and scientific progress., the oppor-tunities offered to Catholicism today are great, responding to the deepest aspirations of the consecrated life" (IL §16). 2. As related to specific geographic differences: "In the countries of the Northern hemisphere, members of the institutes of consecrated life are aging and decreasing in number. In the countries of the Southern hemisphere, the opposite is happening--they are becoming younger and more numerous. In geographic terms there is a shift from north to south, from west to east" (IL §22). 3. As related to particular forms of religious life: "A com-plete treatment of the consecrated life, however, demands that we take into account some specific problems concern-ing certain forms of the consecrated life., not in order to exclude other realities, but to look at some meritorious aspects in the context of a universalism of the church which does not ignore forms that may be less significant in size but no less deserving of proper attention" (IL §30). In his excellent opening address, Cardinal Hume presents an admirable and provocative summary of the challenges in this tran-sitional period of the religious life: ¯ challenges to the episcopal ministry (nos. 17 and 18) ¯ challenges of spirituality (no. 19) ¯ challenges of fraternal life (no. 20) ¯ the place of the consecrated women (no. 21) ¯ challenges of mission and inculturation (nos. 22 and 23) ¯ relationships to other states of life and to vocation (nos. 25 and 26). A large number of synodal fathers have likewise addressed the issue of new and different expressions of the consecrated life. These interventions for the most part have been positive, recog-nizing the reality of the transformation taking place, and praising the courage and daring with which religious have approached new and often conflictual situations. Other synodal fathers have addressed the issue of entirely new beginnings of religious life, especially in the younger churches. Nonetheless, a significant number of interventions have likewise expressed fear, anxiety, and serious concern that new and divergent lifestyles and expressions leave much to be desired and give rise to serious concerns about relationships between religious and hierarchy, religious and laity and among and within religious institutes themselves. Very many 838 Review for Religious of these interventions are concerned with the problem of the identity of consecrated life today. Briefly put, new and divergent lifestyles, as indicated by var-ious synodal fathers, have a fourfold expression: 1. from an inward to an outward movement; from forms readily recognized and uniform manners and expressions, including the religious habit to a pluralism in lifestyles; 2. from a hierarchic and readily identifiable structure of government to collegial and highly participative forms; 3. from conventional, corporate and very effective min-istries, primarily in education and health care, to a large variety of autonomous ministries, addressing new and demanding ecclesial and societal needs which frequently depend upon the daring and initiative of individual reli-gious; 4. from fixed forms of fraternal life and prayer in common to freely-elected lifestyles and disciplines of prayer and penance, even within and among members of the same com-munity. Besides these major transformations taking place in the well-established institutes, entirely new forms of apostolic and com-munity life are appearing that reflect and/or contain many elements of the consecrated life. The synod recognized the pastoral care bishops must have for all religious. In the rightful exercise of their office to enable religious sisters, brothers and priests to maintain their conse-cration and mission in the church, two questions need to be addressed: 1. In the face of the major transformations in the lifestyle and ministries of established religious institutes, responding to the mandate of the Second Vatican Council, and subse-quent directives of the supreme pontiffs and the Holy See, what words of help and encouragement may be given? What cautions may be expressed? What hope for the future? 2. With careful precision, what norms need to be expressed whereby new forms of the consecrated life may be identified and recognized by the local ordinary so as to, at an oppor-tune time, present these to the Apostolic See to whom alone it belongs to institute a new form? Moreover, will these forms be distinguished from other ecclesial movements and associations of the faithful? In responding to these questions, the working paper is help-ful in its reflection that: November-December 199~ 839 Yubaus ¯ Tbe1994 Synod The renewal of all the People of God is brought about by the Spirit through the re-invigorating of the forms of life that already exist, and through the raising up of new ones in the course of history in response to the needs of the church. If new groups fit into already sanctioned forms, according to the original inspiration of the founders, they are approved as such (IL §37). In responding to the first question above, on the major trans-formation in long-established institutes, two cautions should be expressed: 1. It cannot be a question of returning to the past and insist-ing or imposing forms or styles that seemed so efficient, effective, and unambiguous in a different milieu. 2. It seems one would want to be careful not to exclude these new and, at times, radically different expressions of religious life from the identity of consecrated life, as several synodal fathers indicated. Most contain very apt and appro-priate expressions of the new evangelization. In responding to the second question regarding entirely new forms, the following considerations will be helpful. "It must be taken into consideration that only those who assume all three evangelical counsels can be considered members of an institute of consecl:ated life" (IL §38). Nonetheless, it is possible that newer forms of the consecrated life may be emerging. The working paper further cautioned: A primary discernment is necessary consisting in weighing whether or not the new forms are in continuity with what is essential to the consecrated life through the profession of the evangelical counsels. Another aspect to be clarified is whether or not it involves groups of evangelical life which fit into one of the existing canonical forms . It would then be a question not of new forms, but of new institutes or societies (IL §37). To clarify the issue of new forms, two other points were made: 1. The Apostolic See alone can institute a new form of con-secrated life; 2. Groups must discern whether they want to be recognized and constituted as a new expression of the consecrated life or as associations of the faithful with the character of an ecclesial movement. Whether we are speaking of the major transformations in both lifestyle and ministry of long-established institutes or of entirely new forms and expressions of religious life, the synodal 840 Review for Religious participants offered a large number of incisive reflections. Some of these follow: 1. While the fundamental characteristics remain essential to the consecrated life, there is broad scope for legitimate diversity. The failure to recognize diversity as legitimate, indeed, as a gift of the Spirit, can result in unnecessary ten-sions, fear and accusation. 2. New expressions are to be studied in the light of the essential elements and the charism of specific Congregations so as not to stifle them but to discover the creative move-ment of the Holy Spirit. 3. Religious address the underlying causes of social distress to eliminate injustice where ever it is found. 4. Religious lobby political leaders to improve situations that deprive people of rights to basic human dignity. 5. Religious life will only have meaning and a future if it is clearly experienced as being directly involved in the truly critical issues of our time, not of the past. 6. Some religious congregations may perhaps die out in this process of insertion into the present . . . new forms or expressions of evangelical living are coming into being in the church and will continue to do so because the Spirit will always call people committed to the reign of God to live the Gospel in changing contexts. 7. The hierarchy should not be afraid of being challenged by the questioning and the searching of religious in their quest to be faithful to their fundamental options for the poor . . . religious must also discern how their insertion and witness can be "pastorally fruitful." . . . The central challenge both for religious and hierarchy is the ability to prayerfully discern together in the Spirit. 8. The charismatic structure is not to be placed against-- opposed to--the hierarchic structure as if they were two separate entities. Proceeding from the one source, the Spirit, they belong to the one and same church. They are insepa-rable. 9. As in the case with the initial authentication of a new charism, there is a concomitant need for prudent discern-ment in new expressions of diversity and interpretation of charism. '10. While the fundamental characteristics remain essential to consecrated life, there is broad scope for legitimate diver-sity. The failure to recognize diversity as legitimate, indeed as a gift of the Spirit can result in unnecessary tensions, fear and accusations. Noventber-December 1995 841 Yubaus ¯ Tbe1994 Synod 11. There is need to develop a better process of dialogue so that at every level, from the Holy See to the particular church, bishops may acquire a better understanding of the many dimensions of authentic consecrated life and the diverse ways it is continually impacted by the historical-cultural context in which it is lived. 12. A major transformation of the consecrated life is already under way; newer movements are emerging today. Religious communities are responding in a radically newer way to the cry of the poor; a new expression of religious life is required. Challenge Two: Consecrated Life and the Laity Instrumentum laboris makes frequent reference to the new awareness on the part of the laity regarding the role and devel-opment of the consecrated life in the church and the world today and speaks of the ways in which there can be a mutual enrich-ment of both ways of Gospel life. Experiencing the church as an organic communion through a complementarity of the gifts of the Spirit, in the light of the mystery of the call to holiness of all those reborn in Christ in virtue of baptism, has generally lead to construc-tive collaboration between the lay faithful and the faithful consecrated through the profession of the evangelical coun-sels. Consecrated persons are united more profoundly to Christ in the paschal mystery of his death and resurrection, profess the evangelical counsels and offer their whole being to God. In this way, they remind all the faithful--but espe-cially the laity--that this world can be transformed only through the spirit of the beatitudes (IL §80). In the "Relatio Ante," the opening address, Cardinal Hume further elaborates on this relationship and the advantages that may accrue to both: Spirituality experienced by consecrated persons !s also nec-essary for others who search for ways and teachers of spir-ituality in our pluralistic world. This search is not only strong in cultures of traditional religions as in Asia, but also in the West and for this reason spirituality is a new are-opagus of mission (see RM 38) . Consecrated persons must be witnesses of spirituality, capable of speaking about the things of God based on their own experience and become guides of interior progress; and religious centers ~aust not only be strategic points of missionary irradiation but also practical schools of spirituality. Today, the laity expect from the consecrated above all an 842 Review for Religious example of holiness and accompaniment in a way, generi-cally and specifically, that is according to the spirituality of the charism. "There is a desire to participate in the spirio tuality and the very mission of the institutes in a comple-mentarity of vocations" (IL ~80; see §98). Such condivision of the spirituality and the mission of the Institutes is not only for the good of the associated persons, but for the whole church (Art. 19 and 25). Many synodal fathers expressed their conviction of the value and importance of this conjunction between the consecrated life and the laity. The consecrated life is seen as bringing a new impulse to the faith expressions of the laity, responding to their thirst for God, leading them to a deeper meaning of their proper secularity as a vocation-fulfillment and engaging them in a mutual sharing of charism and spirituality. It seemed altogether proper that the synod should continue the expressions of praise and encouragement contained in the working paper for a closer and more enriching relation between religious and laity. At the same time some cautions may need to be expressed: 1. Is there the danger of obscuring or confusing further one or other or even both vocations? 2. How would this increased relationship affect a distinctive call to the consecrated life? 3. What effect may this relationship have on perpetuity of commitment to the consecrated life? A growing concern, not only in the western world but else-where, a concern already brought to the attention of the Apostolic See is what has been given the broad title of "associate" partici-pation in the life and mission of various Institutes of religious life. This refers to ways in which members of the laity, Catholic and Christian, may become more closely allied to an institute even by way of contractual agreement and paraliturgical initia-tion or acceptance. In many instances these forms of association with religious institutes arise and take form without any knowl-edge of the local ordinary. The question arises as to the timeliness of recognition of such forms of association and, perhaps, a pre-liminary statement of some guidelines or norms. The following statements of various synodal participants illus-trate strongly the importance of a new and deepened relation-ship between members of the institutes of consecrated life and the laity: November-December 199 ~ 843 Yuhaus ¯ The 1994 Synod ¯ Religious must invite, encourage the laity to join hands with them as by baptism and confirmation the laity too are committed to the same cause. It is vitally important to ban-ish any lingering suspicions of each other or rivalries between the different vocations of the People of God. ¯ Religious are a gift, not only to the church but to the world. Their dialogue of communion must go out to all God's people including members of others faiths and those of no faith. ¯ Laity expressed the need for religious to keep people informed of changes and of different forms of ministry and the need to participate in faith-forming communities. Religious should be inspired to invite laity to share and express the spirit and spirituality of their congregation. ¯ The validity of religious life in the church and in society will be experienced in its charismatic power to call indi-viduals to be with others who are similarly committed to a life in the Spirit. We are looking for consecrated persons to move out radically from their own internal concerns into a way of living with the people where they are. They see that their first witness is to these (the people): a witness of being rather than doing. This way of being in touch with the world and of taking that world seriously needs to be further encouraged. ¯ It is not enough to be close to the laity but religious must invite laity to become closely involved with them so that the "Spirit of the Beatitudes"--which is the substantial wit-ness of the consecrated life--will become the spiritual cli-mate in which the laity fulfill their proper secular vocation. ¯ Catholic monasteries and religious houses should do more to help Catholics engage in personal prayer. The Catholic Church needs many more spiritual masters of prayer, of meditation, of contemplation who will make the riches of Catholic prayer and mystical tradition available to more Catholics. ¯ Numbers of people everywhere in the world are longing for a deep, personal experience of God to find meaning in their lives. Challenge Three: The Future: Participation in Decision Making and Pastoral Planning The indispensable union of the consecrated life with the life and mission of the church and its intimate bonding flow through-out the working paper particularly under the ecclesiology of com-munion. Post-conciliar ecclesiological reflection has brought about a renewed awareness that all the components of the eccle- 844 Review for Religious sial fabric are called to work together to build up the one Body of Christ. On the one hand, the ~nembers of insti-tutes of consecrated life, in conformity with their own charism, have been led to give greater value to the partic-ular church, seeking their own manner of active presence in it. On the other hand, the bishops, with due respect for the proper autonomy of life and government of the institutes, have often made an effort for greater joint planning. From the responses it is seen that, generally, there is a sincere desire to build authentic relationships of communion and collaboration among bishops, institutes of consecrated life, secular clergy and laity. Consecrated persons on their part are becoming more aware of their duty to be promoters of communion in the particular church through the meaning of their consecration in the church and their witness to the universality of the Gospel message, which goes beyond differences of any kind based on race, culture, tribe, and so forth, and through their solidarity and availability to all, especially to the very poor. In such a manner, they create bonds between the church and those marginalized groups which frequently are not reached by ordinary pastoral activity (IL §73). In his opening address, Cardinal Hume devoted the entirety of Part I to "The Role of the Apostolic College Regarding the Consecrated Life," stating: We are here to deal with consecrated life as the synod of Bishops and therefore above all as pastors in union with the Pope. The reality of consecrated life is our concern and part of our episcopal duty. We are in fact pastors of every-one in the churches confided to us and of all the members which make it up. This role of the episcopate in consecrated life can be assumed also by its ecclesial dimension. In fact, there is no consecrated life outside of the life and mission of the church. This comes from the Spirit for the good of the Mystical Body of Christ, it is recognized and erected as a consecrated state to God from legitimate pastors, it lives only as the branch attached to the trunk, participates in the mission confided to the church. In the final section of his provocative discourse, his Eminence put the challenges of the consecrated life to the episcopal ministry in the form of two questions: ¯ How can one understand and make all God's People understand the meaning, the place and mission of conse-crated life in the variety of its charisms? November-December 1995 845 Yubaus ¯ The 1994 Synod ¯ How can one find suitable ways and opportune means not only to promote real ecclesial relations between bishops and consecrated persons, but also to fulfill our duty as priest in relation to consecrated life, respecting the right autonomy and different charisms? No other point had been more frequently made by the synodal fathers in the general congregations than the importance of clar-ifying some points within the document Mutuae relationes, par-ticularly at the time of major transformation within religious institutes and the coming to life of new and diverse forms of reli-gious vocation. Several interventions have called attention to one specific and exact form of relationship, namely pastoral planning. The presumption is that the local church is itself engaged in serious pastoral planning with the forecasting of needs and uti-lizations of resources. Where it is not, religious institutes feel bound to move by themselves in this important task. However, where pastoral planning is accepted, it would indeed, as one syn-odal father explained it, "Be absurd for religious to do parallel planning." The question arises that, following upon and enlarging on Mutuae relationes, is it opportune for this synod to insist and per-haps list some norms to assure: ¯ that religious fully integrate themselves within the local church situation and culture; ¯ actively participate in decision making and effective pas toral planning; ¯ assist in the analysis of local needs and ¯ express alternatives to meeting discerned needs of the local church. Surely one of the more certain and successful ways to assure a healthy interdependent and continued relationship is by way of pastoral planning, that is, by preparing norms whereby religious participate actively and continuously in the development of the pastoral plan for the local church. Some indications of suitable norms were contained in the fol-lowing interventions: I. The pastoral planning of and by religious must be inte-grated with the pastoral planning of the local church under the guidance of the bishop, its unifying source. It is absurd to parallel pastoral planning. Full collaboration of religious 846 Review for Religious with the bishop, priest and laity is necessary in the devel-opment and implementation of a pastoral plan. A commu-nications aspect should be part of every pastoral plan of every community. Every congregation should develop a b~sic plan for communications to make the Gospel known and to present a positive image of the consecrated life. 2. The response to Vatican II has led to radical changes in lifestyle and in ministry; these changes need to be reflected upon in the light of Scripture and Tradition as we develop a vision of the future of religious life. 3. Many religious complain that they are not invited to actively participate in the pastoral planning and decision making of the diocese. But, not seldom, religious especially those of pontifical right, set up their own programs and plan withotit even corisulting the bishop. 4. The synod should insist that: ¯ ~:eligious truly integrate themselves within the local situ ation and culture; ¯ be'open to the real and actual needs of the faithful in the local church; * be willing to involve themselves and actively participate in pastoral planning and in the decision making of the diocese. 5. Members of consecrated life often draw attention to the lack of opportunities for them to be involved in the decision making processes for the life of the Church. It is impor-tant that they be listened to and encouraged to participate when discussions take place concerning the pastoral respon-sibilities and activities o'f the church in a particular country. The Synod and the Future of Religious Life The s3inod has already had a significantly strong impact on religious life sifice its convocation in 1990. More has been writ-ten on religious life, its meaning, its role, its manifold expres-sions in the past five years than in the fifty preceding. And much more will come. It would be a service to the church and to religious universally were we to have an interpretive analysis of all that has been said according to the major geographic regions such as Africa, the Americas, especi~ally Latin America, East Europe, North and South Pacific. My conjecture is that while we would expectantly find ~ertain marked differences, there would be much more of a colaverg~nce on central themes, many of which were lucidated earlier. November-December 199~ 847 Yubaus ¯ Tbe1994 Synod The synod will have an important role to play in this inter-pretation of the consecrated life. Whatever will be written or said tomorrow will find necessarily a reference point in this synod. While as yet we do not know the size, the shape, the emphasis of the final document, we can say from the experience of the synod and the enormity of study and research preceding it, that the final document will have considerable weight. It cannot be expected to resolve all the issues raised during these synodal years. More than likely it will be the beginning of a series of more profound studies regarding the consecrated life and its role in the church and in society. Some of these areas of research we already know, such as deeper research into the meaning of consecration as it applies to all persons in the church and more specifically to those called to the profession of the evangelical counsels in an approved way of life sanctioned by the church and revelatory of its mys-tery and mission; the need to restudy and rewrite the important document on mutual relationships; the norms for distinguishing various new expressions of the consecrated life from other eccle-sial movements and groupings; the role of women religious in the proclamation of the Gospel and in decision-making positions. It may well be that the 1994 synod may be the turning point in the evolution of religious life. The synod did not look back-ward. Those who expected it to require a return to past and fixed forms and styles and yes, even dress, were bitterly disappointed. The final remarks of Cardinal Hume, the relator of the synod, are very insightful and encourging: A number of questions concerning some of the negative aspects of religious life were mentioned by some members of the synod in their interventions. There were but few such interventions. Problems, however, ought not be allowed to over-shadow so much that is positive and good in consecrated life . And there is much good. It see~ns to me that the synod fathers, being well aware of problems, nonetheless felt that they should concentrate on the ideal rather than on the difficulties and abuses. The synod has produced a fine ideal of consecrated life. I am grateful for this synod. Cardinal Hume went on to say that there is much hope in the synod but it will depend upon the way it is accepted, stud-ied, and seriously implemented. The enthusiasm, the study, the concern for the consecrated life engendered prior to the synod must continue after. If we were to take the Instrumentum laboris 848 Review for Religious alone as a basis of further discussion and increased understanding we would all be enriched. But we have much more. ~re will have the final report from our Holy Father and we have thousands of excellent articles, reflections, books, and reports that will enrich us and challenge us for decades to come, well into the third ~nillennium. This synod inaugurated a search for the fuller meaning and the clearer identity of the consecrated life. That search will con-tinue. A new awareness is dawning throughout the church of the precious-ness of the gift God has given the world and the church. The greatest good that can come from this synod is that this awareness so evident in those October days will reflect throughout the church. We are appalled when we recollect how very little had been said about religious life in the post-conciliar church. Little effort was taken topromote a positive image, to encourage and sustain the vocation to the consecrated life. Years went by without one intelligent and meaningful word being uttered in parish after parish; confusion and misconcep-tion even misrepresentation was allowed to cast a gloomy shadow across the path The synod will have an important role to play in this interpretation of the consecrated life. Whatever will be written or said tomorrow will find necessarily a reference point in this synod. that leads to the cloister. All that is about to change. We look to a reanimation of this gift to all the people of God when children will talk to one another about the mystery and wonder such a gift evokes, when schools will not eliminate the consecrated, life as a career opportunity, when parishes will call forth the giftedness of all its members and when the family shall again pray to God to be blest with a vocation to the consecrated life. Two signs of this new awareness are already evident. Throughout the church in the younger churches and in the well established churches, in East and IATest, new forms, new expres-sions of the consecrated life are budding forth. They are not a few. They number in the hundreds and they are attracting zeal-ous followers. Alongside this is the phenomenon of a variety of forms of associated membership whereby laity, married and sin-gle, young and old, Christian and nonChristian desire to align November-December 199Y 849 Yuhaus ¯ The 1994Synod themselves with the charism, the contemplative spirit and the apostolic zeal emanating from religious communities that were thought to be on the way out. I hazard to say that the October synod of 1994 will be the turning point in the evolution of that incomprehensible phe-nomenon, that elusive mystery, that Spirit-filled gift which hence-forward we shall refer to as the consecrated life. Stretch Out Your Hand! (Mark 3) In the Gospel Jesus initiated the cure, told the man to "Come here" and performed magical surgery on his shriveled hand so its fingers unfolded into flesh. Perhaps the man wasn't grateful. The Healer had snatched away his excuse for the random pities and coins of others. Now this hand couldn't remain unemployed; would be expected to find work. You're never completely grateful for being 9ured. Knowing your impairments snag you kindness, put you in the spotlight so others cringe at their fully functional selves. It's a kind of power. So you pray with ambivalence for your own healing, half frightened at the compassion God may feel for whatever is withered in you, half frightened at how you'll handle being whole again. Patricia Schnapp RSM 850 Review for Religious JOSEPH A. TETLOV~z From Useful Instruments to Willing Agents: Transforming Leadership for the New Millennium As an historian of American Catholic sph'imality, I have grown convinced that leadership of our religious con-gregations during the last half of the twentieth century has been better than ordinary, perhaps even historically outstanding. Conside,; then, how much a privilege I consider it to be addressing you men and women who are that leadership at the millennium. I am going to talk about your leadership in te,'ms of American social and intellectual histo,~y and American Catholic spirituality. That makes the task difficult enough, and to add to it, I cannot stop to distinguish contemplative and active lives, or to say much about the rich divergences between men and women. So I hope I am on target. My concern reminded me of a sto,:y in my family's lore about the day my mother picked up the phone and a little voice said, "I want to talk to Judy." "Well, honey, there's no Judy here." After a pause, the little voice said again that it wants to talk to Judy. "Well, darling, no Judy lives here; you must have dialed the wrong numbe,: " No pause this time: "Aw, lady, you answered the wrong phone." I hope you haven't dialed the wrong numbe,; and 1 hope I haven't answered the wrong phone. Joseph A. Tetlow SJ gave this presentation at the joint assem-bly of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM) and Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) in August 1995. His address is Jesuit Hall; 3601 LindeH Blvd.; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Noventber-December 1995; 851 Tetlow * From Useful Instruments to Willing Agents Between Vatican I and Vatican II, between the first automo-bile and Apollo I, the socioeconomic program of the West, in Roberto Mangabeira Unger's words, was "to turn all society into a world of patrons and clients."' Robber barons like Vanderbilt lavished patronage; their clients begged help. Bosses ruled "their" workers; bishops had "their" priests; religious superiors had "their" subjects. All these subjects were "clients," including the religious, who leaned on--the IndoEuropean root of client is klei, to incline to or lean on--their superiors. This patron/client relationship flourished in the Catholic belief that the Church was a perfect society? It offered religious superiors ready apostolic choices, for the most part shaped by realities in an immigrant church; it offered religious subjects ready obedience for their own holiness. The patron/client relationship made us instruments of our congregations--instruments, we believed, in God's hands. With the sociocultural revolutions of the sixties, our con-temporaries turned from the patron/client structure to the form of the personal.3 Even unskilled workers personalize production lines through "management circles." We want no longer to be instruments; we want to be personal agents--of company, church, congregation. The implications of this secular shift in the relationship between religious leadership and companions (which has super-seded the superior/subject relationship) are great. For we can be agents only as members of a community, enacting personal desires that are somehow the community's desires. In religious congre-gations as elsewhere, this demands that we form what Josiah Royce in The Problem of Christianity calls communities of memory. The women writing in Ann Patrick Ware's Midzoives of the Future were keenly aware of this.4 A community of memory grows from a foundational event which the community interprets through and throughout its his-tory. From that event, interpretation, and history, each commu-nity's charism, mission, and identity grow. Here are the roots to which we return in the postconciliar generation--foundational event, interpretation, history. We have discovered in our roots that religious leadership has all along been for the sake of finding out What God hopes not only in us and but also, emphatically, in our lifeworld. Yet we are severely challenged, even daunted, by the thought of finding what 852 Review for Religious God wants, because of several failures. The most operative at pre-sent is the church's failure to proclaim an adequate theology of creation, a failure John Courtney Murray identified in The Problem of God forty years ago. Our only dogma about creation affirms that God directly creates the human soul, insinuating that God does not directly create any other creature. We conceive of cre-ation as happening in the past: "Who made me? God made me." A long time ago; the Big Bang.5 This absent Creator proves a grave failure: For the earth--we tear it up since God has left it merely to us.6 For humankind--we do not know God passionately, momently, creating us and our lifeworld in all con-creteness. Even for many Christians, God is the watchmaker God of the Enlightenment rationalists. For us reli-gious- what is the point of "discernment" beyond trying to find out how I feel, if I know no God busily working in all things, me included? A more adequate theology of creation is rising from the personal experi-ence of God in consecrated life, for in our contemplation we come to know God's pas-sionate hopes in the world, not as abstract ideas, but as our own authentic, concrete desires. In this pursuit of God's hoping, leader-ship at the end of the millennium achieves two things. First we have been doing well: Leadership now listens openly and deeply, bravely and discerningly, to the desiring and dreaming of every member of a congrega-tion. Secondly, we have not been doing so We have discovered in our roots that religious leadership has all along been for the sake of finding out what God hopes not only in us and but also, emphatically, in our lifeworld. well: Leadership identifies among all those desires and dreams the charism, mission, and identity of the congregation. Leadership in the new millennium, then, will draw companions to grow in their charism, solicit them to set aside all self-deception, and even invite them to die to many good hopes and individual dreams. Leadership, therefore, is not just for community, the holy bond-ing of those who seek God. It is also for communion, the mutual strengthening of those who courageously enact God's hopes in the world. November-Decentber 1995 853 Tetlow ¯ From Useful Instruments to Willing Agents My remarks fall into five sections: 1. from power to author-ity; 2. from submission to discernment; 3. from God's plan to God's project; 4. from instruments to agents; 5. from community to communion. 1. From Leadership of Power to Leadership of Authority Father provincial wanted Robert Drinan to believe that wisdom lay in resigning from Congress and that his submission would promote holiness. Father Drinan publicly expressed his hope that God wished him to do something else and better, and said no I do not contest this decision, or any more recent ones like it. I recall it only to point out that this was governance by power, a governance which is needed in occasional crises. The problem has been its seeping into everyday governance. "The eternal dream of power," in Roberto Mangabeira Unger's dictum, "is to rule by a reverential fear that systematically confuses prudence and piety as motives for obedience" (p. 107). In preconciliar days, prudence urged acquiescing to a higher wisdom; piety urged submission in humility. These are not good motives for obeying, and power is not now (if it ever was) a safe mode of command in religious life. With today's communications and mobility, power, like enor-mously high voltage, easily destroys, as it did in the uneven con-test between the Roman Congregation of Religious and the vital IHM Sisters of California in the late 1960s. Power is the ability so to determine a lifeworld that those under the power will have to do what they are told whether they want to or not. As long as twentieth-century modernism endured--inexorable progress, certitude, universal judgments, relentless control--the church governed consecrated life in the mode of power. Modernism survived in the American Catholic church right through Vatican II.7 In our confidence that we knew--the power of the keys and of the philosophia perennis--we divided all things into three: God, humankind, and creatures. Eucharistic Canon Four reads: "You have created humankind and set us over all creatures." Nor "all other creatures." In that modern church, the function of leadership was to declare the will of God. As it happened, this will of God coin-cided neatly in most cases with church order and with the press- 854 Review for Religious ing needs of Catholic immigrants in a Protestant nation. The function of subjects was to submit to command: Teach sixth grade, work the neonatal ward, move to another house, resign from Congress. Our submission itself was virtue, a good and holy thing. At the same time, Donald Gelpi argued a generation ago, "sub-mission of one's will to a superior [was] subtly transformed from a means into an end in itself.''8 Modernism is now fading and its imperatives--progress, cer-titude, universal truth, control--have become hollow cries in a dark alley. Postmodernism now spreads everywhere and its imper-atives- information processing, flexible specialization, informed cooperation, and pluralism--are giving shape to even emerging societies and they are re-forming leadership.9 Those of us in consecrated life, where the shift is a generation old, already.know this post-modernism and its shift in leadership style. Women like Mercy Sister Elizabeth Carroll and BViVl Ann Ida Gannon, and men like Benedictine Rembert Weakland and Franciscan Regis Armstrong decided that authority is given (in Gannon's bold phrase) "for the service of [their] fellow religious."~° They learned to be servant-leaders. Servant leadership is gover-nance by authority. Authority, which humankind always needs, is the ability so to arrange a lifeworld that those served by authority want to follow its decisions. Fully exercised, leadership by authority has rediscovered the authority of every individual. For in its root meanings--the .Latin noun auc-tot and the verb augere--authority names a human person's self-actualization and growth from within. Centuries ago we could say this clearly, as in the Jesuit Constitution: "Thus it is that from the general as the head flows all the authority of the provincials, and from the provincials that of the local superiors, and from that of these local superiors that of the individual members." That authority "of the individual member" had been honored in eremitic wisdom and monastic rules, and it was even honored in nineteenth-century congrega-tions, but throughout in a hierarchic concept of creation, as in the constitution just cited. Power is the ability so to determine a lifeworld that those under the power will have to do what they are told whether they want to or not. November-December 199Y 855 Tetlow ¯ From Useful Instruments to Willing Agents We can no longer imagine hierarchically; our imagination depicts reality as organic, evolutionary, and democratic. We once again hear all other creatures "speak to us in their own right," requiring us to author a green, peaceful, shared earth for God's sake.~1 Our task now is to locate the authority of each individual within community. This is the move from power to authority; with it comes the second shift. 2. From Submission to Discernment t~VM Sister Ann Ida Gannon, suffering in fidl habit in midJune in St. Louis in 1966, read her paper on leadership to the Institute on Religious Life in the Modern World, which the New York Times called a "pioneering attempt." She spoke of "accidentals and essentials" of religious life, but not philosophically, though she couhl have; she spoke fi'om experience, her own and other sis-ters'. On that hot day, she was breaking the ground of discern- ~lent. In the first half of this century, leadership in religion pre-supposed "a model of human coexistence that saw power, Leadership of authority presupposes a model of human coexistence that sees all personal encounters as mutual self-expression reaching toward self- transcendence and community. exchange, and communal allegiance as naturally and properly merged in the same personal encounters" (Unger, p. 177). The superior gave a command, and the subject gave obe-dience; they exchanged protection and loyalty; both swelled with alle-giance to the institute. This was leadership of power with its correl-ative, submission. Leadership of authority presup-poses a model of human coexistence that sees all personal encounters as mutual self-expression reaching toward self-transcendence and com-munity. The model is still taking form in a socioeconomic order of remarkable instability. It has provoked destabilizing changes in consecrated life; I mention two as particularly pertinent to trans-formed leadership. First, religious are now blessed with learning, something which was not always the case. Remember the Sister Formation 856 Review for Religious Program in the fifties, and think of the number among us now who hold graduate degrees. That fact ranks us with the privileged class. The main class division in our nation today is caused by the deep chasm between those who have learning and those who have not, between those who can keep on learning and those who cannot. Our efforts therefore embody the self-donation of the privileged for the not-privileged. Yet--here is the second destabilizing change--in an odd inver-sion, we also belong to the laboring classes. The reason is that we have to keep on learning: for our lifeworld, how gracefully and intelligently to erode the "violence and vacuity that charac-terizes the modern relation to reality"'2; for our communities, how to deconstruct and reconstruct our own charisms. Hence, we belong to the new "laboring class," for as labor historian Shoshana Zuboff has said, the labor of our day is learning. Why are these important to leadership? Power could instruct subjects on God's will (recall: we knew); authority has to search for it. As Donald Gelpi wrote prophetically in 1966: The authority of the superior appears, not as a species of extrinsic divine sanction which automatically transforms [the superior's] will into the objective norm of [the] sub-ject's perfection, but rather as a necessary and providential means whereby superior and subject are enabled to coordi-nate their efforts in pursuit of a concrete apostolic end to which they commonly aspire (p. 84). Authority, then, requires both having and searching for com-mon apostolic aims. In the ruckus of Catholic American life, how do we come to common apostolic aims and purposes? We have learned to call the process discernment. It means a great many things in different congregations, but it has common elements.'3 Discernment begins and continues through mutual listening. It succeeds among those who maintain the necessary conditions of a discerning heart, for as Roberto Mangabeira Unger writes, we know both from human history "and in our own intro-spective experience., that our predispositions and longings may be as misguided as our ideas.''~4 Discernment ends, consequently, for all of us, not in certitude about "God's will," but in hopeful enactment of God's hopes. So we have moved from submission to discernment. It is a risky enterprise, reminding me of a tombstone in Brooklyn: across the top, "Never sick a day in my life" and in the middle, "Now Noventber-Decen*ber 1995 857 Tetlow ¯ From Useful Instruments to Willing Agents this." If leaders cannot give absolute commands in God's name, where in God's name is God's will? 3. From God's Plan to God's Project "I don't think you should be dean," the older Jesuit told Joe Tetlow in 1969 as they drank coffee the morning aJ~er his appoint~nent. "You wear a tie. If you can ignore God's will that way, what will you do to the school?" As this millennium ends, the West is caught in a crisis of authority and a crisis of community. About authority: ¼7e must talk, Hannah Arendt once said, not about what authority is but about what it used to be. Americans (like all peoples) have wit-nessed authority incessantly prostituted in this century: a sev-enty- five-years' war, not over yet perhaps; seventy-odd democratic revolutions decayed into tyranny; noble-seeming ideologies yield-ing bitter fruit in torture and genocide. We are unnerved as sec-ularist humanism, dominant for half a century, unravels, and middle-mind Aanerica renounces its brief trial of the belief that "all goods which are not anchored in human powers or fulfillments are illusions from a bygone age.''~s Americans are back to angels, death, and other fundamentals, and we do not know what author-ity is or can be. We Catholics also have to talk about what authority once was; we lost the propositional certitude of dogmatic theology and immemorial patterns of praxis. [Historian John Padberg SJ loves to say, "I knew all this would happen the day they made us take off the maniple."] We still feel the scorching conflicts that whooshed in through good Pope John's opened windows; and now we suffer dark confusions as the church's European captivity draws to its end. One victim of these many shifts is what our gr~at-grand-fore-bears called "God's will." It meant a great deal to them: a fixed and infinite plan for the cosmos, an almighty God, transcending time and dwarfing human wisdom. Our forebears perceived God's plan in terms of neoscholastic essences and imperatives, which of course remained eternally the same; hence, the Roman collar and the wimple were nonnegotiable parts of the essence of religious life, as my old priest friend felt. And bells, cloisters, prayers, all "God's will." In the American Catholicism at this end of this century

Issue 29.2 of the Review for Religious, 1970. ; ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard. S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to -Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 32~ Willings Alley;,Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9~o6. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis. Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and cop':'rlgi~t ~) 1970 by R~-:w~-:\v at 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Mary-land 21202. Printed in U.S,A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, Maryland and at additional mailing ot~ces. Single copies: $1.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two years; other countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should b~ accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REVIEW FOR RI~LIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to p~rsons Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions, where a¢com. panied by a remittance, should be sent to R£VlI~W ~on Rtt.tetous; P, O. Box 671; Baltimore, Maryland 21203, Changes of address, busine~ correspondence, and orders not accompanied by a remittance should be sent to R£vl~w R~I~o~s ; 42B East Preslon ~treet; Balfimo~, Mawland 21202. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and ~oks for review should be sen~ ~o R~v~w roa R~mvs; 612 Hum~ldt Building; 539 North Grand ~ulevard Saint ~ouis, Mi~ouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address the ~u~fioas and ~we~ ~itor. MARCH 1970 VOLUME 29 NUMBER 2 Meditative Description of the Gospel Counsels Introductory Statement" Framed* in words and concepts Iamiliar to the last third o[ the twentieth century, this meditative descrip-tion oI the vows accents the pgetic nature of religious li[e: the "more than" dimension to a faith-existence; the contemplative, "'being" aspect oI religious consecration; the "useless" character o] anything which is an art, any-thing which is beautiIul. RELIGIOUS VOWS We share the richness of the lived experience of vowed commitment, as an institute and as individual members. Because of the radical and rapid changes occurring in society, we are called upon to re-think and re-articulate the meaning and purpose of religious consecration in today's world. It is a fact that we are now living our promises differently; therefore, there is a present need to speak of them differently. Today, more than ever, we need a positive explana-tion of the vows. Renunciation and detachment will always he valid and essential elements of this radical, total commitment. However, we must presently seek greater understanding of the YES aspect--the CHOICE OF LIFE. A spotlight on religious communities should reveal real people who live fully, love deeply, give totally, and enjoy life immensely. The three vows of consecrated celibacy, poverty, and obedience manifest the centrality of commitment to Christ in community. All three vows are facets of this ¯ This-meditative essay on the counsels was written at the request of the special general chapter of the Sisters of Mercy of the Union in the United States. Four sisters o~ the Union cooperated in writing the essay: Sister M. Catherine Daly, R.S.M.; Sister Patricia Smith, R.S.M.; Sister Marjorie Bosse, R.S.M.; and Sister M. Evangeline McSloy, R.S.M. The essay is printed in the R~v~w through the kindness of the superior general o[ the Union, Sister Mary Regina Cunningham, R.S.M.; Sisters of Mercy Generalate; I0000 Kentsdale Drive; P.O. Box 34446, Bethesda Post Office; Washington, D.C. 20034. + + ÷ The Counsels VOLUME 2~ 1970 193 The Coimsei~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 194: same reality. They are means to unity---community-- with God and with one another. Our vows can open us to all reality and, at the same time, help us to transcend, to .go beyond persons--to Person. CONSECRATED CELIBACY Chri~to~entric in inspiration and in direction, con-secrated celibacy, like all Christian values, has many dimensions. It is community-oriented, gift, faith-grounded, directed to the work of Christ, sign of what creation is and is called to be. In today's function-cen-tered, production-conscious society, the "waste" of celibate living signs to the absolute worth of the human person, to the being (as distinct from the doing) of man. Practica~ly and theologically, the celibate should be the universal pilgrim--moving on, challenging, opening up .narrowness, questioning preconceptions and vested interests. The religious, supported in her celibate com-mitment through community, signs beyond herself to the possibility of community. CONSECRATED CELIBACY is a free gift, a charism to be like Jesus Christ-- motivated by love [rom and for God to give undivided attention to the things of the Lord (I Cor 7:35) and to share in realizing God's kingdom. The celibate woman is sustained in faith because of God's promise to be ever faithful (Jr 31:33, 1 Pt 2:10; and so forth), experienced and nurtured in the dying-rising of the Paschal nlystery, trusting that there is a "more than" dimension to human life, to all reality. In her being and doing, the celibate stands as a sign of , God's love and active presence. By her being, she signs a~ a pledge, promise of harvest, hope (Key 14:4-5) to the proclamation of God's primacy in creation, to the reign of God as absolute, creative, fulfilling in her life, to the "already but not yet" tension between Christ'S first and final cosmic victory, to God's power in human weakness. Her consecration of her entire person to God, over and above any functional value she may offer, signs to the absolute worth of the human person in a tech-nological, bureaucratic world as a challenge to the priorities of that world. By her doing, she moves as pilgrim dynamically resdess, challenging preconceptions of ~'normality," the defini-tion of what it is to be human, and what it is to love humanly-- stepping in faith beyond the immediate to the uni-versal, signing to the personal, non-exclusive, non-possessive, and growth-giving love of God ¯ Bound to no one small circle, as Gospel woman ~he lives the Good News of Jesus Christ calling the whole human race, challenging any idol-atry of a particular nation, culture, religion, and so forth, free (and freeing others) for servi~ce, availability, heal-ing. Her use of her body signs that woman's sexuality is to be dedicated to many things; that to be woman is to be sensitive, kind, to speak truth, to share an interpersonal love . The celibate religious woman lives in a community built not on blood ties, ~ ~ but on a mutual drawing of person to person, and persons to Person, on ties of shared faith in divine power (Lk 1:49), shared vision of all that creation, under the Lordship of Christ, can be, shared support in her commitment to celibate lovingm witnessing to the possibilit~ of unity in a cosmos where men are searching to be one. VOWED POVERTY Christian history from its earliest beginning to the present day holds poverty to be a necessary part of the ~u'isdan life. It is a living out of the Gospel message: a genuine pilgrim people, humble and serving. Today more than ever before, however, poverty needs to be un-derstood in this true Christocentered approach. The "poor of Yahweh" must be grasped before visible ways of witnessing to poverty will be found. No longer can legislative interpretations be the guide to sharing in the poverty of Christ. P, eligious are living poverty differ-ently today and need to give expression to it in a whole new style of life---in a whole new manner of being; and of giving and sharing. The following statement is a simple meditative ap-proach to poverty which may hopefully stimulate a con-temporary thrust toward a creative reality of poverty in the lives of religious women vowed to poverty. The Counsels REVIEW FOR,RELIGIOUS 196 POVERTY is a dynamic human attitude toward life uniquely personal in expression seeking less to have than to be, and, in being to give expressing, personally and communally, a deep rever-ence for persons and things. Living in the manner of Jesus Christ, one vowed to. poverty accepts her total condition empties herself (Ph 2:1-I 1) seeks out the neighbors in need, using her gifts to serve them works in the same condition as people work today-- for a living. The woman truly poor, strives through her promise to trust fully in God as provider of all, even of life itself (Mr 6:25-34) to live without the assurance of tomorrow, in the glad-ness of today to accept humbly whatever God calls her to, to free herself of all unfreedoms, that she may share her person to offer all: voice to speak hands to touch~ heart to love openhandedly, to God's people through community In community, one vowed to poverty shares in the work of Christ: building the kingdom in an effort to affect more just distribution of wealth in personal responsibility for being collectively poor in the fruits of ordered minimalness: peace, joy in the present; hope, faith for the future In community of mercy, those vowed stand together corporately committed to simplicity of life possessing only to serve as a public sign before the world of Christ's all-sharing love stewards of the Master's goods held in trust-- feeding thepoor healing the sick teaching the uneducated visiting the needy, and so forth-- conscious that all things are theirs, that they are Christ's that Christ is God's (1 Cor 3:23) RELIGIOUS OBEDIENCE This description of obedience attempts to penetrate the meaning of an attitude much praised in Scripture: attentiveness to" God and readiness to do His will. Such an attitude is characteristic of the person who seeks out the ultimate meanings o[ things and goes beyond limita-tions: the person who lives by faith. This kind of person seems quite welcome in our contemporary world, par-adoxical though this might seem, agonized as this world might be over its own failures to promote human life, despite its marvelous successes in science and technol-ogy., athirst as it might be for those ultimates, those "beyonds" that give real meaning to life. OBEDIENCE is the power to seek out, to listen, and to hear the will of God. and the responsiveness, the readihess, to do it. Christians seek God's will in the leading of the Spirit speaking in the Christian community (Jn 1:29-51) Christ promised that the Father would send. "the Paradete, the Spirit of truth" (Jn 16:7-15) And they try to live as He did, whose very food was "to do the will of the Father" (Jn 4:80-8; 6) Religious vow to look for the Spirit,s promptings, and to do God's will with that community in which they have given them-selves, sure in faith that God will reveal His will among them, through the initiative and submission of all of them. through their personal struggles and mutual efforts to keep open to the truth in each one, accepting, appreciating, rejoicing in the different gifts among them, sure in faith, that He will make His will known ac-cording to role and need. Religious in positions of authority try to discern God's will by actively using all channels. It is a new insight on an old truth that the one governing is most in need. of the power to Obey. to listen., to hear. The call to leadership is a call to unify. Religious today realize anew, as did God's people in the Old Testament, that the Spirit speaks to the whole humart family through other signs, the "signs of the times": conditions, like afttuence and poverty, awareness of human dignity, racial tensions; events, like flights to the moon, assassinations and crime, team-work, celebrations, protests and dis-discoveries; people, like Eichmann and Ghandi, John Kennedy + + ÷ The Counsels VOLUME 2% 1970 and Martin Luther King, Jr., Dag'Hammarskjold, Dorothy Day, Jolm the XXlII, Darwin, Einstein, and Marx. PARADOXICALLY, The person who is growing in genuine obedience ~ 'becomes more and more humanly free (He who loses His life shall find it, Mt 10:39) Such a person becomes more and more attuned to the transcendent, alive to community, available for service, responding always anew ("God, here I aml I am coming to obey your will,'" Hb 10:7) + ÷ + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS GENERAL CONCLUSION The basic affirmation of Christian life: that God is our end, that all else is means, lies at the core of our under-standing of the vows. Ways of channeling our baptismal commitment, they proclaim publicly a choice of avail-ability, service. They point toward possibilities---of hu-man commitment, enduring fidelity, growth in process, becoming. They speak of and call us to live---a mystery. RELIGIOUS VOWS are means, signs of a personal choice: a commitment in faith to the God who is both among and beyond His people; a life orientation toward possibilities fo~ human actualization and for apostolic service; a radical attempt to incarnate the gospel message by living like Jesus Christ. Framed in terms of covenant, the vows intensify the God-man covenant made at baptism; acknowledge God's greatest gift--that He first loved us in Jesus Christ; express a human response to that gift; include the covenant relationship between God and the person, the person and her community. Public in nature, ecclesial in character, religious vows boldly proclaim as a "splendid and striking witness": a stance of constant presence before God, constant openness to the Holy in human life; an attitude of constant striving for more total avail-ability to God and to His people; gratitude for the mercy continually received from God through His people; communal commitment to the kingdom and to its com-ing. In a cosmos and among men viewed in terms of "proc-ess," religious vows attempt to express certain hu-man possibilities: of total self-giving, both in being and be~:oming; of fidelity amid change; of commitment not sterilely binding but creative; of growing in oneness in a fragmented so(Jety; of living mystery, in and through the Spirit, in a prob-lem- solving world. VOLUME 2% 1970 199, SISTER MARY FINN "Live--Do Not Be Overtaken by Death" ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Mary Finn of the Home Visi-tors of Mary lives at 356 Arden Park; Detroit, Michigan 48202. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS I spend my evenings in an abandoned store a few blocks from our home in Detroit. The store is in the black community and is opened as a center for teenage boys. Last Spring we placed in the window a large pic-ture of the Black Christ. Invariabl~ every young man who stops and stands before the picture and looks--even for an instant--straightens up, puts his shoulders back, and stands tall. What loftiness is stirred whenever a man is faced and inspired and called beyond himself by an-otherl Great spirit and dignity and grace rise up when-ever a man stands before life. In looking up to this beau-tiful Black Christ young men are meeting the One who says: "I come that you may have life--more abun-dantly." A word today for someone who has life is "soul." When a black teenage dropout exclaims "Jesus has soul, man," he means very reverently what the Gospel means when Matthew says: "Jesus was led by the Spirit," or "Jesus is the way, the truth, the life," or "Jesus came that we might find life." Is there anything the ghetto searches for more than life? Anything the affluent, the student, the addict is more desperate for--than life? Our entire culture is hungry for life. Death prevails and abounds all around. We are men and women enclosed in a machine-centered world; encapsulated by professionalism and technology and humanitarianism; asphyxiated by accumulation of things and manipulation for power and craving for pleasure. Where does a man turn for life? What are the alternatives? Who are the sources of life in a technolog-ical culture? Religious are a people consecrated--really consecrated --to life in the midst of death. If ever our American culture needed religious people and institutions it is now --to show the individuals and institutions of our society that there really is an alternative to death., specifi-cally death.by-power, and death-by-wealth, and death- .by-pleasure. The alternative to dea.th-by-wealth is my vowed life of poverty. The alternative to death-by-power is my vowed life of obedience. The alternative to death-by- pleasure is my vowed, life of celibacy. This is the glory of religious life--that in ~/day when man is seduced unto death there are men and women and institutions consecrated to life. The glory of religious life is to bring men and institutions to LIFE. There are people in the world with a profound sense of life and people in the world with a deprived sense of life---life lovers and death lovers; people who lift up and people who cast down. I am a strange mixture of both. There is the death lover in me and the life lover in me: Reality is almost always experienced in the form of people, things, events. The death lover in me is fasci-nated by what is lifeless. I am scared and frightened by the wonder and mystery of life; so to protect myself from living I have all sorts of ways of exploiting people. The death lover in me handles people, manipulates them, disposes of people mechanically. I crave my own suc-cess and safety and will suppress a person who threatens me.The "music teacher" in Death at an Early Age is so threatened by the life, the artistry of 6th graders that she finds multiple ways to protect herself from life--to the point of kindly:killing creativity in the chil-dren. She squeezes the life out of one child, then another, and another, and finally brings about their death and the institution's death--all for her own safety. Only when she feels successful and becomes "master" of the child and has the child "under her control"--only then can she "praise" him. She literally kills the child; she desecrates life, snuffs inner life right out of a youngster because she herself is so deathly afraid of life. The death lover can't possibly be celibate with people because death-centeredness is violent and irreverent with life and to be celibate means to revere life--to initiate, foster, sustain life in a wonderful varie, ty 0f ways. This is'how the death-lover in me relates to people. Toward things the death lover in me is possessive. I ollect,~,hoard, and secure every little creature I desire, I'm threatened by what .I'm unable to possess and up-tight and" upset when. my "things" are slightly out of order. The woman in the Old Testament, who falsely claims to be mother of the child, is typical of the pos-sessiveness of the death lover. She prefers a properly divided dead child than to allow, the true mother pos-session of her living child. The,death lover can't possibly be poor because poverty VOLUME 29, 1970 ,REVIEW FOR REL[G[OUS 20~ is freedom from domination by things and liberation from enslavement to things. The death lover in me is possessed and "run by dead things." Toward events the death lover in me is fearful and forceful. I am dominated by a compulsion to control and master; power-hungry. My supreme values are power and order and having the situation under control--so well under control there is no room for variety or growth or spontaneity. The death lover in me runs the world like a great big machine. The death lover can't possibly obey because obedience means to listen and be responsive and available to the voice of life all around me. There is also the life lover in me, and the life loving me has special attitudes toward reality. As life lover I have a profound reverence for life--for people, th!ngs, events. I experience people with great joy and have a sense and belief in their almost unbelievable and won-derful individuality. For the life lover, every person is a special presence to be encouraged and brought more and more deeply to life. The death lover in me makes the individuality and uniqueness of the other a target--to be picked at and shot down. There is a lot of the sniper in the death lover. The life lover has a profound rev-erence for the life and specialness and individuality of the other, and when the other appears as unique the life lover in me becomes even more alive by coming to the support of the other who is being born in a new way. I foster and nourish the individuality of the other to be-come even more herself--more unique and individual. The death lover in me is scared and frightened and threatened by the specialness of the other so I become insecure with my own individuality. The life lover in me admires and promotes the specialness of the other and is at home and responsible for both the extensions and limitations of my own individuality. The attitude of reverence for my own individuality and the specialness of the other person is beautifully ex-perienced and expressed and sustained by vowed celi-bacy. My celibacy is an alternative to death-by-pleasure; a fundamental reverence for people--my own self and the self of other people. To be truly celibate means to be touched by life, to be brought alive by the uniqueness of the other and to bring others alive by my own unique-ness. To be celibate means to be a lively individual. It means I pulsate with vitality and generate an abiding attitude of personal and interpersonal reverence. The celibate in me is the great lover of life--re-creating life all around by my own wholehearted presence to life. Celibacy has a great lifting power. ToXbe celibate means not only to be at home with my cwn individuality and the individuality of the other, but to be creative even in unveiling the individuality of myself and the other. It means providing the truest con-ditions for unfolding life and immediately and ulti-mately manifesting the Lord Jesus. To be celibate has a lot to do with privacy and with being alone. Celibacy means I am able to be alone and to bring Out the individuality of the other who is alone. I feel my aloneness from my friend much more deeply than my aloneness from people less near, but if I really mean it when I say I respect the individuality of the other than I am able to "leave the other alone"--not to tamper or handle or seduce the other. My sense of alone-ness is an awesome sense of life and vibrancy, but in it I have moments of feeling my tendency to "prove" or "test" the closeness of the other to me. As soon as I do this--as soon as I try and touch and overhandle the intimacy of the other or overexpose my own intimacy --then I violate and betray my celibacy, and life disinte-grates- like a bubble. Being celibate and intimate with the other is more like two open hands cradling sand than clutching sand in my closed fist. Christ went about touching people--but what a difference in His touch and mine. Christ never touched anyone for His own sake-- to prove or test anything for Himself. He touched people only for the sake of their growth and life--for the sake of the Lord God. My sense of aloneness is a supreme moment of celibacy because it places me in an awesome experience of being born and coming to life. My celibacy is both a separation from "death" and communion with new life. As a life lover I also have a rather special experience of things. A great and wonderful multitude of things appear in my daily life: the things of technology--water that refreshes, clothes that adorn, vehicles that trans-port, gadgets that facilitate, books that illuminate; and all the wonderful things of nature--the enduring of a mountain, calm of a sunset, strength of water, grace of a flower, splendor of a leaf, gentleness of a meadow, free-dom of a bird. When things become more and more ap-pealing and plentiful and available the death lover in me looks and grabs and clutches. With some things I be-come overinvolved, infatuated, indiscriminate, cluttered. With other things I am cold, passive, uncaring, reckless. The life lover in me has a profound reverence for things and relates to them as a source of life and inspiration and celebration. The attitude of reverence and gratitude and joy for the gift of things is beautifully expressed and sustained by vowed poverty. My poverty is an alternative to death-by-possessiveness. Fundamentally poverty is reverence for things. To be poor in spirit VOLUME 4. 4. 4. $ist~,~ Ma~ Finn REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 204 is to be treed and serene and gra.ceful in the presence or absence of things. This experience of poverty redeems me from death, frees me trom domination by things, liberates me from enslavement to things. Poverty heals the break and rupture between myself and my posses-sions and restdres me and gives me a sense of wholeness and unity and harmony. The life lover in me has vision that penetrates and goes beyond the surface of things and enters into a communion with the inner meaning and life of things. Especially in a technological world this lively, delight-ful, restful relationship with things is not often found. It is fashionable to have and collect useful things, but not so fashionable to enter into the deepest meaning of things. To really commune with the heart of a. thing means I must take a kind of distance from its im-mediate usefulness. I can't rejoice when I look upon things too closely. Closeness in this sense suggests at-tachment and possessiveness. Possessiveness fills me with anxiety. Anxiety confines my spirit and ties me to the outer, superficial layer of the thing. When I stand back and am detached from the thing, then I become un-cluttered, unencumbered, and free to enter into the heart and mystery of the thing. It's when I come to the heart of the thing--to the center and the mystery of what the thing is--that I come to the moment of free and fruitful enjoyment. My poverty releases my spirit and my spirit breaks forth. I enter into and transform and bring to life whatever thing I touch. My poverty draws man toward great and abundant joy in things through detachment and reverence. Besides people and things reality is encountered in the form of events. The lover of life experiences events with a loose, playful, graceful spirit. We are confronted with all sorts of events---everyday. Events of nature: a storm, headache, double chin, expanding waisdine, gray hair. And we are confronted with the wonderful and fearful events of culture: change and growth and decay; and power and militancy and reactionary, traditional-ism; institutions and structures and systems. The death lover in me stands before events of change and growth, for example, with fear and suspicion--somewhat cold and calculating, overcautious and hesitant. When I move I move to control and enforce and restrain and master. For this I have need of power so I invoke "law and order." The death lover stands before events with a sense of fate and despondency. The life ldver is called to newer and greater and more profound life. by events of culture and nature. The profound reverence the life lover experiences for events is beautifully manifested by. vowed obedience and is a very precise alternative to death-by-power. Obedience means, fundamentally, .my reverence for events. Obedience means I am in communion with the deepest and most hidden and secret meaning of events-by listening. To obey means to quietly discover and listen to a secret. When I listen to reality I am born, raised up, and brought to life. Not drugs or inter-personal dynamics--but obedience--expands my con-sciousness, extends my horizons, uncovers my depths, brighten my vision, enables me to stand tall. When I listen to the mystery at the heart of a cultural or natural event I come into touch with myself at a new level, with the secret at the heart of the event itself, and ultimately and finally into touch and consciousness of the Lord Godmpresent and acting somewhere and somehow in the event. Each event then--when I am a lover of life--each event is a sacred event; a salvific event; redemptive. There is no event, no change or in-stitution or structure or sickness that is unholy. An event is not unholy. Unholiness is when I enter into an event in an unwhole or death centered manner. The obedient person is so much in love with life that she consecrates herself, vows to listen to the deepest voice of life all around her. She submits herself to the voice of reality in her culture and in nature in order to foster unity and reverence and serenity in the world. This listening experience of obedience is altogether different ~om the controlling experience. Listening is expecting.Controlling is handlingmtill there isn't any life left.' Neither of these attitudes toward reality comes in a pure form. In other words, the pure form of death lover or life lover is rare. The pure death .lover is insane. The pure life lover is a saint. Most of us average people are a blend. What matters is that I know and am aware and discerning of both movements within myself. Becauge of the profound need in our culture, and for the preservation and enrichment of the truest values of the society itself, and especially by the very real but simply unexplainable mystery of God calling me and touching my life in the way He does--I am one whose way is meant to be an alternative. I am consecrated to life in the midst of death, poverty in the midst of plenty, celibacy in the midst of pleasure, obedience in the midst of power. This is my call. It is a profoundly personal experience of the living God forever calling me to abundant life, forever faithful to me. I cannot ex-plain my call to another. I am able to describe some moments of it--but never explain it. It is mystery. I can only live it. The deepest moments of life are always born and unfold in mystery. But forever, somewhere in VOLUME 29, 1970 ÷ ÷ ÷ RL~VIE'~ FOR RELIGIOUS 2O6 my heart, I know well I am called by One who is faith-ful. His call to me is enduring. I experience His fidcli:.y as well and as really as my own infidelity. I may repress my call, cover it up, run from it, hide--but forever it is my experience to be called to center my life prhnarily and consistently around the living God. In fai,h and quiet readiness and humble awareness I am able to do this. In a predominantly technological and function cen-tered culture my religious life, then, individually and institutionally, is a radical departure from the system and the establishment and superficial values and struc-tures. "Radical" means "deep within" not "way out." Religious life is truly radical. By centering life (in this machine and man centered world) primarily and con-sistently around the Lord I take a radical stand toward reality. A function centered culture has its special at-titude toward reality. It prizes and gives priority to pos-sessing things, pleasing people, controlling events. To live in the midst of things with an attitude of poverty, and in the midst of people with an attitude of celibacy, and in the midst of events with an attitude of listening says in a radical way to the members and institutions of my function centered culture that there is another way, that there is an alternative. The religious is the alternative. She offers love of life as an alternative to death centeredness and ultimate religious meanings as an alternative to superficial and' peripheral meanings, and releases the Spirit as an alter-native to fixation on the material: God centeredness as an alternative to the merely humanitarian. This life may actually appear a bit too radical, too threatening for a culture so permeated and centered around values of possessing things, pleasing people, and controlling situations, and consequently may draw a kind of ridicule. The culture may do to us what we find our-selves doing to whatever we can't cope with. We either don't see it or we ridicule it. When this happens it be-comes quite difficult for certain personalities to remain available and receptive to the mystery of poverty, celi-bacy, obedience. They want to "rename" the experience something else, or explain away the mystery of religious living, or so rationalize their life that they become un-able to remain faithful. I may be tempted to question my call and to shift m~t centeredness to what is super-ficial and peripheral. To go on living, however, and to become the gracious recipient of misunderstanding and ridicule bestowed by a function centered culture--to be chastened and purified and to endure the ambiguity of it all--this is the "price" as Kierkegaard says of "willing one thing." The One Thing---or the One the religious wills is Christ Jesus. I make my willingness explicit by my vowed reverence for reality, and this very reverence is a profound alternative to the death and violence that thread through a culture where values are primarily and consistently functional. Religious community is a beautiful means of fostering and sustaining, religious centered life and discovering and manifesting the most radical and religious mean-ings of life. Religious community is radically different £rom other kinds of community just as religious centered living is radically different from function centered living. Reli-gious community is "where" religious life and centered-ness are born and sustained and enriched. Religious community is where we provide a home for each other and room for each one to be a special individual, where we joyfully engage ourselves in Christ's life and call each other to life and urge each other to go through the Pass-over togethermthe ultimate experience of life. Religious community is where we transform the life and attitudes, where we "expand the consciousness" of each other, where we are purified and healed and transfigured, where we enable each other to live as uniquely and fully as possible. Religious community is where each of us is marvelously engaged in telling one another the good news, inspiring each other to uncover the living God dwelling in her own heart, calling one another to un-cover her religious heart by her own special presence, encouraging one another to be a special individual and to share with each one in a grand variety of ways one's own special religious experience. Being together in religious community is being together in Christ. Christ is the center of our religious life, so together we initiate, form, and sustain a Christ centered life. We speak to each other by our religious living together: "Keep in mind Jesus Christ." In religious community there are all sorts of room for tremendous diversity--diversity of personality, inclina-tions, cultures, races, expectations, ages. Wonderful unity is born out of this diversity. Religious community is a heartfelt experience of Christ initiating and accomplishing redemption in me. I need His touch of redemption in my doublemindedness and indecisive conformity to peripheral values. I am inclined to betray life, to shift from religious to less ul-timate and radical living. But in religious community my sisters urge me out of darkness and death and sus-tain me in light and life. This fills me with a sense of joy and enables me to speak my courageous "yes" to live life religiously, to unfold my attitudes of expectancy and enthusiasm for life, my roominess and fxiendliness, VOLUME 29, 1970 207 ÷ 4- ÷ REVIEW FOR REL;GIOUS 208 my pioneering and prophetic spirit. Religi6us commu-nity gives my spirit direction, inspires me to face God and my sister and fellow man as an individual of great peace and inner unity and decisiveness to life whole-heartedly. My sisters call me toward the Unknown. They name me "sister" and ask me to share with them--not just what is external, but the hidden treasures of my heart. I need their light to quicken my desires and their help to form my consciousness and their inspiration that I may be graced with the ability to leave life alone and not overhandle and extinguish the breath of any living spirit. Religious community is where I make a home for my sisters and communicate to them the radical and ulti-mate meaning of life and my own radical consecration and identity. Religious community is life centered but not the center of life. When the community is actually religious the Lord God is our one Center. Community is a means of initiating, forming, and sustaining our God centered life. The purpose of religious community is to speak "Father, . Son," "Spirit"--to say to each participant: "K, eep in mind Jesus Christ; keep in mind your life center." If the community "says" anythingelse it is not religious community. If the community claims to be religious but in reality says: "I am the center of life," it lies and cheats and creates confusion and becomes more dead than alive. Religious community is reaIly meant to say--very simplyPto all its members: "Pray"; "be holy"; "be alive to the call of God in Christ jesus." Members of our culture who feel the call to live more radically--artists and students and black people-- look all about them for alternatives. When they look toward the establishment they see power, greed, pleasure. What are the alternatives? Where are they? Or rather-- who are the alternatives? The celibate me is a radical alternative to a. passion centered and pleasure centered culture. The poor me is a radical alternative to a pos-session centered culture. The listening, obedient me. is a radical alternative to a power centered culture. I betray the brightest, most creative and sensitive and radical people of my culture when I betray my poverty and replace it with preoccupation and fascina-tion with budgeting, clothing, entertainment, traveling. I betray these same people when I replace my obedience and creative listening with a preoccupation and fascina-tion for management, control, manipulation, domina-tion. And I betray them when-I substitute my celibacy with preoccupation and fascination with personal corn- fort and appearance, with pleasure, popularity, and maneuvering to be "in." A second remark by way of conclusion concerns replacements for the living God. There are all sorts of replacements. We e~ich have our own preferred variety, our own little gods and golden calves and plastic idols. One of the golden calves is humanitarianism. In place of Christ at the center of my life I put myself and humanity. In place of consecration I put commitment; in place of prolonged contemplative prayer, endless drawn out dialogue and interpersonal relationships; the institution and mass identity in place of the individual's uniqueness; majority rule in place of self-determination. In place of self-surrender I put self-consciousness; in place of life, death; in place of spiritual reading, study ~ind learning and the daily paper; in place of liturgy, secular celebrations; in place of intuition, measurement; in place of asceticism, ease; in place of mystery, proof; in place of recollection and withdrawal, overinvolvement; in place of the unknown, the' known; in place of dis-cernment, public opinion; in place of faith, ration-alism; in p/ace of insight, behaviorism; in place of re-sponsibility, conformity; in place of internalizing and personal appropriation, objectification; in place of in-spiration, explanation; in place of decision, discussion; in place of celibate community, personality compatibility; in place of harmony, specialization; in place of spiri-tuality, sociology and psychology; in place of spiritual direction, group dynamics. My fascination with nature may even become a re-placement and substitute for the living God. The touch of nature, the beautiful and artistic may well dispose my heart for the Lord God--or may become a substi-tute. Theology may become a substitution or replacement for spirituality. They are quite unalike., as different as Karl Barth and Thomas Merton, as different as Tan-querey and Teresa of Avila. Another golden calf is the crowd--which becomes a major replacement or substitution for religious com-munity. The crowd is the great killer of life and prayer and wholeness; the great and gigantic intruder upon the ground of the Lord. Crowd is different from reli-gious community. Community which is religious ini-tiates, fosters, sustains religious centeredness. The crowd protects me from the most radical depths of meaning because it deprives me of that authentic aloneness and true individuality necessary to go very deep. Crowd squeezes the life out of me and becomes a divisive and shattering force against my consecration. It is especially the task of the religious in the culture ,,L~,~ ~09 to be radically set aside from the crowd, to become an alternative and to inspire the peaceful individuality of the others. The religious is the one who is able to be profoundly alone and profoundly related to others. She is able to stand, to live outside the crowd around her by uncovering the uniqueness of her own life and re-specting the life of the other. The celibate religious stands in the culture, in the midst of men, as the one so consecrated to life that she refuses to exchange her cen-teredness around the Lord for assimilation and death in the crowd. I betray my call and my religious community and the entire culture whenever I avoid or repress or replace commtinion with the Lord God with any other com-munion. Religious are meant to stir up loftiness and great spirit and dignity and grace so that those who look upon religious life, even for an instant, may straighten up, throw their shoulders back, and stand tall because they have found life abundantly. Religious are meant to say to the culture in which they live: "Receive the touch of the Lord and live. Do not be overtaken by death." ÷ ÷ ÷ ~.~ter Ma~ F~nn REYIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 210 EDOUARD POUSSET, s.J. Human Existence and the Three Vows The Gospel texts* contain a threefold call con-cerning the kingdom: chastity, poverty, and the humble service, of others in obedience to the Father. Every Christian must necessarily reach a point where he real-izes that he is personally involved in this call and that he must, within the limits of his own vocation, conform his life to it. When this call makes itself heard in a man's life it penetrates to the very heart of his existence and invites him to make what can only be described as a staggering conversion. Everything that counts for a human being is, in fact, directly involved: marriage and a family and the possessions which his work and his freedom of action obtain for him. Whoever hears this call is obliged to reorientate his life and it can happen that a man will go so far as to renounce, . through a death and resurrection which transform him, the essential values of his existence: ¯. there are eunuchs who have made themselves that way for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can (Mt 19:12)¯ . sell all that you own and distribute the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come follow me (Lk 18:22). ¯. anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be slave to all (Mk 10:43--4). It was in this way that all forms of consecration to the Lord which include the vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience were born in the Church. These three vows do not in any way consist in marginal practices and devotions. Chastity renews the heart out of love for God and creatures. Poverty establishes a new re-lationship between man and the riches of this world. ¯ This article was first published in French in Vie consacrde, vol-ume 41 (1989), pp. ~-94. The translation was made by William Russell, S.J.; St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, Massachusetts 01562. 4" Edouard Pomset, S.J., is professor philosophy at Lea Fontaines; ~O-Chan-tilly, France. VOLUME 2% 1970 4. 4. 4. Edouard Pou~set, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Obedience converts the desire for power and by so doing initiates man into true [reedom. The wows are man's very existence as it is lived out. in accordance with the death and resurrection o[ Christ.1 That is their greatness. But the renunciation which they entail has so direct, an effect" on the living sources and, the very structures of existence that today many are asking themselve.s if they do not doom those who pronounce them to live a life which is inhuman. And let us be honest about it, thi~ is a risk. What are these living sources, these fundamental structures of man's very existence? What does the gospel call to perfection entail? In what way are the vows a risk? How does someone live the vows? How can the risk involved be overcome by dying and being resur-rected jn Christ here and now in this world? Human Existence Man makes his appearance on the scene of life and advances in existence by a triple dynamism which un-folds in three essential activities. By means of these activities h~ develops a human s6ciety and thereby comes to understand what he is. First, there is the amorous desire which directs a human being towards his counterpart: man towards woman and woman towards man. It is this desire which is at the origin of the conjugal and familial society. Secondly, there is the power to transform and ap-propriate for oneself the natural universe which is the extension of one's body. By his work a man takes possession of this world and establishes' an economic society iri which the relationship between all the mem- XThis definition presents a difficulty, namely .that of being ap-plicable to every Christian life and not restricted to the religious life as such. Nonetheless, inasmuch as we are attempting to situate the religious life in its relationship to human existence in general and not to the life of Christians who are not religious this difficulty is of no consequence in this context. Those who would like a more precise treatment of this point may wish to consult Karl Rahner's article, "La thfiologie de la vie religieuse," in the collec[ive .work, Les religieux au]ourd'hui et deraain, Paris: Cerf, 1964, pp. 53-92. The fullness of Christianity--the perfection of love for God and man-can be attained without the vows. But religious life, because of the renunciation which it entails, "makes apparent in a very evi-dent manner and incarnates in an obje.ctive reality the faith in the supernatural grace of God which transcends this world." It is quite true that a Christian who marries, possesses his goods, and enjoys his independence can integrate the values of this world in a life of faith and thereby reach perfection. But because his existence (mar-riage, wealth, freedom) already has a value discernible by this world, independently of faith, "it does not make the transcendence of grace and faith evident in such an impressive way" (pp. 79 and 8~). And this is exactly what religious life accomplishes. bers strengthens the individuality of each one and each one's individuality strengthens the relationship which exists between the members. Thirdly, there is the desire to be independent, which is man's way of asserting his freedom when confronted by his counterpart, and his ability to conduct himself rationally. This desire is at the origin of the political society where interdependencies take shape which are the conditions of each one's freedom. Man is a being of nature, he is part of nature, but he is not, as is the animal, merely immersed in nature. He is consciousness, which implies that he can stand up to nature, look upon it as the object of his under-standing and his action, and so dominate it. A careful analysis of the relationship which man maintains with the world by sensible and intellectual knowledge would show that he is able to hold his own with everything that exists: the earth and sky and all they contain as well as what they cannot contain. The universe is his property, the object of his consciousness, and it is his vocation to make this universe---even though he is com-pletely exiled from it when he first appears in the world--his own. When he has emerged from nature, all of nature has at one and the same time been gathered together in him and remained entirely ex-terior to him. Both present to and absent from him, the universe is for him the object of a fundamental desire. And this sitiJation renews itself each time a human being is born. An infant is different from an animal in that the latter has particular, selective in-stincts, whereas the child reaches out for everything and puts it in his mouth. Everything is his. Because he is desire, the human being is desire to dominate and possess. But by coming in contact with others and experiencing the things of nature he is forced to adjust this desire both to the resistance he discovers in things and to the comparable desire he finds in others. The master finishes by finding his own master and .at times he even finds him,. in the servant he first sought to enslave. The oppositions and the struggles result in humanizing men by bringing them. little by little, to know themselves~ for what they are, to respect one another, and to get along with each .other. But because, he is desire, the human being, at the same time .as he is desire to dominate and to possess, is also the secret aspiration to find in another a subject simi-lar to himself who recognizes him without being forced 2 To I~ow onesell (se reconaRre): a precise phrase whose meaning is very strong. By mutual recognition each one sees and appreciates in the other what he is and even contributes to the creation of this value within him. 4. 4. the Vows VOLUME 2% 1WO 21~ + ÷ Edotmrd Pousset, S.]. REVIEW FOR REL|G[OUS ~14 to do so and who enables him to exist as subject as well. Without this aspiration no mutual and brotherly recognition would result from the play of forces and violence. It is this aspiration which, coupled more or less with the desire to dominate and to possess, sets man and woman in motion one towards the other: Man and woman are drawn by their very desire to seek in the other the subject, the 'T' which is able to affirm their own subjectivity, so that their harmonized reciprocity must converge in union . If man and woman succeed in giving themselves in a gift of mutual and equal assurance they can then embrace and merge in an act which establishes their unity? We have all known engaged couples and we know only too well to what extent the meeting between a young man and woman and the promise which they make one to another can transform them and develop in them potentialities which were hidden up to that time and cause them, as it were, to blossom. An un-questionable sign that they are, one for the other, be-coming more human. The relationship between a man and his wife results in the conjugal and familial society. By the union of the sexes the desire of the human being to possess nature and be recognized as a person by another person is fulfilled in a way that is partial and yet which takes the form of an intense communion. What con-stitutes the attraction of this relationship is not so much the pleasure, in the trivial sense of the term, but rather the intense communion with nature and with men. By his body each spouse recapitulates for the other all of nature, and this body is at the same time a free subject who gives himself to another subject whom he recognizes as being worthy of this gift. All the devia-tions and all the failures which can be blamed on the desire to dominate and to possess which is mixed in with the love drive do not erase the grandeur and the beauty of this mystery. Man and woman come to know one another and out of their union a child is born. By him they become father and mother. Paternity and maternity are not added on to their respective beings much like a particu-lar and accidental function; it is a re-creation of them-selves by themselves, and by their child. By this re-creation man and woman reach the fullness 6f their masculine and feminine beings, and no one who has seen a young mother bending over the crib of her little child or heard a father announcing the birth of his son could ever doubt this. All those who have 3 Gaston Fessard, "Le myst~re de la soci~tfi," Recherches de sciences religieuses, 1948, pp. 168-9, and again in L'actualitd historique, vol-ume I, Descl~e de Brouwer, 1960, p. 164. consecrated themselves to the Lord by the vow of chastity know these things, they think about them-- at times with nostalgia--and they would like to be no less man and woman, within their own vocation, than their married brothers and sisters. Nevertheless, we must not lose sight of the fact that the relationship between man and woman con-ceals an antinomy: that of love (the disinterested de-siring of good for the other and the hope of being recognized by him) and that of selfish desire to domi-nate and to possess for oneself. In marriage this antinomy is resolved but by a fragile balancing which is easily put into question. However successful family life may be it is the success of a particular group. Even harmonious--supposing they are so--family relation-ships retain the stamp and the limits o[ their origin: a biological generation which, of itself, produces only the particular bond of blood. But the human being requires a more universal society so as to become fully himself; this explains why the child once grown up leaves the family circle and enters a larger society, that of work, where he comes in contact with other men. This transition is brought about by a necessary movement: even before he experiences the narrow-ness of the family circle man must work to live and this work gives rise to relationships which are more universal than those of the family. To work is to confront and transform nature so as to take exclusive possession of it by adapting it so that it becomes one's own. Whether it be the first gathering together of things by the cave man or the building of a space capsule it is always man appropriat-ing nature, By his work he procures the goods which satisfy his needs (consumer goods) and which extend his individual body into the world (tools, equipment). This appropriation of the world by man is not only r~ecessary for his sustenance; the strengthening of his individuality depends on it as well. Even supposing that he has what he needs to satisfy his animal need to eat and drink, man, without his house and the objects with which he fills it, without the tools of his work, would scarcely be a man at all. He needs to possess these things so as to reinforce his existence in the world. Without them he is a poor creature indeed. Step by step he must possess the entire universe. The world, t~ansformed and organized by work and tech-niques, is man's body. To make the world and its riches one's own is a human act as spontaneous as it is necessary; it stems from a need, itself as undefined as the desire behind it. It is this need---the limitless ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 29, 1970 ÷ ÷ ÷ Edot~r. , d Pousset, REVIEW. ~FOR ,RELIGIOUS 21,.6 multiplicity of needs and their satisfaction--which gives birth to the economic society. By means of his work man extends his intelligence and his strength .into a produ.ct Which he fashions as he distances himself from nature. This produtt, the re-sult of his work, is at first exterior to him, but in a second time it must return to him in one way ,or an-other so that he might consume it and thereby satisfy his needs. This is the circuit which takes shape: work stemming from a need; the producing of an exterior object; the appropriation and satisfaction of a need by consumption. But as he works within this circuit man comes into contact with other men as well as with nature and these men, in turn, are also at work. Their meeting gives rise to an indefinite and indefi-nitely more complex development of this circuit: in-stead of consuming the product of his work directly he exchanges it for the product of another. Exchange is a factor of progress and by it, so long as one is also a producer, one can obtain things under the best of conditions and at the lowest costs. The more a society develops the more the rate of exchange is intensified within that society and the contrary is equally true. But the desire to dominate and possess which is at the very heart of man enters into this circuit of produc-tion and exchange and throws of[ the mechanisms thereby causing all sorts of disorders and frustrations to the detriment of one and all and even to entire classes of society. This desire is at the root of the social conflicts which periodically disrupt the life of a nation. No economic system has yet found the solution to the contradictions which arise within human activity. When a solution is introduced at a given point, as in the socialist system which deprives private property of the means of production, difficulties spring up at some other point. The economic sodety does not possess the means of resolving the problems it generates. In addition, the economic society' exists only Within another .sphere, the political society, which comes into being as a r~sult of the relationship of one man ~o another. Man, as he emerges 'from animal nature, comes in contact with another "man and a domination of one over the other is the consequence of their encounter. WithOut this dominatiori of a "master" who forces his "slave" to work, the elementary needs which the hu-man being feels would have led him only so far as to~ instinctively gather up things or to hunt and this would not have been enough to draw him out of his animal nature. If the young schoolboy was not~ obliged by his teacher .to make straight strokes beiween the lines of his notebook or to decifer the marks in his school book he would never do much more than scribble, he would never learn to read and write and he would not become intelligent. At the root of all human and humanizing activity there is a discipline, a law, either one which man's reason imposes upon himself once he has become reasonable or one imposed on him by an-other in those areas where his reason has not yet at-tained full competence or efficiency. When a man comes in contact with another, author-ity is made apparent, as is obedience. The one and the other are necessary for the development of ]reedgm which is, in the final analysis, the value with which the political society is chiefly concerned. Whether it is a question of a band of thieves or a group of disciples which a saint gathers about himself, the authority of the leader is asserted and accepted as a fact. It is then legitimized by the feel and concern for the common good of the group which is evident in the person of the leader. This will be the very basis of the obedience of the members of the group. The dialogue between leader and subordinates stems from this mo'tivation" of the common good, and it is this dialogue which defines the obligations and rights of each one. Thus the flee dom of each member keeps pace with political society as it develops, whether it be a gang, a clan, a nation, or an empire. It is in political society that the desire of each one to be free and responsible for his conduc( takes shape. This determination, as in the case of the love drive and the act of making the world one's own, comes from the very depths of man, from what I have referred to above as desire. It is inalienable and s6 powerful that it is capable of setting in motion entire peoples fighting for their independence, for. and against anything and everything. It is good in itself but it can deteriorate both in an individual and in societies into a desire for power and a sense of pride which affect political relationships more or less seriously and at times provoke the most violent of conflicts be-tween individuals or peoples. Such, summarily analysed, is this third sphere of human experience, that of the relationship of man to man as he is taken as a human being independent of the man-woman distinction. It is the political society which attempts to integrate with-out destroying and to unify without confusing the two preceding spheres: the family and the economic so- .ciety. Amorous desire, the power to appropriate the uni-verse for oneself, the determination to be independent, free, and responsible are three "drives" which can giv, e birth to three passions or sins: the inordinate desire of the flesh; the thirst for riches and for self; the desire. t ././././~. l,'otus VOLUME 29,~1970~. ~ '" . Edouagd Pousset, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS for power and pride of spirit. The gospel call is not only addressed to these three capital sins, however, but reaches us at the very heart of our existence, inviting us to live according to the paradox of death and resurrection and thereby to go beyond ourselves towards the Love which is the life of the Holy Trinity. The Gospel Call The gospel call to chastity is one addressed to all. Some live chastity by remaining single while others-- by far the greater number--live it within the ~amework of a monogamous and indissoluble marriage. On this point Christ. preaches more by His silence and His own example than by what He has to say. Yet He also speaks of it in these terms: . there is no one who has left house, wife,¯ brothers, parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not be given repayment many times over in this present time and, in the world to come, eternal life (Lk 18:29-30). These words were first addressed to a man who had heard Jesus, the messenger of the good news, and who in turn desired to be God's herald. He had to be ready to leave everything at a moment's notice for the sake of the kingdom. "Because of my name" Matthew writes. This phrase from Luke quoted above sums up what is essential: to follow Jesus for the sake of the kingdom which, for some at least, includes the two conditions of detachment and freedom of action. In another pas-sage of St. Luke we find a similar warning but in this instance it is worded in the form of a far more general requirement: "If. anyone comes to me without hating his father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, yes and his own life too, he cannot be my disciple" (Lk 14:26). And our Lord adds: "Everyone who divorces his wife and marries another is guilty of adultery and the man who marries a woman divorced by her husband commits adultery" (Lk 16:18). Finally, at the conclusion of his teaching on the prohibition of divorce which so puzzled his disciples, Our Lord sets the price even higher when he speaks of "eunuchs who have made themselves that way for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who canV' (Mt 19:12). Some have supposed, perhaps rightly so, that Jesus was referring to examples familiar to His listeners, John the Baptist for instance. They ask themselves if, in this comparison, He was thinking of perpetual con-tinence. Are we reading into these texts if we find in ¯ In parallel texts neither Matthew nor Mark make mention of the wife. them what Christ taught about the freedom r.equ, i~ed,, for following Him? Or does this interpretation take the edge off the point of our Lord's statement? J.-P. A,udet, who is not one to exaggerate the meaning of texts, asks himself these very questions and finds it ,preferable "to consider that Jesus was effectively thinking of the free choice of perpetual continence." 5 In the light of the example of our Lord tradition has interpreted this declaration as a. call to religigus chas-tity kept for the sake of the kingdom. Though the call to poverty recurs in numerous tex~ts, it appears at times to be addressed to very few: "If you wish to be perfect, go and sell what you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow reel (Mt 19:21). And yet this call is re-echoed in a warning against riches which is addressed to all: "How hard it is for those who have riches to make their Way into the king-dom of Godl" (Lk 18:24). In their primitive context these calls and warnings are to be understood as con-ditions for greater freedom necessary for one who car-ries the good news to others. They do not imply the condemnation of riches, even if they do underline the possible obstacle riches can be for those who hope for the kingdom. These calls become, in other passages, very general requirements which have to do with every disciple: Sell your possessions and give alms. Get yourselves purses that do not wear out, treasure that will not fail you, in heaven where no thief can reach it and no moth destroy it. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also" (Lk 12:33-4). One must be careful not to hoard: "Watch and be on your guard against avarice of any kind, for a man's life is not made secure by what he owns." (Lk 12:15). Free with regard to the goods of this world the disciple abandons himself to providence: "But you, you must not set your hearts on things to eat and things to drink . Your Father well knows you need them" (Lk 12:29-30). Poverty is not sought out for itself; it is desired for that confident abandonment which prepares us for the intimacy of the kingdom. By poverty man becomes like unto God, a child o[ the king-dom; he follows the lead of the Son who is supremely poor (and thereby rich) in His relationship to His. Father. Because of one's poverty which makes~ him a child of the kingdom the hundredfold is repaid him here and now. As regards obedience, which is not the object of a for- ~ J.-P. Audet, Mariage et cdlibat dans le service pastoral de l'Eglise, Paris: Orante, 1967, p. 58. . ¯ . 4. 4. 4. Existence the Vows VOLUME 29,,1970 . 219 mal call in the gospels, it is, as seen in the Son of Man, the very heart of His mystery: "My aim is to do not my own will, but the will of him who sent me" (Jn 5:30). But the will of the one who sent Him was that the Son give His life for many: "For the Son of Man himself did not come to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mk 10:45). He calls to a service which He Himself has fulfilled in obedience to the Father: to become the slave of all as He did whose "state was divine, yet., he emptied himself to assume the conditions of a slave., even to accepting death, death on a cross" (Ph 2:6-8): You know that among the pagans their so-called rulers lord it over them and their great men make their authority felt. This is not to happen among you. No, anyone who wants to be-come great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be slave to al'. (Mk 10:42-4). This is how a man enters into life: "I have come so that they may have life, and have it to the fulF' (Jn 10:10). By religious profession this threefold call becomes the institutional norm of those who are called to this vocation.6 But confronted with what man is ac-cording to the dynamism of his nature, namely desire, the power to dominate and to possess the earth, and the determination to be independent, this gospel call institutionalized by the vows raises a problem felt very keenly in our times. Is it human to renounce the carnal expression of love, to renounce all goods, and to submit one's will to the power of another? Does the renunciation called for by the Gospels succeed in opening man up or does it accomplish just the opposite by imposing frustrations, on him? The Risk Involved in the Vows If the renunciation spoken of in the Gospels leads to a resurrection in this world it will be seen that it e Even if life in a religious institute is not the vocation of all, the renunciation called for in the Gospels does concern everyone in that all are called to perfection, to the kingdom of God, and to love, Man and wife, as they enter into a fruitful union and thereby collaborate by marriage in the creative work of God have to make their way as Christians towards the resurrection. They must be attentive to the grace which will perhaps predispose them and permit them to un-fold by choice, here and now, into the life of the Kingdom "where men and women do not marry" (Mk 12:25). Even those whose voca-tion is to make the earth bear fruit and to organize existence in this world are invited to become poor with Christ who was poor. Finally, in accordance with the diversity of states of life all Christians have to share the mystery of the Son who "'emptied himself., even to accepting death" (Ph 2:7-8) by living in such a manner as to make it apparent to all that they are disciples of the Master who "did not come to be served but to serve" (Mk 10:45). re-creates man and that it will not work against him except insofar as it enables him to be fulfilled over and above what he might have otherwise attained. But does this renunciation spoken of in the Gospels actually lead to a resurrection here in this world? Isn't it, for many who have embraced it, merely putting up with a num-ber of frustrations? Isn't it rather a question of slipping into and getting bogged down in mediocrity? Faced with this question one can first point out that the human being becomes human only to the extent that he exercises a certain interior asceticism over his spontaneous drives and converts their instinctive vio- ¯ lence into reasonable behavior. Without this the love drive, the power to make the universe one's own, and the desire to be independent are neither human nor hu-manizing. Yet it is quite true that the renunciation of the Gospels goes beyond this interior asceticism. Not only does it discipline nature, in a sense it contradicts it: to die so as to be reborn, yes, but to die, and in a very radical sense. If this is lived out in an awkward fashion it can give rise to harmful repressions and frustrations. This is the risk involved in the vows; this is why they are sometimes said to be "inhuman." But this does not tell the whole story behind the vows and the renunciation requested in the Gospels. If such were the case we would be left with the as-surance that they are both bad and harmful. Nor is this, generally speaking, the initial experience of those who embrace the religious life.7 But it is one aspect of the truth; it is a moments in Christian growth and development as the experience of religious life shows us when the daily ordinariness is felt over a period of 7 Most young people who respond to a call to a religious or priestly vocation experience their consecration as a fulfillment rather than as a profound contradiction or frustration of their being. Generally speaking di~culties arise later on in their religious life. s,,Moment,, implies a "stage" or "point" within a development. What is characteristic of a "moment" is that it contains all the re-ality which a development will eventually produce but without as yet making it apparent in an adequate way. Reality at this stage is seen under one or several of its aspects but not as yet in its totality. Therefore at a given moment when the renunciation spoken of in the Gospels and the vows themselves are felt to be "inhuman" we have an example of a partial truth overshadowing a more complete one: that the vows do not contradict man's fundamental dynamism except insofar as they enable him to outdistance this very dynamism and so fulfill him in a higher order of reality. To the extent that the religious will enter into this higher order of reality the more clearly will he recognize that the vows, far from being inhuman, are actually eminently humanizing. In certain periods of crisis or de-pression this more total truth can be entirely obscured. At such a time the partial but very real aspect of the truth--that the vows contradict human nature and can in a sense be said to be "inhuman" --is sometimes felt very acutely. the Vows VOLUME 29, 1970 221 Edouar d : Pousse t, REVIEW. F.O.R RELIGIOUS 222 -:years, when one finds it difficult to accept events, situa- ~tions, others, and even oneself, when disappointments .and deceptions begin to weigh on us. But this reality is. no scandal. For. those 'who have experienced the ups and. downs of their religious existence it is, in a sense, liberating. One can actually profit from such an ~experience by carefully evaluating it and seeing it as it ~eally is: limited, partial, and always there in the background. . This "inhuman" side o[ renunciation and the vows is especially noticeable when one confronts the celibate religious with the essential dynamism which draws man and woman one to the other and which finds its ¯ growth in the unity of a fruitful love. In the marriage .state ,perfectly happy lives are, without doubt, less numerous than those would have us imagine who are :sooyery alert to the failures or half-failures of religious life and who place, the cause of these " failures squarely on celibacy. It is nonetheless true that when we ~consider the physiological and psychic make-up of man .and woman, human love and its carnal expression .oppear as both the means and the goal of their ful-fillment ¯ here on earth. Human beings develop through :relationships;. and the richest, the most fruitful, the most humanizing of relationships seems to be that of a .man and woman united in a love which generates free-dom and responsibility. In marriage even those who are not destined to enjoy "the tomorrows that sing" experi-enc_ e,, at least in the beginnings, the joy of loving and ~being loved, the unfolding of an immense hope and .fll. e certitude of having found it. When their sexual attraction, diffused up to that time, is centered on a chosen being, man and woman, by the exercise of their freedom, reach maturity and enter concretely into a di~alogue which creates an even greater freedom. Their love~ in its carnal expression, because it is pledged ac- .cording to the concrete conditions of this freedom where each one is, for the other, a permanent appeal for a gratuitous love, must of necessity rule out whatever is ambiguous and whatever causes the possessive and domi-nating instinct to weigh heavily upon it. This may or may: not be the case; love can renew itself each day or it can slip into the trite and the ordinary; freedom can either grow or, on the contrary, become an alienato i~i~': force. The precise conditions of this creation and gr.o.wth 'are, however, given' to us: a man and a woman who choose one another accept whatever a life lived t6gether .entails, the grandeur as well as the risks of a frutiful union. /OppOsed to this is the notion that one who remains celibate or who chooses celibacy deprives himself of the very means of reaching maturity. He will, in any case, probably be longer in reaching that maturity. And doesn't the universal availability of the celibate conse-crated to God, an availability which does not link him to any one person in particular, mask an escape? Doesn't it place him outside the real conditions of af-fective life?° Finally, doesn't the ,sexual drive, contra-dicted in celibacy, run the risk of being kept under control by being repressed inasmuch as it does not find, it would seem, an expression which channels it, disciplines it, and makes it fruitful in directing it to the service of a creative love? These questions are by no means merely theoretical. Religious poverty gives rise to problems which are probably not so delicate as those raised by chastity. Poverty has to do with things and reaches the human being less directly. What would create a problem today is not so much religious poverty as the lack of it. We question ourselves more about the way of living poverty than about the means of remedying eventual inconveniences. Among possible inconveniences we should perhaps mention infantilism or the failure to fully realize what is involved in money matters or at least a superficial attitude which produces and sustains ir-responsibility in matters of purchasing and budgeting. He who has vowed poverty expects and in fact receives everything from his community without for the most part having to experience the price of things directly. These are serious lacunae. They indicate that we have neglected to face up to this objective and fundamental problem: that of work and remuneration or, to put it another way, that of the exchange of specified services. A child can expect everything from his parents; but an adult, if he is to avoid falling into infantilism, cannot expect unlimited services without asking himself the question of reciprocity and remuneration, the question of ,paying back. Money, in this sense, is not seen in a sinister light. It is a precise and very respectable in-strument of adult behavior. A poverty which would keep the religious on the outside of financial problems would be quite vain and perhaps even ambiguous, especially if it were based on a contempt for money. Poverty at times gives rise to another inconvenience. It consists in asking one's superior or his or her delegate ~A psychoanalyst asks this question: "How can we speak about the affectivity of someone who has put himself in a position where he will not be affected by anything or anybody?" Even though his question does not correspond exactly to the reality of the situation it does serve to focus our attention on still another aspect, that of the celibate consecrated to God who is not dependent upon a loved one--husband or wife--who might eventually betray him. .4, E~istence and the Vows Edouard pou'sset, . Sd. REVIEW ~FOR REI.IGIO~J~ :224 .fbr; everything and a bond of dependence is thereby created: poverty of dependence. If this dependence is strict and experienced down to every detail and for things insignificant in themselves it can result in a minuteness and a niggardliness entirely opposed to gpiritual freedom. To be able to pay for what one finds pleasing or what answers .a need favors a certain autonomy of the person which is in line with the human order of things. Close dependence on this point with regards to another can conceal a repressed and petty enviousness completely lacking in dignity.1° As regards the vow of obedience it too, as in the case of chastity, reaches the person at the heart of his human 'existence. Some, dreaming of a fraternal society with-out a "father," do not understand that a human being cannot become himself and assert himself without a relationship of authority. Such people look upon the vow of obedience as one of the most inhuman of aber-rations. But even when One admits the necessity of authority and of interior asceticism for converting instinctive drives, the vow of obedience, inasmuch as it pushea this asceticism to the very renunciation of one's own will, will seem to go too far and fall,, by excess, into something inhuman. Such a person will be unable to see that the sacrifice of one's will makes us die so ag 'to be reborn to the will of God, to the will to at-tain the kingdom of love where each one is truly him-self, above and beyond that which he might want very much. But if the secret of this death and resurrection is not clearly seen it is because it is something difficult to live. Because of their deficiencies religious are fre-quently the cause of the objections formulated against 'their way of life. It is so difficult to live freely accord-in~ g to the spirit of the kingdom of God in complete renunciation of one's own willl It is so very difficult to 'die to self so as to be rebornl Quite a few of those whb have made the vow adopt a middle-of-the-road solution~ which lacks both human and religious truth-fulness. Some, in fact, take their obedience lightly and .SO put themselves in a false situation. Others enter ¯ materially into the behavior required by obedience or tolerate a type of guardianship and even at times con-. form themselves to the will of superiors but without being able to renounce in depth their own will and judgment. This is not what is meant by dying so as to rise again. Rather ~hey live in a state of subjection which only frustrates them. It happens that the per-sonality is more or less stifled--only a moulage is left-- 1°This is perhaps more evident in communities of religious women. ~nd if at times iio bitt~tlless is felt ~of6 often thatt not the religious harbors secret resentments. Are the vows for or against mah? On the factual level the reply to this question is not all that evident. And this very situation favors the opinion of those who consider it hazardous or prejudicial to go against the fundamental dynamisms of human existence so completely. Living the Vows As impressive as the obj.ections are which one can raise against the vows, the strength and clarity of the gospel' call do not allow us to put into question the consecration to God by chastity, poverty, and obedience. In addition, the experience of those who are living the vows does not in any way lead them to think-- except perhaps in a moment of crisis or prolonged de-pression- that they are on a dead-end street even if in terms of human or spiritual success they still have much ground to cover. They see only too well the difficulties and even the risks involved in the religious life but they do not experience them as dangers ~rom which there is no escape or as barriers thrown up along their path. Many, by far the majority, are convinced that they were not deceived by the youthful eagerness of their early years in religion and the spontaneous joy of their first gift to God. But let us consider those religious men and women who have not yet attained the heights of perfection and who have not yet penetrated into the mystery of the death and resurrection of Christ. These religious know and feel that their vows have made them men and women with hearts full of love and wills that are free. They are frank and honest in their way of thinking as they go about converting all the relation-ships which constitute their human existence in society. What type of life do they lead? In our communities many attain a fundamental ad-hesion to the will of God, one which frees them from whatever tends to imprison their human intelligence and will. They owe this freedom to their obedience. In their superior they find a presence which helps them to see clearly. On their part they reflect and explain their reasons to him and his agreement confirms them in truth. If it is "no"--and they are ready to hear and accept this "no" without bitterness---they see themselves as being caught up in the search for a truth which is, for the time being, still beyond them, one free of self, of self-affirmation, self-seeking, self-interest. They know that they are no better than anyone else; to some degree their desire for power is still a factor to be reckoned ÷ ÷ ÷ Ethx~i sote Vnocwe s~and .'. " VOLUME 29, 1970. :.:., Edot~rd Pmuwt, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS with and their zeal, as generous as it is, still runs the risk of being warped by an instinct to possess and to take pleasure in things for themselves. This instinct is, in their eyes, a devouring weed even if it does not spread into everything they do. They do not dramatize their situation though they know that the most contra-dictory conceptions of the world and the most ruinous enterprises take root in this very desire for power and in this appetite for enjoyment. By allowing themselves to be converted by obedience they further the canse of peace and unity among men before God. For them to obey is to enter into the action of the all.powerful Master who renounced His power to the point of be-coming a slave and once a slave He did not attach Him-self to existence, as is ordinary in the case of a servile being, but rather accepted death through obedi-ence. This two-fold action is reciprocal as well: the God who becomes human uproots all desire for power of the "master" in us who wants to impose himself, and the man who is God frees the slave (ourselves) from his subservient attachment to life and enjoy-ment. Whether it is a question of moderating their tendency to dominate a discussion and so fall in line with the superior's will or not treating themselves to a cool drink on a hot day these religious are allowing them-selves to be transformed by this double and reciprocal action of God made man which is, in act, the salvation of the world. This is hard and mortifying on certain days, though their sacrifices are not without their hu-morous side, and as they are thereby reborn they are also called to die a little. Christ said that "my food is to do the will of the one who sent me" (Jn 4:34). It is a joy which nourishes us with the feeling that we are participating in a day to day way in the very mystery of the Son of God and in His lifel At times we protest against this obedience of judg-ment and yet it is this very obedience which com-pletely converts the relationship of force and inequality which, in all authority, exists between the leader and his companions. By this obedience they share the joy of serving the same Lord together, in a friendship which draws them close to each other and makes them equal. But as long as the judgments of the superior and his brother religious have not become as one--the su-perior accepting an attentive exchange with the religious and the latter in turn making known his reasons only so that he might better enter into a plan which may not, at the outset, be his own--a relationship of domination and submission persists. The decision reached under these conditions will be one in which the religious who obeys will be changed by the will of the ~superior. but his own judgment will remain outside their re: lationship. If, on the contrary, he is able to share the. judgment of his superior, all trace of submission ,dis-appears, leaving place for the communion of the two in truth as they both see it: a communion in joy and friendship. Obedience does not always lead to this, friendship and joy which are the ultimate truth of all authority, but there are those who experience it in their communities or in their .small apostolic groups. Others are still looking for .and hoping to attain this "friendship which draws close . " It is quite, true that those in authority who are narrow and .who do. not. possess all the necessary qualities continue to create. situations which we would hope never to see agkin in, religious life; but the sufferings of those who put up with these situations in no way cancel out this joy and hope for even there where no solution is apparent the mystery of the Master become a slave who ac-~ cepted death carries on its work of life. To die so as to be reborn: that is the mystery of. obedience. It is also the mystery of poverty. The poverty of the Gospels is a prophetic call inasmuch as it is set down as an absolute requirement for .entrance into the kingdom of God. The statements concerning it are uncompromising, categoric; they, too, are but a part of an incarnation which liberates. At first glance this call does not appear to take into consideration. the building up of this world by man who must con-tinue the work of creation. Immediate, material poverty, the literal conformity to the call of the Gospels: "Go and sell what you own and give the money to the poor., then come, follow me" (Mt 19:21) will quickly knock the supports out from under those who hold to some archaic fantasy or to a form of parasitism in this regard. When he vows poverty man does not thereby escape from the conditions of a creature who has needs. If he did he would become the parasite of those who possess because they work in lucrative enterprises. Perhaps he, too, would work, but in a gratuitous way by devoting himself to an activity which would not assure the satisfaction of his vital needs. Even if the work he is doing is being done out of his concern for the kingdom of God, the. fact remains that he would not be earning his livelihood; he would have to have some-one richer near at hand so as to be able. to live in his poverty. There are those among us today who have eXperi-enced the scandal of rich religious institutes or at least of institutes whose poverty is not meaningful for our times. These religious have heard the call of the Gospels 4, Existence'. Und ,.~ VOLUME !29,, 1970 :,.;~ ' 227 REVIEW POR RELIGIOUS aga~ln but they want neither fantasy nor parasitism. They feel that there is a disinterestedness with regards to the problem of money which can be a misunder-standing of precise human obligations. They have con-formed to "Go and sell what you own" but they are also clearly aware of the content of ". then come, follow me." For them to follow Jesus in poverty is to set out on a road of patience along which one takes into consideration the conditions to which he is sub-jected by his nature as a being who has needs. If they are to follow Jesus they must first submit with dis-cernment to the economic laws of their own historical context, .a context which can and does change. By their personal renunciation--"go and sell what you own"--they are in a way prophets as was the Messiah who had no place to lay His head. By humbly accepting to bear with the machinery of an economic system they are being faithful to Jesus who lived among men. And if this system should oblige them, if not to be owners at least to enjoy social rights and to receive benefits due them because of these rights, they accept--not re-luctantly, as if it were a crack in their wall of poverty, but willingly, recognizing in this the concrete form of their condition as men. Inserted in social structures which do not allow them to be, to the letter, "the beggars of Jesus Christ"--and, in point of fact, the parasites of others--they live poverty according to their own times by submitting to a precise system of economic exchanges where rights and benefits have as their coun-terpart services to be rendered and services actually rendered, all carefully defined. And yet they still feel free to serve over and above what is required of them, gratuitously, without counting the cost. Gratuitouslyl And it is at this point that they feel they are in a way prophets of their times because eco-nomic activity and its apparent and unrelenting law of "nothing for nothing" needs gratuitousness: The practice of gratuitousness is an everyday happening. In order to extend industrial production it is essential that dis-interested activities create a flow of applicable inventions and innovations and that the market be surrounded by a network of hopes and expectations (Father Perroux). Poverty is not a technique for resolving the contra-dictions of the economic society so as to assure its good functioning. Nevertheless, the poor religious does not feel himself to be unimportant in this society. His poverty, which contradicts the spirit of profit-at-all-cost and outdistances the rigidity of "nothing for noth-ing" is, in fact, in step with the society in which he is moving. Finally, the religious discovers that it is society which allows him to have access to the kingdom of God and in addition enables him to make the world his own. Because he does not possess things as does someone who owns an original oil painting by a famous artist and valued at a considerable amount of money his poverty frees him to see, hear, touch, taste, feel, in a word "make his own" the universe of things and beings just as a free and cultured man makes his own the work of art he goes to contemplate as connoisseur in a museum where it is for everyone. Poverty creates a new rela-tionship with things. The detachment it entails creates an availability for disposing of the world according to what it is, according to its beauty rather than its mere immediate utility. In this way the poor man pos-sesses the earthl Obedience and poverty liberate man but it is chastity which allows him to taste supreme freedom. Whoever has converted desire within himself loves God for God. This love satisfies within him the need which every creature feels because of the very way he is consti-tuted, but from this moment on what was carnal desire is now ardent adoration. He loves others as he loves God and this is why his choice can be shared among many without being, divided. The vow of chastity is the vow of friendship and love. There are many men and women among us who are not yet Francis of Assisis or St. Clares who know this to be true. They have known the joy of their initial eagerness and of their first gift. There was someone sleeping deep within them whom the Lord awoke. Springtime of lovel Then they entered religious life and discovered the weight of institutions and the ordinariness of daily life. It was no longer spring, but the love they had for Jesus Christ, rehewed each day, strengthened the delicate fragility of their youth. They grew strong and re-mained young. For them--for each one of us--the first step on the road of love was the break with the world. The love of God does not admit of a sharing and so they began by giving up many things. Some will perhaps speak of frustrated affections and sexual difficulties which can re-sult but these are but mishaps along the road. Men and women anxious to give themselves entirely to God do not look upon them as irremediable. To give up a human love for the Lord implies that one accepts to be momentarily "off balance" but this is part of human nature. They accepted this; this was their first authentic gift of faith. A second step followed this which was the Lord's doing. They were chiefly responsible for the first step ÷ ÷ + VOLUME 2% 1970 229 ÷ ÷ Ed6uard Pousset, " $.1. REVIEW!FOR.RELIGIOUS when they answered His call and actively committed themselves. In this second step it was the Lord who worked ~leep within them and detached them so as to attach them to Himself. They may have met others and discovered human love along the way. This is their secret. At. the point they had reached there was a great danger that the seduction of this human love might win out over their attachment to the Lord which was not yet fully rooted in their being. They alone can appreciate the sacrifice they had to make but one thing is certain: they grew because of it. At this same stage in their ,lives they also knew what fraternal life could offer: emulation in things spiritual, intellectual, and apostolic built strong friendships among them. which the passing years have not wiped away. They still have much to discover, much progress remains to be made, btit these friendships have enabled them to understand that there are not two loves, the love of God and the love of creatures, but only one. No one who has heard a simple word spoken by a friend which opened his heart and brought him in contact with God's love will ever be able to doubt again that this is so. There are not two loves. Love and freedom--that is the resurrection whose price is the renunciation spoken of in the Gospels and as it is practiced by the vows. But many reading these lines will ask themselves: where do I figure in this? Am I the one just described? Yes, you are there along with the others, but in religious life as in life in general there are stages and they are lived one after the other once one has a strong hold on what is essential. It is difficult, certainly, inasmuch as today community life which is the fruit of what is essential as well as the means of living it is something we are still attempt-ing to pin down. But the fact that we are still seeking cannot leave us in doubt as to the essential: to die and to be resurrected. The following experience invites us in a very simple way to self-forgetfulness: Community life is so "up-in-the-air" at this time that one doesn't really know what to say about it. From my own experi-ence I feel that the real benefit of living a vowed life in com-munity has been a difficult but rewarding school of self-forget-fulness. ,When this seed is planted and when it finds the soil healthy and productive (that is, a living, fraternal community) the vows enable us to develop and unfold with no danger of repression. Don't many of the problems we face today stem from the fact that we forget' the essential "virtues" common to any life in society, to any life lived in common? We neglect them because other things said to be more important have been given priority: dialogue, responsibility, "adult" religious life. . And so we set.aside the small favor done with a smile, the concern of making conversation at table interesting for the one next to us, in a word, a good disposition, and an ease, nothing more, which we all need. I may be tklking too down-to-earth here but it does seem to me that we can fool ourselves so easily. The vows are like a delicate flower which will not give forth it.s full bloom unless the sap runs into the stem and the stem is rooted in good soil. From the very first step we take in religious life until such time as we reach the summits it is always a ques-tion of this unique mystery: to die and to be resurrected. But the more we advance the more the question be-comes more precise and insistent: how do we die and how are we resurrected? I will attempt to tie to-gether the ends of everything said so far so as to focus on this one question. What I have to say doubtlessly presulSposes that a certain amount of ground has been covered. Nevertheless the question and the reply can be understood by each one according to the point he has reached. In the spiritual life there isn't a time for "more practical virtues" and a time for "more radical experiences"; those making their way through the former need, at times, the enlightenment provided by the latter--even if they are not exactly their own experi-ences-- and the latter still need the former as well. To Die and to Be Resurrected Religious life, as in the case of marriage though in a different way, enables us to discover litde by little that we must die. Chastity is mortifying as are poverty and obedience. When with the experience gained over the years the religious comes to feel to what extent his state in life dooms him to die the real danger, the only one for him, is not to know how to die or not to be able to die sufficiently. The resurrection comes only through death and no one is resurrected until and un-less he dies. Even though the religious committed him-self freely to this way of renunciation the death he must undergo does not depend on his good will. This impossibility for a man of good will to die to himself in Jesus Christ is at one and the same rime the problem and the key to that problem. It is the problem in that the price of the resurrection is death and if this death is impossible for him he is not resur-rected and his vows place him in the dangers men-cloned above. It is also the key to the problem in that the impossibility experienced in dying to self, namely to change and convert oneself so as to live the perfec-tion of the gospel message, is the basic condition for decisive progress along the road which leads to death and resurrection in Jesus Christ. Christ said this very clearly to His Disciples who, disturbed and confused by His teaching on poverty, asked Him: "In that case. who can be saved?" And he replied: "For men it is + + + fMaence and th~ Edouard Pousset, REVIEW FO, R.R~L~GIOUS impossible., but not for God, because everything is possible to God" (Mk 10:27). The question, then, is not to know if the vows are practicable or not. In all their strictness they are not. Nor is it whether there might not be a risk of "dehumanizing" man. The vows do, in fact, 'admit of this risk. The only question is to know if once one has reached the realization that he is unable .to live the perfection of the gospel message the Christian consecrated to God by vows is going to allow himself to be taken by his Lord, to die in Him so as to be resurrected with Him. Or better still, the question is to know how this can be accomplished. First of all, to reach this realization that "for men it is impossible" indicates that one has follov~ed Ghrist for a long time and sought to imitate Him with all the zeal and generosity which said "yes" without reserva-tion to His call. It is here that the importance of a certain inner asceticism is evident even if this asceticism is not, in itself, decisive. Many do not enter seriously ¯ into the paths of union with the God who is responsi-ble for their death and resurrection because they have not been energetic enough with themselves. This asceticism will mortify the desire to dominate and to possess which troubles the living sources of our nature. But there is more to it than this. Because of the religious state itself, these living sources are contradicted by the very fact that the vows impose a renunciation on vital poir~ts. But by itself this asceticism will not result in ~forgetfulness of self or humility; by itself thi~ renuncia-tion .will, not assure us of a peaceful balance nor will .it bring about the joy of being resurrected with Christ in this world. What the religious seeks actively by asceticism and renunciation can only be received as a gratuitozts gift. For of themselves neither asceticism nor renunciation through the practice of the vows make us die sufficiently. What we can learn from them and .what is their most authentic contribution is the ad- .mission that the perfection of the gospel message is im-possible. But before this precious fruit of the spiritual life has .matured by long experience the religious is exposed to certain serious errors along the road on which he so generously set out. If he remains negligent, not meas-uring sufficiently the importance of asceticism and what his vows require or, more correctly, what the Lord requires of him, it is evident that he will never die to self. Nor will he do so if he goes ahead courageously along a road of voluntary self-denial. At least it will .not be because of his courage. In the first instance he runs the risk of practising an abnegation which is on a merely human level and in addition there is the danger of falling into a voluntariness which is always in-operative when it is a question of killing our own will, our ego, that desire so essential to us of loving and be-ing loved,ix An abnegation which stems too unilaterally from man's good will and courage runs the risk of end-ing up in a violent forcing of the will by a suppression of desire. In addition to all these reasons find to many others weakness or, on the contrary, poorly guided energy can slip quickly into all the complications which accompany a mishandled psyche: The years pass and it happens that a kind of spiritual heaviness settles in and the beginnings which were so full of promise empty out in insignificance. Little by little the feeling of a half-failure or an incurable mediocrity spread through one who so generously gave himself to God. Then he reaches the critical hour of possible discouragement or of "wisdom" which, from then on, will keep him on a "good middle course." Most fatal of temptationsl But it can also be the hour of setting out anew, the hour of a "second conversion," for it is then that he fully realizes from personal experience that he is unable to convert himself, he is unable to die so as to be resurrected. This, then, is the hour of gracel The need to die remains but now we understand that the only way we can die is by God's hand. We must die on the cross and it is .Jesus Christ who carries the cross and who dies upon it. It is in Him and by the same death that we must die. Strictly speaking this is not the result of asceticism or voluntary abnegation. When it is a ques-tion of asceticism and self-imposed abnegation, our capacities are limited; they offer no solution other than the personal determination of going against our-selves. They are necessary, certainly, but we know how difficult it is for us to practice them with faith and good sense without a giving in on the part of some or a voluntariness on the part of others. The death out of which we are reborn implies the passivity of the creature under God's hand, and this is very different from an ascetical effort and quite the opposite of psychological depressions. God takes it upon Himself to have us live this passivity by means of the trials of existence but there are a thousand and ¯ one way~ of taking the trials of hfe poorly~ and there is very little chance that one look upon them and ac-cept them with peace of soul. If one has not [so disposed himself well in advance it is very difficult io keep the n It is important not to forget that in killing our own will and desire we do so for a very precise purpose: so as to be r~surrected and not so as to destroy them. Existence and the Vows VOLUME 29, 1970 $4. REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOUS kingdom and this death which leads to resurrection always in mind. What disposes to this passivity in faith is the realization we experience that the perfection of the gospel message is impossible for men. Coupled with this awareness is prayer.12 The cross which brings about our death is not within the reach of our initiative; prayer is. Prayer is both to take and not to take the initiative. Experience, as painful as it is beneficial, of our radical incapacity to imitate Christ in His chastity, His poverty and His obedience bears fruit in patience and simplicity, In this climate prayer leads us to union with Jesus Christ carrying His cross; it establishes us in Him and makes us die His death. He who prays in the peaceful admission of his weak-heSS is no longer he who lives, it is Christ who lives, dies, and is resurrected in him. First, it is Jesus Christ who lives in him--not yet in the fullness of transforming union which is the full par-ticipation in His resurrection but by a loving adhesion of the creature to his Creator and Lord by whom he is encouraged and sustained as he progresses. This loving adhesion reproduces in each one the experience of those who, in the history of Israel and later those who gathered around Jesus, attached themselves with all their force to the Lord. It is not yet the resurrec-tion; it is the life shared with the Lord made man along a road leading to the cross. At the price of this shared life the disciple, by a direct experience, enters into the mystery of his relationship of creature to Creator. Plung-ing himself in prayer and patience he hears the word of God as if it were being spoken to him: "In these words the Lord spoke to Jacob whom he created and to the Israel whom he himself fashioned: Do not be afraid; I have paid for you, I have called you by your name, you belong to me" (Is 42:1). Prayer not only enables us to realize that we are creatures, it also brings us in contact with the Lord as Beloved. There are those who know the Lord through the intermediary of people or books and there are those who have met him in another way, having been found by Him. They allowed themselves to be taken and from then on they belong to Him. The love of Jesus Christ penetrates into all the zones of personal-ity, intelligence, will, affectivity; and one day or an-other they understand that this love has become the X~Not just any form of prayer but certainly not discursive medi-tation which is still much too "active"; rather a very simple, loving prayer such as I have described elsewhere ("Pri~re perdue, pri~re retrouv~e," Vie consacrde, 1968, pp. 148-64). This form of prayer is possible only to someone who has at least begun to realize that the life of the Gospels is impossible for man. ver,y substance of their .being. They feel sure that the objections raised against their vow of chastity have little by little lost all their force as far as they are cdncerned. This universal availability which some will claim does not bind them to anyone in particular is, in f~ct, a. passionate adhesion to Someone. There is, they realize, no risk of being deceived or betrayed by this Someone and yet in spite of the certainty of their relationship with Him they .do not feel "settled in." The love of God is to .be created every dayl God is someone who has his views and his ways of doing things ~nd this sbmetimes adds a note of the unexpected to life. Those, then, who allowed themselves to be taken by Him do not have the feeling of "having been put i.n a position where nothing and no one will affect them." Having grown used to God a day comes when, in a silence which fulfills them, they sense the first signs of transforming union. This feeling of Presence which is not so much felt as it is experienced as something beyond all doubt is the beginning of this death and resurrection as they are lived conjointly, one within the other. For they know--and 'they live it in very precise encounters--that life with the Lord leads them to His' cross and on to the joy of rising with Him as well. This death of Jesus Christ in which baptism plunged them sadramentally now becomes their very existence. It is at this moment that they die to their immediate desire to love and be loved, to .their fleed to possess, and to their own will. What neither voluntary abnegation' nor interior asceticism--ivhich they prac-tice continually--could do, loving prayer accomplishes within them. They are in the morld, dead to the world, to themselves, and to others, and yet in direct propor-tion to this death they "are renewed, resurrected by an intense presence to the world through service, friendship, and love: I shall give you a new heart, and put a new spirit in you; I shall remove the heart of stond from your bodies and give you a heart of flesh instead. I shall put my spirit in you, and make you keep my laws and,. sincerely respect my observances (Ez 36: 26-7). Resurrection The vocation of those who have embraced chastity, poverty, and Obedience is to anticipate the resurrection here in this world. It is likewise the destiny personally pro-posed to all. Let those accept it who canl Dead and resurrected, the religious--and every Chris-tian as well "to whom it is granted" (Mt 19:11) by God-- receives the outpouring oi universal charity. The Lord first .became for him the Beloved who introduces him ÷ + ÷ Existence and VOLUME Zg, 1970 by faith into the secret of an intimacy which is his joy. He has heard the word of the Psalm: "Listen, daughter, pay careful attention; forget your nation and your an-cestral home" (Ps 45:11). He listened and the Lord spoke to his heart: "I have loved you with an everlasting love and so I am constant in my affection for you. I build you once more; you shall be rebuilt, virgin of Israel" (Jr His joy is not his joy, it is God's joy; and he can in-crease it merely by allowing himself to be loved and filled. From that moment on the promise of God is no longer a promise: "I shall be their God and they shall be my people"; x3 it is a present reality: "I am my Be-loved's and my Beloved is mine" (Sg 6:3). The others, according to the diversities of divine grace, become his beloved as well.x4 The religious loves them dearly. The friendship which he vows them is no longer something in addition to his love for God; it tends, at least, towards total unification with this love. These others are not enveloped as it were in a universal charity which would deny them any particular atten-tion. He loves them all and he loves each one for what he is. He does not love Peter and John in the same way. And it is only fitting that God placed this preference for one or another in our hearts. Because of this exceptional grace he reaches almost without effort the end he hoped for and worked so hard to attain. In one and the same act he loves his unique Savior and the creature who truly becomes for him the sacrament of the presence of God. He was obliged to live his consecration to God in renouncing human affections because, in fact, his heart was divided. From now on he lives only one love and it seems to him that he understands the friendship of Ignatius for Xavier, of Francis of Assisi for Clare, of Bernard for William. He does not need someone to tell him this marvelous story; it has become the story of his own life. He is poor and yet he possesses the earth. He no longer has his own will and yet God Himself does what-ever he requests: "If you ask for anything in my name, + + + Edot~ard Pousset, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~ This phrase is found throughout the Old Testament. u Friendships and human affections can and do exist in those who are consecrated to God by the vows but have not as yet reached that intimate knowledge of Love. Ordinarily these commitments are not very profound and this is for the better for as long as the heart is, in fact, divided between God and creatures. There are other friendships and human affections which are, however, quite differ-ent from those just described. I am speaking of those which have God Himself as their initiative: those where He has made Himself the principle, the bond, and the end. These presuppose the intimate knowledge of Love and they take possession of the whole heart so that there is no division whatsoever between God and creatures. ][ will do it" (Jn 14:14). He seeks only the kingdom of God and yet everything else is given to him over and above this. At this stage joy and the cross are lived as one. He does not talk about it because he knows that he can hardly explain it to himself. Some will see only his suffering; others will not see beyond his surprising free-dom. But his hope knows no limits; he does not see that what he has been given gratuitously should not be given to all. He reveals his secret without telling it: it is to have believed. I do have faith, Lord. Help the little faith I havel 4. 4. 4. £~ten~e and VOLUME 29, 1970 237 cYRIL VOLLERT, S.J. The Interplay of Prayer and Action in Teilhard de Chardin ÷ ÷ ÷ Cyril Vollert, S.J., is a professor of theolob, y at Mar-quette University; Milwaukee,. Wis-consin 53233. REVIEW,FOR RELIGIOUS The theme underlying Teilhard de Chardin's ideas concerning the interplay between prayer and action is well stated in his essay, "The Heart of the Problem." a He wonders why Christianity, with its tremendous power to attract, is not more successful in the modern world. Not only have energetic missionary efforts in Asia, Africa, and elsewhere produced meager results, but the great masses of workers over the earth, as well as most scientists, have found little to interest them in the Church. Teilhard believes that he knows the answer. Any at-tempt at solution must take into account the changes that have marked men's thinking for over a hundred years. We now know that the universe is not static; our cosmos is a cosmogenesis. And man himself is involved in the evolutionary process; mankind is an anthropogenesis. Man is still being shaped, and the human race is heading toward social unification. In the past, religion has sought to perfect man by directing him upward, toward God, and has been little concerned with purely human prog-ress. But men of our time are convinced that they can complete themselves by moving forward. So the vital question is this: is the salvation of man to be achieved by looking above or by looking ahead---or by both to-gether? Failure to face this question squarely results in religious apathy. Teilhard proposes to face it. Why should anyone wish to choose between the Up-ward and the Forward? Teilhard contends that we must not make any such choice. We must combine the two 1 In The Future o] Man (New York: Harper and Row, 1964), pp. 260-69. movements. If Christianity were to ignore the new aspira-tions of mankind, it could not hold its own adherents, much less win over the unconverted. Without human faith and love, Christianity is cold and unattractive to contemporary man. The Christian faith must be intensely interested in the values of the world and of matter, for the simple reason that it is rooted in the Incarnation. In pre-evolutionary ages, Christianity perhaps assigned too subordinate a function to man and the earth. But just as the Incar-nation did not take place until our planet was socially, politically, and psychologically ready for Christ, so now, in the evolutionary perspectives opening up before us, we can see that the kingdom of God will not come until mankind in its anthropogenesis has reached collective maturity. The supernaturalizing Christian Upward must be incorporated into the human Forward. In this way faith in God will recover all its power to attract and convert, for we can believe wholly in God and in the world. We can do this because Christ, Savior and Re-deemer, is carrying evolution both forward and upward to its final goal. Teilhard thoroughly believed in his own program and, while stir a young man, consecrated himself to it: As far as I can, because I am a priest, I would henceforth be the first to become aware of what the world loves, pursues, suffers. I would be the first to seek, to sympathize, to toil; the first in self-fulfilment, the first in self-denial. For the sake of the world I would be more widely human in my sympathies and more nobly terrestrial in my ambitions than any of the world's servants. That is why I have clothed my vows and my priesthood (and it is this that gives me my strength and my happiness) in a determination to accept and to divinize the powers of the earth? Christians have different but complementary voca-tions; they devote themselves in varying degrees of in-tensity to action or to prayer or to both together. God's call, which Teilhard likens to the star of the Magi, "leads each man differently, by a different path, in accord with his vocation. But all the paths which it indicates have this in common: that they lead always upward." a The world, too, has its vocation; it is destined to attain its perfection in the fullness of the incarnate Word, in the cosmic Christ. Teilhard's own vocation was manifested in two truths which God had let him see: the universality of God's magnetism and the intrinsic value of man's undertakings. He was eager to spread far and wide a knowledge of these two truths. And so, on the day after ~Hymn o] the Universe (New York: Harper and Row, 1965), p. 128. 8 The Divine Milieu (New York: Harper, 1960), p. 120. + Prayer and Action VOLUME 29, 1970. 239 ÷ ÷ ÷ Cydl Voll~t, $.]: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 2,4O his final religious profession, in a meditation on his priesthood, he offered his life to God: "And I, Lord God for my (very lowly) part, would wish to be the apostle --and, if I dare say so, the evangelist---of your Christ in the universe." ~ This he regarded as his "special vocation," and he was faithful to it to the day he died. Such a vocation is carried out in action. Teilhard in-sists that all Christians have the duty of building the earth. Even the increase of leisure, fostered by technical. progress, ought to be consecrated to research. Teilhard tried to show that human efforts to promote intellectual, technical, and social advances must bring about the nat-ural conditions of maturity necessary for establishing the kingdom of God. But the urge to action must be directed and sustained by prayer. The Christian must work; but he must Christianize his work. The supernatural con-summation of the world cannot be accomplished by merely natural powers; the world must be sanctified and supernaturalized.5 Therefore a life of prayer and con-templation has a high efficacy, indeed, a "creative power': for the world. Seeing the mystic immobile, crucified or rapt in prayer, some may perhaps think that his activity is in abeyance or has left this earth: they are mistaken. Nothing in the world is more intensely alive and active than purity and prayer, which hang like an unmoving light between the universe and God. Through their serene transparency flow the waves of creadve power, charged with natural virtue and with grace.° The health and integrity of the Church depend on the care exercised by its members in carrying out their functions, which range from worldly occupations to vocations that call for penance or the most sublime contemplation: "All those different roles are necessary." 7 Christians .who devote themselves to prayer have been singled out for the task of carrying the world above its concern for pleasure and enjoyment toward higher goals. They are like miners laboring in the depths of matter; or, to change the figure, they supply the air which their brothers need to breathe. Along with the sick and the suffering, they become "the most active agents in the very process that seems to sacrifice and crush them." s Purity (here understood as the rectitude brought into our lives by the love of God), faith, fidelity, charity, and hope must accompany the most earthly of our actions. But these virtues flower in contemplation ~ Hymn of the Universe, p. 151. s H. de Lubac, S.J., Teilhard de Chardin: The Man and His Mean-~ ing (New York: Hawthorn, 1965), pp. 123 f. O Hymn of the Universe, p. 154. ~ The Divine Milieu, p. 75. ~ L'energie humaine (Paris: Seuil, 1962), p. 64. which, in spite of its apparent immobility, is the highest and most intense form of life.9 In response to God's grace, which is "always on the alert to excite our first look and our first prayer," we are led "to posit intense and continual prayer at the origin of our invasion by the divine milieu, the prayer which begs for the fundamental gift: Lord, that I may see." On saying this, Teilhard at once utters his petition: Lord, we know and feel that You are everywhere around us; but it seems that there is a veil before our eyes. Let the light of Your countenance shine upon us in its universality. May Your deep brilliance light up the innermost parts of the massive obscurities in which we move. And, to that end, send us Your Spirit, whose flaming action alone can operate the birth and achievement of the great metamorphosis which sums up all inward perfection and towards which Your creation yearns: Send forth Your Spirit and they will be created, and You will renew the face of the earth?° Teilhard is quite cognizant of the prayer that is in-herent in the duties of a person's state of life. Such duties, faithfully and well performed, put us in contact with God: Let us ponder over this basic truth till we are steeped in it . God, at his most Vitally active and most incarnate, is not remote from us, wholly apart from the sphere of the tangible; on the contrary, at every moment he awaits us in the activity, the work to be done, which every moment brings. He is, in a sense, at the point of my pen, my pick, my paint-brush, my needle--and my heart and my thought. It is by carrying to its natural completion the stroke, the line, the stitch I am working on that I shall lay hold on that ultimate end towards which my will at its deepest levels tends.'~ However, in addition to the prayer that may be in-volved in our work, explicit prayer is indispensable if our action is to be effective for constructing the kingdom of God. Teilhard is very insistent on this truth. He pgints out that unless we maintain direct contact with God by prayer and the sacraments, "the tide of the di-vine omnipresence, and our perception of it, would weaken until all that was best in our human endeavor, without being entirely lost to the world, would be for us ~niptied of God." But if we safeguard our relation to .God who is encountered in prayer, "there is no need to [ear that the most banal, absorbing, or attractive of oc-cupations should force us to depart from Him." Be-cause of the creation of the universe by God, and par-ticularly in view of the Incarnation, "nothing here below is profane for those who know how to see." Teilhard strongly exhorts us: "Try, with God's help, to perceive ~ H. de Lubac, La pensde religieuse de Pdre Teilhard de Chardin (Paris: Aubier, 1962), p. 318. Io The Divine Milieu, pp. 111 [. v. Hymn oI the Universe, p. 83 f. ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLOME 29; 19~0 241 4- 4- 4- REVIEW, FOR ,RELI~IOU$ the connection-~even physical and natural--which binds your labor with the building of the Kingdom of Heaven." We should never do anything without realizing its constructive value in Christ, and pursuing it with all our might.12 In line with his perception of the harmony between faith and science, Teilhard endeavored to integrate his own prayer and his work. He became increasingly aware that he had to develop in himself and impart to others "the sort of mysticism that makes one seek passionately for God in the heart of every substance and every ac-tion." He saw dearly that "God alone, and no personal effort, can open our eyes to this light and preserve this vision in us." He well understood that the "science of divinizing life calls for the diligent co-operation of every form of activity . It needs the sacraments, and prayer, and the apostolate, and study." 18 If we wish the divine milieu to grow around us, we must steadfastly "guard and nourish all the forces of union, of desire, and of prayer that grace offers us." 1~ Success cannot crown so great an enterprise unless prayer issues in work: "I know that the divine will will only be revealed to me at each moment if I exert my-self to the utmost." 1, The Christian must preserve his union with God by prayer; but he must also respond to all the demands of grace: "To win for himself a little more of the creative energy, he tirelessly develops his thought, dil

Issue 66.1 of the Review for Religious, 2007. ; ' Spiritu:alilty Perspectives Community Tod:ay~s Saint QUARTERLY 66.1 2007 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the" holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul Vl said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: ~w.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious - 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ RO. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2007 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. eview for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff l~ebmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell 0SB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Clare Boehmer ASC Martin Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 66.1 2007 contents prisms 4 Prisms 19 spirituality Aging and Christian Spirituality: Joy and Resignation Matthias Neuman OSB explores two challenges of aging, namel.v, the ability to enjoy and the need of resignation. Dreams in Prayer and Discernment Jennifer Constantine Jackson examines the human experience of dreams as one resource from the Lord that can assist us on ¯ the road to spiritual maturity. Reflection/Discussion Questions 3O perspectives Confessions of a Franciscan Ethicist Rende Mirkes O~'S shows how being Franciscan can and does affect the way she does ethics. Review for Religious 40 58 Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue Colleen Mary Mallon OP explores dialogical communion, from the writings of the French Dominican Yves Congar, and reflects upon specific practices of discipleship that promise to deepen communal conversion while offering prophetic witness to a global world. Personal Reflection/Group Discussion community Rose Hoover RC says that being together on the inward journey is a subtly rigorous togetherness not to be missed. 64 An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers Robert Schieler FSC describes his congregation's Holy Week retreat in which three provinces saw a happily workable way to be energetically together as one. 74 today's saint Mother's Quest and Bequest: Theodore Guerin's Sainthood Mary Roger Madden SP provides a historical vignette of her congregation's recently canonized American foundress to show the greatness of her spiritual bequest. departments 90 Scripture Scope: The Bible and the Church 95 Canonical Counsel: Bona Ecclesiastica 101 Book Reviews 66.1 2007 prisms Do I want to be holy? When we ask our-selves the question, the answer would seem to be obvious. Since we believe in God and we want to enjoy life forever with God, we are trying to be holy. Probably many of us would find it a bit pretentious to say that right now we are making the effort to be holy. Why is it so off-putting for us to admit simply that we want to be holy? Trying to be holy sounds, well, sanctimonious. We judge that we are priding ourselves on some-thing we are not. We don't want to be people setting ourselves down at the head of the table in Jesus' parable, only to be told to take a lower place. All too often we think that to be holy includes all the things that we are not: unfail-ingly pious, always prayerful, never offensive, and ever patient and long-suffering. Perhaps images like the eyes-rolled-up to heaven, the hands folded, and the pallid face featured in many portraits of our saints hold us off from identifying with holiness. We likely need a reevaluation of what it means to be holy. God is the holy One. If God is by nature holy, then we are not naturally holy. But God calls us to be holy and empowers us to "be holy as I am holy." In the sacramental life, we identify these key empowerments in baptism, confirmation, and eucharist. God the Father, in the identifying of us with his Son and in the gift-ing of their Spirit, has truly made us sons and daughters. Being part of God's family--the ones adopted in Jesus' name--we merit being called holy ones, the saints as St. Paul frequently refers to his fellow Christians in the various churches to whom he writes his letters. Review for Religqous We might believe that we are called to be holy, in fact, that we are children of God. But what we are and how we act might be two different things. What does it mean for us to act like holy persons? Jesus is our way that we come to understand and live a divine holiness. Holiness, above all, is rooted in our love relationship with our triune God in Jesus. By watching Jesus in action, we discover how we are to live and act holily. Let's take some examples that we ordinarily do not associate with holiness. Jesus lives his holiness in his presence and in his participation in parties such as the Cana wedding feast and in banquets of all kinds, sometimes held in houses of those consid-ered public sinners such as Matthew and Zacchaeus and at other times in the homes of his pious "betters"--like Simon the Pharisee. Holiness, we see, is made real and strengthened in enjoying life, like parties and banquets. In all kinds of circumstances, Jesus expresses holiness in breaking the rules--usually surrounding Sabbath obser-vances- because of his compassion and love. Jesus, we see, teaches us that holiness is not to be identified just with "keeping the rules." Priests and Levites--good peo-ple- kept the rules of not contaminating themselves by helping a wounded traveler, but it was the foreigner, a false-believing Samaritan, who acted holily. Jesus says that we must act as one who loves neighbor as oneself. Jesus shows us that holiness grows in the conversations and interactions with all different classes of people, sometimes with people who think quite differently from him--the ways of Jesus' ministering in the gospels. Jesus shows us that dealing with others who think differently from us is a part of our being holy. Simply said, to live holily, as Jesus shows us, is to live an everyday kind of life, graced always by the love of God and love of neighbor. David L. Fleming SJ 66.1 2007 MATTHIAS NEUMAN Aging and Christian Spirituality: Joy and Resignation spirituality Aging, that universal human experience, is one of life's great mysteries. Why the various stages in the human life cycle: infancy, childhood, ado-lescence, adulthood, and old age? Why should human life be like that? Why do we grow up and then slowly break down, piece by piece, until death comes for us? Our creative God could have arranged matters differently. But the real-ity remains that human life, unless tragically cut short, ends with old age, dissolution, and death-- years that people often find extremely troubling. Old age is where aging really hits home. Aging, especially the last phase, "old age," has become a major social issue for many Western countries. The graying of populations looms in many of them as a social and economic issue. The recent report of the President's Council on Bioethics, Taking Care: Ethical Caregiving in our Aging Society, puts it pointedly: Matthias Neuman OSB has written for us often. His pres-ent address is Our Lady of Grace Monastery; 1414 Southern Avenue; Beech Grove, Indiana 46107. Review for Religious There is no question that we are on the threshold of a "mass geriatric society.," a society of more long-lived individuals than ever before in human history. For this great gift of longer and healthier life for ourselves and our loved ones we are, and should be, enormously grateful . At the same time, however, there are good reasons to be concerned about the human and moral shape that a mass geriatric society will take, especially if the "price" many people pay for the added years of healthier life is a period of protracted debility, demen-tia, and dependence stacked up at the end before they eventually die. Such a reshaping of the life cycle will create enormous challenges for nearly every family and for the entire society.! The Catholic ethicist Daniel Callahan pinpoints some of those troubling issues. By 2030 almost 20 percent of the American population will be over 65; the combined costs of Medicare and Medicaid will double; close to half of those over 85 will suffer from some form of dementia. He says: "The projected long-term institutional costs alone, quite apart from medical expenses, will be astronomical.''2 Aging also appears as an increasing pastoral care issue for the church. The 1999 document of the Pontifical Council for the Laity, "The Dignity of Older People and Their Mission in the Church and in the World," says that the increasing number of aging people in the developed coun-tries of the world will cause some significant shifts in the style and opportunities for pastoral care: The ecclesial community, for its part, is called to respond to the great participation which older people would like to have ih the church by turning to account the "gift" they represent as witnesses of the tradition of fai.th, teachers of the wisdom of life, and workers of charity. [The Church] must therefore reexamine its apostolate on behalf of older people, and open it up to their participation and collaboration.3 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian Spirituality Aging doqs not need o be a series of losses th'a can only be eiid ¢ed::i In this article I explore two challenges that aging pres-ents for Christian spirituality. These challenges touch individuals, families, parishes, and the church as a whole. Aging does not need to be a series of losses that can only be endured. Indeed, it offers genuine possibilities for spiritual growth. I came to be interested in this topic for several rea-sons. Seven years ago my father fell on some ice and broke his hip. He never really recovered from that, and spent his last two years in a nursing home. In those two years my parents, my sisters, and I talked much about the reality of nursing-home life, about how many things aging compels the elderly and their families to give up. A year after my father died, my mother fell inside her house and broke her hip. She recovered much better than he did. She had observed the nursing home firsthand and had no desire to go there: "The smells and the food would kill me for sure." Her great effort to do her therapy and avoid the nursing home enabled her (at age 86) to finish the rehabilitation program three weeks early. She was able to return home, but my sisters and I felt she needed a watchful presence around her more than a duplex could-provide. So she moved into a home for the elderly, and Ibecame chaplain for the Benedictine sisters who run the home. My mother and I walk together frequently, our conversations returning now and then to the trials and opportunities of aging. At ninety-two she feels them acutely. I must face my own aging too. At sixty-four, I have had to accept it for some time now. In the last twenty years, I have given up physically competitive sports; my Review for Religious football, baseball, and basketball gear were given away long ago. I still have golf and the treadmill, but the clock is ticking there too. For the last three years, back prob-lems have cut short my summer golf. What encouraged me more than anything else to do some spiritual reflection on aging was a little pam-phlet titled The Grace of Old Age by Father Vincent M. O'Flaherty SJ. He.wrote a series of reflections while a patient in a nursing home himself. His view of aging is special, and he provides some excellent thoughts on the spirituality of aging. Here is one: "When I look at my tensions from the point of view of detachment, I see that each tension is a fear of losing the power to enjoy one of the goods of this life. As a grace, aging is a slow death of the power of enjoying this world.''4 That last cuts deep. But, as Father O'Flaherty adds, it also makes more spiritual growth possible. But wherein does that spiritual growth consist? Throughout Christian history, old age has not stimulated a lot of sustained reli-gious thinking.5 In developed Western countries, that is due in part to the fact that, until the latter part of the 20th century, most people did not live to old age as we know it. In 1790 the U.S. population over age 65 comprised only two percent. By 1980 that was eleven percent, and in 2004 it was approaching fifteen. The President's Council on Bioethics says that the fastest-growing age group in the U.S. is "the oldest of the old (people age 85 or over).''6 In the last quarter century, the increasing percentage of older people has created much investigation into all aspects of growing older. But there is a counterbalance to this increasingly aging population. As the number of older persons in the U.S. increases, the inherent value of any one of them decreases. Previously the elderly's very "scarcity" was a value. A household with an elderly per-son, with someone who could tell the family's history, was 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian Spirituality considered honored and blessed. In our own day people are more likely to worry about how many older people there are and how they are going to be cared for. Both the joys and resignations, " of old agk can be seen~ hs ways of deepenin~ g onr . relationship with~ God. Perspective People generally have two ways of considering the onset of old age. Both appear in scientific as well as common thought, and both are mentioned by the Pontifical Commission's document "The Dignity of Older People.-7 The first way is to anticipate joys, to expect that each age possesses its own blessings, its own joys and achieve-ments. The last years of life offer particular graces: the joy of grandchildren, lessening responsibility, time for relaxation, oppor-tunity to do some things you always wanted to do. The Christian tradition often encouraged this, considering old age a blessing. The Bible provides some examples: "Gray hair is a crown of glow" (Pr 16:31). "You shall rise before the aged, and defer to the old" (Lv 19:32). Older persons are presumed wise, from their great store of life experience. A second way to deal with aging is resignation. This seems the predominant way. People work at accepting the inevitability of aging, and its conclusion. Aging always involves loss. People must give up many things along the way. At each stage of life, valuable and dear things are left behind. Resignation includes a fearful looking ahead to possible situations that one would rather not face. The fear of helplessness, of being a burden to others, remains Review for Religious extremely troubling for many people. With resignation, one tries to be ready for inevitable losses without becom-ing angry about them. There is a whole body of literature on "disengagement theory.''8 As they advance in age, most people probably experience some joy about their future and some resignation regarding things they fear. All of us have to learn the proper proportions for ourselves. This is a matter of our religious response. Both the joys and resignations of old age can be seen as ways of deepening our relationship with God. Enjoying Joys As people grow older, they do not lose their right to joy in life. They can still partake of joys and pleasures, simple though they may be. The church's teaching on pleasure and joy has not always been as positive as it might have been.9 From the perspective of Vatican Council II, people are beginning to see life's legitimate joys as our ini-tial sharing in the resurrection. A nursing-home resident make this point directly: "Despite pain, I am experiencing joy. If that is so, I am experiencing God. I am delighted to wake up in the morning, to have another day to experi-ence God in joy. The simplest things--the weather, the barren trees of winter, the sports scores, reading, staying in touch with families and friends--all give me joy. In all I find a taste of God. Yes, it is tough to grow old, but I have found joy that I did not know in my youth.''1° Some of the sharper slants of disengagement theory would urge the elderly to disengage themselves from any joys that keep them attached to this world. But a Christian spirituality would encourage older persons to enjoy what they still can. Indeed, other scholars of aging would assert that older people who are not too old can develop abili-ties that they never knew they possessed. Studies suggest that the brain's left and right hemispheres become better 66.1 2007 Neuman * Aging and Christian Spirituality integrated during middle age, making way for improved creativity in one's older years. Age also seems to dampen some negative emotions, making it easier to get rid of anger.1~ My own mother in her eighties developed a bet-ter attitude toward death than she ever had previously. It happens to others as well: An editor I know at a New York publishing company provides a case in point. He was in his sixties and con-templating retirement when he realized that he had finally matured into his job. Despite a sharp intellect and a passion for excellence, this man had spent much of his career alienating people with brusque, critical comments and a lack of sensitivity. Now . . . he was finally beginning to master interpersonal communica-tion. As his emotional development caught up to his intellectual development, he morphed from a brilliant but brittle loner into a mentor and a mediator of con-flicts . His best work was still ahead of him.12 This potential to be creative and surprising is some-thing that those who work with the elderly need to be more aware of. Often they do not give aging people a chance. Sometimes the elderly do not give themselves a chance. Learning new abilities, arriving at positions we could never previously attain, constitutes a great joy of one's older years. The Vatican document "The Dignity of Older People and Their Mission in the Church and in the World" urges that the legitimate charisms of older people be recognized. These gifts can be real blessings for the entire church.~3 The charism of disinterestedness, the ability to give some-thing or to give of themselves without any thought of return, is a special gift that older people can share with younger generations. Another charism of the elderly is memory, in particular carrying the past forward and creat-ing a shared identity for a family, a parish, or some other group. Similarly the charism of interdependence, the ability Review for Religious to overcome individualism and self-seeking and enter into genuine interactions with others, becomes very specific in the lives of the elderly. In many ways elderly people have a need of being interdependent. Their deeply felt awareness can teach :., ,-,, -. - o o., :::c~umauitz~te'sloysi~ndpteasures. nity, and integrity in being old and being old in public. That witness amazed many people, and there is much we still need to learn from it.~4 Let us consider some of the joys that are specific to old age. One is reminiscence--thinking back to the happy and satisfying events of one's life. That can surely be a genuine joy. My mother has often said that the vacations my family took together give her much to remember and delight in. (For twenty years we went on a week's vacation each summer.) Another joy as a person ages is to anticipate the contributions one can make by instructing a younger generation and see them grow to maturity, surely a joy for one who looks back on a lengthy teaching career. Father O'Flaherty reminds us that certain joys, although genuine, are limited: "Part of the confusion over the question of happiness in old age comes from a rela-tive definition of fun. Thus we might ask whether living in Sun City is fun. If we look at it from the point of view of entertainment, Sun City has everything. But we should not exaggerate fun in old age; it peaks out with grandma knitting in a rocking chair. Neither a young nor a mature man would be attracted by the fun in Sun City.''s 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian Spirituality Christian spirituality invites the aging to have a deeper appreciation of human life's joys and pleasures. There are created joys appropriate to each stage of life. These should be identified and savored, even or especially by the elderly. Here Christian spirituality can take a hint from Jewish spirituality: A characteristic attitude is taken up by the Talmud towards the pleasures of life. Recognizing that what has been created by God for man's enjoyment must be essen-tially good, it not only counsels men to indulge in them but even condemns those who abstain from them. The rabbis assume the standpoint that God wants his creatures to be happy, and it must therefore be sinful deliberately to shun physical happiness and material well-being.~6 Vghile traditional Christian spirituality would allow a much more positive place for asceticism, s011 there is room in Christian spirituality for legitimate joys and pleasures at each stage of life. This means acknowledging and delighting in the pleasures (a sunny day, an exciting sporting event, a glass of wine). Then, going a step fur-ther, it means giving praise to God for these gifts of joy. Enjoyment is a part of God's providence for us. Facing Resignations Enjoying what pleasures one can in old age is part of Christian spirituality. Nonetheless, at the center of a spirituality of aging remains the reality of facing the many resignations life demands. No matter how great the joys are that elderly people may delight in, acts of resigna-tion are perhaps unavoidably greater. Giving up various pleasures of life is a never-ending part of aging: driving at night, strenuous or agile physical movement, certain well-liked foods, traveling to visit distant friends. The list goes on and on. To recall clearly something you have loved to do for Review for Religious twenty, thirty, or forty years and say "No more" both scares and humbles. So, as Christians, how do we deal with these resignations in ourselves and in others? First we admit that they are difficult and frightening. People coping with them should be patient with themselves and with others. Instant or pat answers like "Christ gave up everything, so should you" can do more harm than good. Elizabeth Kiibler-Ross showed five stages that people may experience as death comes closer: denial, anger, bargain-ing, depression, and acceptance.~7 These may be present when people have to use a walker all the time for mobility or have to enter a nursing home. We can help people to acknowledge the pain and loss they feel; denial does not help. We can be there with them, what Sheila Cassidy has called a "Stabat Mater" spirituality, a simple, silent, stand-with-them presence.~8 After each acceptance of loss, people may feel a loss of integrity. To their mind they will seem to be "less," "needier," a "bother" to others. The helping spiritual task assists them to regain a connectedness with people and things, to help them see that their life still possesses a fundamental meaning and purpose, that their own inner life will always have value in sight of God and for those who love them. We think back to Father O'Flaherty's comment: "Aging is a slow death of the power of enjoying this world." In our later years, aging is dominated by physical and mental decline and the giving up of many pleasures. There is also the fear of facing significant pain; that takes serious resignation as well. Father O'Flaherty puts it well again: "Modern medicine has increased my tensions. I am on 'their' side when they prolong my pleasures, but I classify them among nay enemies when they propose to prolong my pains . My fear is that they would lengthen my three hours on the cross to six.''~9 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian Spirituality Vatican Council II's Constitution on the Church has some fine insights about offering our lives to God as spiritual sacrifices: "For all [the laity's] works, prayers, and apostolic undertakings, family and married life, daily work, relaxation of mind and body, if they are accom-plished in the Spirit--indeed even the hardships of life if patiently borne--all these become spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ" (§34). The chal-lenge is thus to see each resignation as a spiritual sacrifice. In their later years people offer their life's troubles. Their fragile and failing bodies and minds become gifts pleasing to God. Father O'Flaherty notes: "'vVhen a man gets old and his mind gets foggy, he cannot formulate flowery prayers. At the beginning of the countdown (age 65) he should start saying the prayer of simple presentation so that he will be in the habit of using it when his faculties are not keen. Just present yourself to God . Push your wheel-chair into the chapel and show your broken hip to our Lord. This throws the burden of giving you a cross on Almighty God. It is the resigned way of praying, with full resignation to the will of God.''2° " When people are young, faith shows itself in a lot of activity, vision, building. But in old age faith turns much more around seeking the peace of God. In facing the res-ignations of aging, giving up and faith are almost indistin-guishable. Sometimes all the elderly can do is bring their broken bodies as their spiritual sacrifice; that is their way of building the kingdom of God. The Constitution on the Church notes, too, that suf-fering can be a way to holiness. "In a special way also, those who are weighted down by poverty, infirmity, sick-ness and other hardships should realize that they are united to Christ, who suffers for the salvation of the world" (§41). In old age, that suffering becomes very real Review for Religion, s and sometimes omnipresent in aches and pains, some-times very severe pain. One of the challenges that aging presents to Christian spirituality is coming to believe and assert that pain in old age becomes a genuine prayer. In dealing with the many resignations of aging, we are always working toward that confession of Christ in the garden: "Not my will, but yours be done" (Mt 26:39). From a Christian perspective, that is the result of every resignation: it becomes a holy resignation, the offering of our lives as a spiritual sacrifice. Notes ~ President's Council on Bio-Ethics, 7~;king Care Ethical Caregiving in Our Aging Society (2005), pp. xvii-xviii. 2 "Curing, Caring, and Coping," America (30 January 2006): 13. 3 Pontifical Council for the Laity, "The Dignity of Older People and their Mission in the Church and in the Vqorld," in Autumn Blessings: Living Old Age in Faith (Little Sisters of the Poor Publications Office, n.d.), p. 43. 4 Vincent M. O'Flaherty SJ, The Grace of Old Age (Franciscan Herald Press, 1976), p. 31. s An overview of this topic may be perused in K. Brynolf Lyon, Toward a Practical Theology of Aging (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985), "Aging and the Christian Theology Tradition," pp. 31-53. 6 Taking Care, p. 7. 7 Autumn Blessings, pp. 15-16. 8 Lyon, Toward a Practical Theology, pp. 64-66. ~ Jacques-Marie Pohier, "Pleasure and Christianity.," in Franz B6ckle and Jacques-Marie Pohier (eds.), Sexuality in Contempo~w~[y Catholicism (New York: Seabury Press, 1976), pp. 103-109. m Frank Moan SJ, "Prayer and Pain," America (19-26 June 2006): 19. ~ Gene Cohen, "The Myth of the Midlife Crisis," Newsweek (17 January 2006), p. 82. 12 Cohen, p. 12. ~s Autumn Blessings, pp. 18-20. ~4 Robert Proctor, "A Farewell to Remember: \~That John Paul II's Death Taught Us," Commonweal (3 June 2005): 19-25. ~s O'Flaherty, Grace, p. 20. 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian SpMtuality 1~ A. Cohen, Eve~yman's Ta&md (New York: Schocken Books, 1975), p. 230. ~7 Elizabeth Kiibler-Ross, On Death and Dying (Touchstone, 1969, 1997). ~s Sheila Cassidy, Sharing the Darkness (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1991), p. 66. ~90'Flaherty, Grace, p. 17. :o O'Flaherty, Grace, p. 55. via dolorosa it is their sorrow I bear yet they will never know how they have been beaten like a hanging rug stripped bare they are unaware of their nakedness and this is their anguish to thirst and not know why to bleed and not see the wounds Lou Ella Hickman IWBS Review for Religious JENNIFER CONSTANTINE JACKSON Dreams in Prayer and Discernment /~lthe past forty years, writings on Christian spiritu-ity, particularly on prayer and discernment, have given renewed attention to dreams (Doran 498). This article elucidates some movements in this area of study and then invites spiritual directors and discerners to make use of them in Ignatian spirituality. Dreams represent a way of true responsiveness, especially for the laity, to the church's call to an authentic obedience, an obedience that is at all times discerning and fulfilling God's will in the world (Lumen gentium, §37). Some of the earliest contributions to this recent attention to dreams are John A. Sanford's Dreams: God's Forgotten Language (1968) and Morton Kelsey's Dreams: The Dark Speech of the Spirit (1968). The key insight that begins with these works is captured in 1978 in Kelsey's Dreams: A Way to Listen to God (p. 9) and again in 1991 in his reflections on his teaching at the University of Notre Dame: "As I listened to my dreams, I found a presence Jennifer Constantine Jackson, a teacher, is currently a student of theology and Ignatian spirituality. Her address is 333A Harvard Street, Apt. 1A; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02139. 66.1 2007 Jackson * Dreams in Prayer and Discernment wiser than I trying to guide me through my difficulties to wholeness, a wholeness that was possible only when I con-tinued to be in touch with the infinitely loving Holy One" (God, Dreams, and Revelation, p. 213). Dreams take place within one's relationship with God. They invite listening in a process that seems to be initiated and sustained not by the dreamer but by God. Kelsey says that the current ambiguous, even fearful attitude about dreams in Christian spirituality is very dif-ferent from that of the first millennium of Christianity: "The early Christian church viewed the dream as one of the most significant and most important ways in which God revealed his will to human beings . We find this view in the Old Testament, in the New Testament, and in the church fathers up to the time of Aquinas" (God, Dreams, p. 17). Kelsey and others cite many church fathers acknowledging dreams as helpful for growing in relation-ship with God. In his response to the Epicureans' denial of this possibility, Tertullian "specificallysuggested that dreams have various levels of interpretation, and finally he asked, 'Now, who is such a stranger to human experi-ence as not sometimes to have perceived some truth in dreams?'" (109). Kelsey also cites the fathers' reservations concerning dreams in the life of faith. Clement details what must be the formation of one who interprets dreams (106), Origen says that evil spirits can enter dreams (108), and Gregory emphasizes the dangers for those not aware of the illusory nature of dreams (142). It is clear from these cautionary words that there was a shared under-standing that dreams must be discerned within faith. Concerning attentiveness to the needs of Christians today, Kelsey's emphasis on "wholeness" seems to be echoed in The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality. In its entry on "dreams," James L. Empereur SJ cites "the sig-nificance of dream work for spirituality and personal inte- Review for Religious gration" as "based on the conviction that every dream is in the service of wholeness through the integration of the inner and outer lives" (296). At the close of Empereur's four-page entry, the reader still wonders how the "service of wholeness" intentionally involves a participation in the life of the Trinity on the part of those involved in the work of dreams. In Spirituality in Depth: Essays in Honor of Sister Irene Dugan RC, Michael Cooper SJ's reflections on "A Spirituality of Balance" provide some assistance. Cooper says: "At the end of the 'discourse of antitheses,' the Beatitudes in Matthew, Jesus sums up all he has just said by exhorting his disciples, 'You must, therefore, be perfect, just as your heavenly Abba is perfect (Mt 5:48)'" (57). Contrary to the "strict and demanding tone" that the Greek word telios has often taken on, Cooper says that "the actual Greek New Testament meaning of telios is whole, complete, balanced!" (57). Herein lies a key to actualizing "that divine balance which lies at the heart of his gospel call to relationship and discipleship" (59). Highlighting the early communities devoted to religious life in the church, Cooper shows how an attentiveness to dreams in a community's faith life could contribute to this "divine balance": The hermits--male and female--lived alone but never too far from each other, so that they could cry out and be heard in case of threat or illness. Because of the isolation and sensory deprivation, some underwent the equivalent of today's Jungian analysis as their dreams and halluci-nations brought their demons and forgotten memories to the surface. Those who survived this descent into their own netherworlds and who were deeply grounded in their own humanity and in their own Christian faith eventually gained renown as wisdom figures. Individuals would come out to the desert to seek spiritual counsel and often stayed for weeks or months as they pursued their own spiritual conversion. (59) 66.1 2007 Jackson ¯ Dreams in Prayer and Discernment For those committed to religious life in the first centuries of Christianity, the fruits of attentiveness to dreams could be pursued successfully only through grace and only if the purpose was life in Christ. As Kelsey notes, this very purpose brought St. TMr~se of Lisieux spiritual consola-tion through her own dream near the end of her short life (God, Dreams, 164). Are these matters relevant to Ignatian spiritual direc-tors and discerners today? In a 1979 series of lectures on For those committed. to religifus life in thee first centuries of Christi~nity)_ the fruits, of attent, iveness to dreams could.~be pursued, Successfully only through grace only, if the .purpose. was life in,Chris "Jungian psychology and contemporary Christian spiritual-ity," published in Review for Religious, Robert Doran SJ noted that, reserva-tions about Jungian psychology notwith-standing, "there is much that we not only can, but indeed must, learn [from Jung] in developing both a theology and an ascesis of spiri-tual transformation in the context of the contemporary world" (499). Working in the tradition of Bernard Lonergan SJ, and noting as well Karl Rahner sJ'S work in Ignatian spirituality, Doran provides an essential guide especially in the matter of dreams and discernment. Doran found himself more and more convinced that "a psychological understanding of the development and flow-ering of human affectivity., is pertinent to our spiritual self-understanding" (857). Both spirituality ("grace, the Review for Religious supernatural, self-denial, the following of Christ" [858]) and psychology are involved in the "realm of interiority," which is also the reahn of dreams and desire (500). "It is the task of spiritual theology," he says, "to mediate these two conceptual worlds [spirituality and psychology], the one with the other, by taking its stand in interior experi-ence, which is the dimension to which both sets of con-cepts refer if they are talking about anything real" (858). Doran emphasizes such a task because of what he has noticed as two severe problematic positions concerning the relation of spirituality and psychology. The first is "the reduction of spirituality to psychology" (857), and the second, "a tendency, once, perhaps, pronounced in Christian spirituality, [and] still to be found," divorces "spirituality from psychology so completely that discern-ment itself becomes impossible . Such an orientation, when put into practice, leads to a split consciousness and a compartmentalized life" (858). The tendency toward this second extreme, he thinks, is because of an ambiguity concerning, in particular, the work of Carl Jung. Here lies Doran's important contri-bution. He precisely identifies Jung's contributions to an Ignatian discernment of spirits, and he shows clearly where Jung failed to be true to his own scientific method. How Jung contributes to spirituality, he says, is rather by "helping us to recognize inordinate projections and disoriented affections, than in orienting us positively to the God of Christian faith and to Christ"; for, in this area of faith, "Jung, I find, is quite deficient, and his thought derails him from the appropriate orientation to the real-ity of God" (858). Doran emphasizes that, if it is clear where Jung's thought fails, Jung's con(ributions can be much more fruitfully employed. And so he elaborates with a special concern for how a false appropriation of Jung can seriously affect an authentic discernment of spirits: 66.1 2007 Jackson ¯ Dreams in Prayer and Discernment Jung's theological ambiguities, and the alternative inter-pretations and evaluations that are offered of his work, are symptomatic of an underlying spiritual conflict that can be mediated only in the context of the dialectic of grace and of sin, of the standards of Christ and of Satan. David Burrell has indicated correctly that one cannot fail to meet God if one goes on the inner journey to individuation. But one will also meet much that is not God and that is even opposed to God. Not only does Jung not help one to discriminate these forces as they operate in the psyche, but he also contributes to and even encourages the confusion that can be experienced in such moments that call for discernment, and thus mires one in the conflictual forces that wage an ultimate battle in the depths of one's psyche. Jung's work, if left uncriticized, leads one into a psychological cul-de-sac that can assume demonic proportions. (499) Jung sees the issue of good and evil as something to be reconciled within the self, rather than acknowledging that the problem of evil remains and is not within our capacity to resolve. The only. solution can come from redemption, and redemption can come only from God, and God's exis-tence, knowledge, ~nd goodness are offered to us to be accepted or rejected: If we accept it, [it] will involve us in a whole new area of growth and transformation, an area which we would not even know in any explicit way if God had not come to meet us. This distinct area of development is related to our cognitional and mora.1 development. It is not the product of our knowing and our choosing. It is not something that we vainly imagine, or that we produce by wishful thinking. Rather, it is offered to our knowl-edge and our freedom as a gift. (501) Our acceptance of this gift means we are in the realm of "faith, which Lonergan defines as 'the eye of love,' the eye of the love that is ours, that is the atmosphere in which we live, when we know ourselves as uncondition- Review for Religious ally loved by, and rooted in, the love that is God's alone" (501). Any true attentiveness to dreams must take place in this context, where, as Rahner knew well in the tradition of Aquinas, "even in the direct vision of God, God will remain for us an incomprehensible mystery" (858). Now more than ever in history, says Doran with Rahner and Lonergan in the tradition of Ignatius, Christians long to see God and to know that God is the mystery that engulfs them and also to know what they are knowing and feeling. This, says Doran, involves not only self-transcendence, "an accepting of God's offer of both salvation and vocation," but also self-appropriation, which "is a matter of self-knowledge, of self-discovery, of self-understanding" in this acceptance (504) and which also constitutes for the Christian a commitment to prayer and discernment. He says that some factors of modern life make this self-appropriation necessary. His reason for seeing dreams as an important component in prayer and discernment, especially the discernment of spirits, is that they involve feelings, and, applying Lonergan's thought in the tradition of Ignatius, he says: To name one's feelings is to discover the dynamic images, the symbols, that are associated with them. To have insight into one's feelings is to understand the symbolic association. To tell one's stoW is to narrate the course of one's elemental symbolizing. And where does one's elemental symbolizing occur in its purest form, untainted by the biases that, in waking life, can lead us to distort our stow? The place . . . is in our dreams. It is in the dream that we first are conscious, and it is in the dream that we find a "stow" going for-ward that we cannot distort without being aware that we are doing so. If we want to know our "story"--the story of insight, the story of judgment, the stoW of decision, and the stoW of prayer--we can find it in our dreams. There is a psychic conversion that puts us into contact with that stoW. It affects us deeply once it has 66.1 2007 Jackson ¯ Dreams in Prayer and Discernment occurred. For it enables us to judge ourselves in our waking life as authentic or inauthentic in our pursuit of understanding, in our seeking of truth, in our decisions, and in our search for God. (510) Dreams offer one way of being attentive to this mystery that is God. The dreams from the lives of the saints come to mind, and their careful, caring, detached attentiveness to them serves as a model for all Christians committed to a life of prayer and discernment. Since a way is clear for an authentic use of Jung's con-tributions concerning dreams, how such contributions can be employed in the service of prayer and discern-ment should be regularly considered and shared. Maureen Dreams offeron way of being at tentiVe . to this mystery that i God.:. Conroy RSM attends to this question and begins to answer it (by reflect-ing on anima and animus in relation to desolation) in the final pages of her book where she reflects on contemporary issues in the ministry of spiri-tual direction (236-238). First and perhaps most important in aiding "the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attach-ments" (SpEx ~5), dreams can invite people to notice whether anything other than God is at the center of their life. Dreams brought to discernment can serve as personal parables, offered intimately by the Lord for the discerner to explore. Conroy gives instances where discerners on their own initiative mentioned dreams in speaking of their prayer difficulties. In one case, the dream helped the discerner realize that she was "playing God" by try-ing to control the events of her life at the time (182-183). In another case, the dreamer felt wounded by someone he may have been trying to substitute for God, a situa- Review for Religious tion causing unrecognized angers inside him (232). Both Conroy and William Barry SJ (God and You, 52-53) note that such emotions can block prayer. The dreams, then, would be ways that the Holy Spirit invites us to bring our lives to Christ. Kelsey reminds us that dreams come as "receptions"; in the New Testament, visitations are generally received with some fear--and with the message "Don't be afraid" (173). Dreams may offer the gift of spiritual consolation. In the final chapter of his Weeds among the Wheat, Thomas Green SJ describes a woman's dream after the death of her husband, a dream that is clearly a spiritual consolation for her (163-164). In the "afterglow" of the consolation, "it seemed to her that this experience of God's love, of confident hope in bereavement, could not be merely for herself alone, and that it must be the Lord's intention that she write about it and thus provide hope and strength to others similarly bereaved" (165). As Kelsey recounts the dream of St. Thdr~se of Lisieux (God, Dreams, 164), it is clear that her dream, too, was a gift of consolation from the Lord. Dreams can beg contemporary pray-ers to be listen-ers. Attending to dreams requires making time for listen-ing, and, in a culture where people are not easily "hit over the head" with Scripture (Shannon 8), dreams can teach us how to be more receptive to God's word. "Authentic silence," Shannon says, "is pregnant with words that will be born at the right time" (3). Authentic listening is con-nected to authentic vision; both are arts we need to cul-tivate if we wish to be open to the Holy Spirit. As Jules Toner SJ says in his commentary on being open to the Holy Spirit in the Spiritual Exercises, "there is a factor in openness to the Holy Spirit which . . . is closely related to readiness to seek counsel . Sometimes, even with-out our noticing it, one or other of [our] prejudgments 66.1 2007 Jackson ¯ Dreams in Prayer and Discernment 28 can play a major role in blinding us to the evidence for the decision to which the Holy Spirit is leading us" (96). Being open to the "evidence" of our dreams, and pray-ing for this openness, are authentic ways of becoming genuine listeners and persons of vision in every aspect of our lives. Dreams also can teach us to trust in the Lord. With dreams as with other data from our lives that we bring to discernment or direction, there are times when we simply cannot see and do not have the answers. The data of a dream may simply be too confusing or unclear. At these times discerners must wait and trust in the Lord. A renewed attention to dreams in Christian prayer and discernment is a way of true responsiveness, especially for laypersons, to the church's call to an authentic obedience. Thomas Green says that "religious congregations' ideas of common life and obedience have often been distorted in such a way as to canonize the annihilation of personality" (38). In our day, prayerful exploring of dreams may be unique expressions of the life of the Spirit in the church. This can be a new way for the laity to participate more integrally in the life of the church, a wonderful oppor-t- unity for a new level of sharing gifts. At the same time, we continue to be called to greater participation in the life of Christ, who Willingly took the cross so that we might share in his resurrection. If a greater attentiveness to dreams in prayer and discernment is going to achieve anything, may it be to give greater glory to God through a radical participation in the life of him who gave himself for us. Bibliography Barry, William A., SJ. God and You: Prayer as a Personal Relationship. New York: Paulist, 1987. Conroy, Maureen, RSM. The Discer~ting Heart: Discovering a Personal God. Chicago: Loyola, 1993. Review for Religious Cooper, Michael, SJ. "A Spirituality of Balance." In Spirituality in Depth: Essays in Honor of Sister h'ene Dugan RC, ed. Avis Clendenen. New York: Chiron Publications, 2004. Doran, Robert M., SJ. "Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I, II, and III." Review for Religious 38 (1979): 497-510, 742-752, and 857-866 respectively. Empereur, James L., SJ. "Dreams." In The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality, ed. Michael Downey. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993. Green, Thomas H., SJ. Weeds among the Wheat--Disce~vm~ent: Where Prayer and Action Meet. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1984. Kelsey, Morton T. God, Dreams, and Revelation: A Christian Interpretation of Dreams. Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1991. Shannon, William A. Seeking the Face of God. New York: Crossroad, 1988. Toner, Jules, sJ. Discerning God's Will: Ignatius of Loyola's Teaching on Christian Decision Making. St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1991. Reflection/Discussion Questions 1. What does it mean for me to listen to my dreams? 2. Have I had the experience of a dream influencing a significant change or decision in my life? What were the circumstances? 3. Can I relate to the statement "Dreams may offer the gift of spiritual consolation"? If so, let me review the experience. 66.1 2007 RENEE MIRKES Confessions of a Franciscan Ethicist perspectives Confessions are never easy. Typically, the stage is set by a .collage of eye-openers. In my case, the events that propelled me headlong into this pub-lic disclosure are interlaced with the common thread of what-it-means-to-be-a-Franciscan. First, some while ago, a new acquaintance of mine innocently asked, with clearly spoken ital-ics, "So, what's it like to be a Franciscan ethi-cist?" Second, for the last fifteen years or more I, together with all the members of my religious congregation, have been encouraged to immerse myself in, and be formed by, not only the ideals and vision of St. Francis of Assisi, but also the eponymous religious tradition fathered by him. And, third, while reading several months ear-lier Cardinal Ratzinger's 1996 address critiqu-ing moral relativism, I was revisited by an old uneasiness.~ I kept asking myself: Are you suffer- Ren6e Mirkes OFS, a Franciscan" Sister of Christian Charity, is ethics director at Paul Vl Institute; 6901 Mercy Road; Omaha, Nebraska 68106. Review for Religious ing from some kind of Franciscan schizophrenia or what? My difficulty, in a nutshell, was this. From one side, I was perfectly at peace with the fact that new pope's exposition confirmed me in the way I help my clients, students, and readers to identify the fallacies of moral subjecfivism. But, from another side, I was unsettled by realizing that my way, like the pope's, was not Franciscan in approach but Dominican and Thomistic. The first incident urges me to confess--t0 acknowl-edge- that until I was questioned I honestly never thought of making a practical connection between being an ethicist and being a Franciscan. The second experience encourages me to confess--t0 declare my si,l or failing--that I have dragged my feet when expressly recalling how Franciscan spirituality actually shapes the here-and-now manner in which I "do" ethics. The third episode prompts me to confess--t0 admit my belief--that Franciscans and Dominicans can learn a .lot from each other, specifically from the charisms of their respective traditions. For the details of this tripartite confession (and a summary critique of moral relativism to boot), I invite you to read on. I confess that I previously neglected to give seri-ous thought to whether my being a Franciscan could affect my ethics work. Learning from the lessons of life is a lot about making connections. And making con-nections is all about understanding what things mean. Before facing the question I began.with, I confess that "Franciscan" is not on.e of the adjectives I routinely used to describe my avocation. I was a Catholic ethicist; I was a Christia~? philosopher; I was an ethicist who is a vowed re/igio~ts. But I had just not taken that seemingly small step toward saying--and comprehending what it means to say--that I am a Francisca~z ethicist. In other words, before I did some careful analysis of the matter, being a 66.1 2007 Mirkes ¯ Confessions of a Franciscan Ethicist Franciscan was just a footnote of, rather than organically related to, my work as a vowed religious ethicist. So, wittingly or unwittingly, the questioner forced me to confront a real hiatus in my thinking and action. Why did I fail to connect the dots of being a Christian, an ethicist, and a Franciscan? The longer I thought about it, the more deeply convinced I became that the crux of my problem was not a rift between my avocation and vocation but my intellectual failure to link my Christian and consecrated-life vocations to my Franciscan calling. I was letting my Franciscan identity wither, and so it was not having its full effect on my life and apostolic work. Lacking attention from me, it was overshadowed by my Christian and religious vocations, becoming a dim sem-blance of what it should have been. Suddenly all those instructions I had received before and during my formation began flowing through my mind. To live as a Franciscan is to respond to Christ's call to follow him, to follow the universal call to holiness, the call I received at my baptism, the call to live and think with the church. To be a Franciscan sister is to incarnate the gospel life that inspired Francis to total discipleship through the vows: ."go and sell," "take nothing along," and "deny yourself." Hence, distinct but interrelated com-ponents simultaneously guide my following of Christ. I have dedicated myself to the evangelical call to holiness, to the long church tradition that draws on prayer and the authentic sources of Christian spirituality, on the recent instructions of the church on the vowed life, and on the particular lifestyle proposed by St. Francis of Assisi. There it was: the proper frame within which I could think anew about being Franciscan in my work as a Christian ethicist. And, for me, seeing Franciscan identity against its proper background was to understand, as if for the first time, its close relationship to my Christian and Review for Religious consecrated vocations. Within this frame, I understood why being a Franciscan is essential in my avocation, my vowed life's apostolic mission to be a Catholic ethicist. I confess that I had never given serious thought to the manner in which being Franciscan did, does, and will affect the way I do ethics. I am confessing here my past failure to explicitly recall the leaven of Franciscan values in the dough of my apostolic service. You see, I had forgotten to note their here-and-now effect, not so much on the content and method of my profes-sional activities, but on the style, manner, and spirit in which I do my work. Once I had explicitly adverted to that leaven, however, I realized I had here a virtu- '.tion on.,[rn .,iFra ci can Values ever more ous circle. Frequent meditation on my Franciscan values fostered an ever more Franciscan self. The more spirited my Franciscan heart, the greater likelihood its values-- continual conversion, poverty, humble "minority," and prayer--would be evident to those I serve.2 First, take the Franciscan charism of pove~-ty. Where every consecrated religious takes vows to live as the poor, chaste, and obedient Christ lived, followers of Francis embrace his special love for poverty. Note that, for il Poverello (the little poor one), poverty was a code word for living the gospel. As such, the vow encompassed not merely being monetarily and materially poor but also the more demanding challenge of imitating the kenosis, the radical self-emptying, of Jesus. For Franciscans, then, special esteem for the vow of poverty means asking for the grace to be formed into the image of the Servant- Lord who washed the feet of his disciples and gave up his 66.1 2007 Mirkes ¯ Confessions of a Franciscan Etbicist life out of love for sinners. For this Franciscan, then, the ethics consults that are "baked in the cake" of my every-day service afford me the precious gift of correcting and encouraging, praying with and, yes, sometimes sharing a good cry with, my clients, moving them ever more surely, moral choice by moral choice, toward their ultimate end of the Good. I frequently remind those who consult me that, because their love of the Truth and the Good is so profound, our exchange puts me in their debt. Indeed, these consultations provide me and them the double blessing of serving Christ in each other. Second, while every religious order requires its mem-bers to conform to Christ by living virtuously, Francis put humilit.y at the top of his list. Imitating Francis, I am called to give first place to the truth about myself as well as my abilities. The former lets me see that God can sing through this poor instrument as long as it is emptied of self; the latter helps me to know that all is gift. While it is true that God has blessed me with the ability to inspire people in their pursuit of the Good, I pray that my being a Franciscan shines through in the way I respond to acco-lades. After a lecture, for example, I always, but always, turn people to the real source of their inspiration: "Oh, I am so pleased you were moved by the truth of Humanae vitae! Isn't it a powerful document?" or "I see that the wisdom and holiness of Edith Stein really spoke to you. Thank God for the living witness of his saints." Third, all religious congregations encourage living in community as an explicit way to serve fellow religious and strengthen them in their service of the larger society. But Francis wanted friars and sisters to be minores, persons who lived together and claimed no special rule or domi-nation or power over anyone. Striving for that attitude as an ethics consultant, lecturer, and teacher, I provide knowledge and advice not in an imperative or domineer- Review for Religious ing way, not in a manner that makes nay moral authority felt, but in a way that appeals to the freedom and dignity of others. In doing so, I reflect and "preach" the value of "minority" by being submissive to those I serve for the sake of God. Fourth, where the church has always encouraged reli-gious to a deep conversion and self-emptying, St. Francis insisted that penance/continual conversion take primacy of place in the mindset and practice of his followers. Pursuant to a Franciscan vocation, the disposition of metanoia means letting one-self be totally cap-tured by Christ. It means unremitting movement toward the Good and avoid-ance of evil. These are the very desires I continually try to foster in those I serve. Frequently I exhort couples, "You will be tempted to give up, to cease wanting to convert to the Lord in the midst of challenging procreative issues. But resist the quick fix 'solutions' of contraception, ster-ilization, abortion, and IVF. The trade-off for expediency in these matters is an attenuated spousal relationship, a weakened family bond, and lost opportunities to lay down one's life for the other out of love." Finally, from his lived experience of the gospel, Francis understood that love must include mission. To demonstrate this he turns our attention to Mary, the per-fect disciple. Francis's way of being Marian was to emu-late the boundless love of Mary for her Son, love which flowed into the spiritual and corporal works of mer#. . Francis God ~ombats evil through holy~,-rn~n and: women, ~ ,.~.aro~gh tho~ who are dedicated 66.1 2007 Mirkes ¯ Confessions of a Franciscan Etbicist encourages every follower of his to frequently recall the scene of Mary standing beneath the cross, standing in the center of the struggle between good and evil, reminding all--but especially a female Franciscan ethicist like me-- that God combats evil through holy men and women, through those who are dedicated to instructing the ignorant by teaching morality. I confess my belief that today's moral climate requires me to morph into a hybrid ethicist: a Franciscan-Thomist. Recall that my uneasiness with the pope's response to moral relativism was largely because his position--and mine--were in the Aristotelian-Thomistic tradition rather than in the Franciscan tradition. If we had sought a Franciscan answer, it would have come from Bonaventure or his theological successors, Duns Scotus or William of Ockham. Had these men fought a heresy of relativism in their day, they would characteristically have appealed to a voluntarist solution. That is, the best way to avoid the errors of relativism comes from the Platonic way of understanding universal truth, namely, participation in innate ideas. In sum, to avoid the intellectual pride all too easily associated with philosophical speculation, these Franciscan theologians would have insisted that people do best by simply submitting their wills to the universal moral truth brokered by the church's magisterium. The Franciscan/Augustinian solution to moral relativism, then, would not have included rational arguments that yield a reason why people should submit their wills to the church's objective moral teaching.3 Against this background, I take personal solace from a central theme of the pope's theology (which is Augustinian, after all): the need to return to reason as a first step in combating moral relativism. The pope proposes, not naked reason, but reason purified by faith--or clarified by the God who is Logos, who is reason and the Word. A Review for Religious faith that opens people to the living God "liberates reason from its blind spots" so it can be "more fully itself.''4 Implicit in Benedict xvI's critique of relativists--those who contend that judgments about good or bad, right or wrong, are time-and-circumstance matters of personal opinion--is his reliance on Aquinas's philosophical vision of human nature and its transcultural basic needs.5 Since all persons unhampered by ideology, bias, or intellectual sloth can see that these natural needs/goods apply to every human being irrespective of time and culture, they should also agree that these goods ought always be pursued and honored and never denied or suppressed. With these objective human goods in mind, one can set up a series of syllogisms whose conclusions define them as objectively true and universally normative--employ-ing a first premise that has the certitude of self-evident truth and a second premise that cites an observed datum about human nature.6 The following example focuses on the human good of life. First premise: self-evidently, all human beings ought to do all those things and only those things that are really good for them. Second premise: as experience demonstrates, being alive is really good for human beings. Conclusion: every human being ought to seek life and vitality. When we apply this syllogistic argument to other human goods such as wealth, family, procreation, friends, society, play, and the higher goods of wisdom, worship, and contemplation, a set of goods emerges that is not relativist, that is, good for this or that person because of his or her desires or cultural pref-erences, but objectivist and universal, that is, good for all human beings whatever the time and circumstances. Furthermore, since all human beings have a right to this set of real goods, they also have a duty to require legisla-tures and judiciaries to enact and uphold laws forbidding their destruction or suppression. 66.1 2007 Mirkes * Confessions of a Franciscan Ethicist Pope Benedict XVI understands why a Dominican and Thomist solution to moral relativism is the way to go. It offers a discussion matrix within which to address the many fellow pilgrims of his who, by dint of being mari-nated in the skepticism and moral relativism of our day, require cogent persuasiveness for submitting to universal moral norms. And so I must be Aristotelian and Thomist in the content of my moral methods, all the while endeav-oring to have the Franciscan spirit shine through the way I do ethics.7 To conclude, then, I need only repeat my opening statement: "Confessions are never easy." But I can honestly add that this tripartite confession has con-tributed mightily to the lived mission of this Christian, religious, and F~:anciscan ethicist. Notes ~ Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, "Relativism: The Central Problem for Faith Today," available through http://www.ewtn.com. See also The Ratzhlger Repo~7 (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1985); Priuciples of Christian Morality (Ignatius Press, German 1975, English 1986); Without Roots (New York: Basic Books, 2006), and Values in a Time of Upheaval (Ignatius Press, 2006). 2 For an historical analysis of Franciscan charisms, I recommend an article by Raffaele Pazzelli TOR on Franciscan spirituality at www.fran-ciscanfriarstor. com/vocations. Mso the commentary at another section of the same website: www.franciscanfriarstor.com/resources. -~In the 13th century, the Dominican Albert the Great produced vast commentaries on Aristotle. In them Albert took full account of the work of the great Aristotelian translator and commentator Averroes (Ibn Rushd), while not neglecting to cgrrect his anti-Christian errors, hnportantly, Mbert began to clarify, why Aristotle criticized Plato. The latter had a dualistic notion of the human person that made a correct theory of the human body impossible. It was, however, only with Albert's pupil Thomas Aquinas that this point was fully developed. Unfortunately, Aquinas's work got confused with Averroism in the list of propositions condemned by the archbishop of Paris in 1277. As a result the Franciscans thought it best to retain their dedication to St. Augustine and to minimize the influ-ence of philosophy on theology. This is evident in the great works of St. Bonaventure, who tended to think of philosophy as a pagan tradition and Review for Religious strove to keep theology free of the errors of that tradition. Later Blessed John Duns Scotus and V~illiam of Ockham made more use of Aristotle, hut still remained skeptical of the power of human reason. Consequently--and tragically--the Franciscan and Dominican traditions were never recon-ciled. Ockham became a Nominalist and finally schismatic, and his distrust of reason to prove the existence of God was basic to Luther's thought and the split in the church brought about in the Protestant Reformation. 4 Pope Benedict XVI, Deus Caritas Est, §29. SMortimer Adler, Adler's Philosophical Dictionary (New York: Touchstone Books, 1995), p. 13. Perhaps the most egregious example of judicial moral relativism is encapsulated in the opinion of Justice Anthony Kennedy in Planned Parenthood v. Casey: "At the heart of liberty, is the right to define one's own concept of existence, of the meaning of the universe, and of the mystery of human life." (' Mortimer Adler, Ten Philosophical Mistakes (New York: Touchstone Books, 1985), p. 126. Y The Franciscan tradition has made great theological contributions to the church: the understanding of the doctrine of Mary's Assumption, St. Bonaventure's reflection of the Trinity. in creation, remarkable advances in natural science in the 14th and 15th centuries, and influential tracts on spirituality. On the other hand, as regards the theology of the body and virtue theory in ethics, the Dominican Thomas Aquinas has been con-stantly praised as the Common Doctor of the church. Since I work princi-pally in bioethics, I use his contribution and assimilate it to my Franciscan tradition in a harmonious, and not merely eclectic way. I encourage more Franciscans to do research in this field. Franciscan humility, it seems to me, demands as much. 66.1 2007 COLLEEN MARY MALLON Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue To recent experiences frame my reflection on pe in a global world. Recently, as part of a theo-logical update program for our diocese, I spoke on the Spirit and the chui'ch, focusing on themes that emerge from Yves Congar's great work I Believe in the Holy Spirit. Following the presentations, a number of the participants told of having new sources of hope opened up to them. I, too, was struck by the longing of these faith-filled minis-ters to connect to a vital and vibrant hope, to be deeply, ecclesia@ alive in the Spirit, and to share that life with others. There were charisms in that room that, wisely nurtured and supported, could set the diocese ablaze with the Spirit. Clearly, the desert is seeded; with more water, what a riot of flowers there would be. My second experience comes from St. John's University in New York, where I teach the introductory Colleen Mary Mallon OP first presented this essay as a talk on 21 April 2006 at Molloy College's Women of Spirit symposium. She is assistant professor of theology and religious studies at St. John's University; 8000 Utopia Parkway; Jamaica, New York 11439. Review for Religious course in theology. Early in the semester the students discuss Marcus Borg's explication of religious faith. Borg speaks about faith as assensus, intellectual affirmation, fiducia, complete trust, fidelitas, loyalty, and visio, how a person perceives the world from the perspective of faith.~ In each class the difficulty is not faith as trust or loyalty; it is faith as vision. Their vision of faith is stymied by the suffering, the struggle, and the pain that they encounter in the world. At best they hold a cautious hope that God might be at work in it all, but for most of them we live in a thoroughly indifferent universe. The fundamental faith/ hope in a gracious universe is all but nonexistent. These experiences press me to reexamine my own sources and senses of hope. With what theological visio do I see the present moment? How do I bear witness to gospel hope in these times: war in Iraq, worldwide trafficking of women and children, irruption of sectar-ian violence, the ever escalating divide between the have-mores and have-nots, the continuation of white privilege. And, closer to the bone, how do I claim a gospel hope in a church beset by the scandals of abuse and neglect, by clericalism, and by the antipathies of diverse members of the Body of Christ. My search for a response to these questions brought me back into the work and thinking of the French Dominican theologian and ecclesiologist Yves Congar. His experience of intense social, political, and ecclesial upheaval tempered his own sober confidence in the church as the continuing event of Jesus Christ in the world. I believe his perspective brings gospel hope and historical reality into a fertile, albeit tensive, dynamic. He and other French Dominicans contributed in no small way to the refashioning of theology in the 20th century. Their pertinence to wise theological vision in a global world is not to be overlooked. Using a feminist methodology which asserts that 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue "God is be discovered in human experience," let us look at the hungers and obstacles that we face at this time both as individuals and as members of a diverse and complex Christian tradition.2 Seeking what the Divine Presence desires of us at this time is, I believe, the very stuff of engaged discipleship. Discerning how contradictions and struggles mark our ecclesial experiences calls for both vir-rue and skill. I propose that the virtue is hope and that the skills include practices and behaviors that witness to our hope and even expand the horizon of our own gospel faith. If we listen carefully to what lies beneath our experiences so as to attend to the Mystery--infinitely beyond and yet intimately present to our present--we may encounter, even in "the incomplete" and "the lack," a power and a grace worthy of our freedom. I want to sketch a little more thoroughly thesigns of these global times and then turn to Yves Congar for his theological vision, for how it may inspire hope in the church today. The Signs of These Global Times There is no lack of scholarly analysis of globalization and the religious questions that emerge from the unprec-edented movement of people, ideas, and commodities.3 I want to look at the challenges that living in "glocal" presents.4 The anthropologist Roland Robertson uses the term "glocal" for the juncture where the global and local meet.5 Our contemporary experience of this global-local situation is a significant historical factor in our lives today. This is where we discern signs of the times and make decisions as disciples of Jesus. The theologian David Tracy is famous for the claim that we live in an age that cannot name itself.6 Our global-human existence contains such conflicting world-views that no one way, no single story, can hold us as a human family. Moreover, the very stories that perceive Review for Religious individuals and communities in significant patterns have become mobile. Peoples once geographically distinct are now mixing, interacting, and living in patterns that may be completely foreign to their nextdoor neighbor. Sociologists and anthropologists tell us that we, as global residents, are experiencing "flows" of people, resources, and information in ways never before experienced on the planet.7 Dual factors, media and migration, cause the global experience of compression and expansion? We experience global compression whenever we become aware of the nar-rowed space between once distant geographic entities. Exotic strangers now live close to each other in global cities that have drawn peoples together for a host of different reasons: as tourists, as migrant workers, as refugees, as executive elites. Globalization is reshaping our economic, political, and cultural worlds, and this brings a variety of ways of perceiving and evaluating the production of today's tech-nologically sophisticated societies.9 The flow of the classic Enlightenment notions of "democracy," "freedom," and "sovereignty" into new global spaces stirs in them new instances of these Western ideas. What would "democ-racy" look like for women'in a predominantly Shiite Iraq? What does the "sovereignty" of a Palestinian state, led by a newly elected Hamas government, mean for the established national states of the world? In truth, there is no longer one kind of modernity; many modernities are competing around the globe.~° These observations point to the growing tension between the global and the local which Roland Robertson describes as the "contemporary manifestation of the universal-particular dilemma.''~1 We 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue live in a world where we truly grasp universals (such as freedom, peace, prosperity) only in particular instances. And there seems to be no end of particulars; we keep discovering uniqueness, singularities, and individualities. We have come to accept, in a sense, one universal: that there are limitless particularities.~2 As Christians we recognize something of this dilemma in the wide range of our ecclesial experiences: the rise of local, base communities of gospel reflection, the renewed focus on particular denominational identities (what does it mean to be a Catholic college or university or hospital?), young people's search for their Christian identity, the rise of religious fundamentalism. Even the concerns regarding the proper role of local episcopal conferences expresses this global-local tension. The question of subsidiarity and collegiality is a much different question today than it was forty years ago at Vatican II. The experience of great diversity raises new questions about the "taken-for-grantedness" of the underlying unity of humanity. Various interpretative frameworks and femi-nist, postcolonial, and postmodern sensibilities foster a new global consciousness of "the other" and "difference." Indigenous stories, newly valorized, emerge on the global scene and inspire local resistance to ideas from outside; these "new primordialisms," freshly reshaped and refash-ioned cultural identities, whet deep appetites for mean-ing and consequence that seemingly transcend, for some people, their own existence.~3 Suicide bombers testify in ways we never expected to the power of meaning in human lives. Disconnected in their storied worlds from wider significance, people become anxious, aggravated, even deadly. New claims for authoritative traditions raise all sorts of questions about identity and symbols and whether our belonging to a particular group prohibits other kinds of Review for Religious belonging. It is in these particularisms that we often expe-rience the tensions of our ecclesial life. Can I be a Catholic and a Democrat? Can I be a feminist and "pro-life"? Like the world we are inescapably a part of, our ecclesial iden-tifies feel the pressure of the global-local predicament and challenges to past certitudes. As these new horizons open, our shared understandings of the gospel cross over into disputed spaces of lived experiences. Within those spaces there appears to be diminishing tolerance among us. Our particular community niche imposes limits on both our imaginations and our practices of tolerance. Many within the church find it increasingly difficult to engage in civil conversations across the wide diversity of perspectives. As the theologian Joseph Komonchak noted in an address to the Catholic Common Ground Initiative, "to judge from a few Internet discussions., many Catholics could learn a thing or two about elementary courtesy, about how to listen and how to speak, about give and take.''14 What hope can we have for a truly "catholic" future when our practice of dialogue mirrors the enclave mentality of our global world? Yves Congar's Incarnational Approach What might a thoroughly 20th-century, white, European, friar-preacher and theologian offer in support of hope in these times? Congar's incarnational, historical approach to theology certainly contributed to the theol-ogy in his day. Early in his theological vocation, Congar understood that he was called to serve the unity of a pain-fully divided Christian community.is Within this call grew his conviction that the dominant mode of doing theology was unnecessarily abstract and all too disconnected from the lives of ordinary people.16 His approach to theology developed from his fraternal relationships with Marie Dominic Chenu and Henri Ma]'ie Feret. Living and 66.1 2007 Mallon * Reclaiming Hope, Recovetqng Dialogue teaching at the French Dominican studium Le SaulchoiT; these three Dominicans plotted the demise of what they called "baroque theology." Congar recalls a particular day when they conceived of a research project on the history of theology. One day, chatting at the entrance of the old Saulchoi,; we found ourselves in profound accord--at once intel-lectual, vital, and apostolic--on the idea of undertaking a "liquidation of baroque theology." This was a moment of intense and total spiritual union . It was not a question of producing something negative: the rejections were only the reverse of aspects that were more positive. One day the balance will be drawn up, but already the positive quality can be sensed. What would a little later be called "ressourcement" was then at the heart of our efforts. It was not a matter either of mechanically replac-ing some theses by other theses or creating a "revolu-tion" but of appealing, as P4guy says, from one tradition less profound to another more profound.~7 This historical approach, learned at Le Saulchoh" and prac-ticed throughout his life, allowed Congar to develop a theology that was more deeply rooted in revelation and at the same time open to the pressing questions of the 20th century.~s It is Congar's approach to revelation that I believe is a critical point of departure. Many theologians regard Congar as the foremost expert on the Christian tradition, and anyone engaged in a theology of tradition cannot pro-ceed without Congar. Some contemporary scholars have noted that, while Congar's view of tradition is stunningly comprehensive, it lacks a necessary attention to the way in which meaning and power are inexorably intertwined. One theologian calls Congar's approach highly idealistic.~9 I have wrestled with this critique because, in some sense, it is a legitimate one. Clearly, Congar missed the post-modern critique of power/knowledge, and his very small Review for Religious reflections on women in relation to ministry and God-language betray his incomplete grasp of feminist concerns and questions.2° I do believe, however, that Congar's intu-ition concerning revelation and history is still significant because it is a profoundly catholic intuition. By this I mean that part of Congar's genius is his confi-dence in the fertile ground found at the intersection of the gospel and the ultimate concerns of people. As I read his theological project, I believe that the starting point of the-ology for Congar is the God-human relationship. Only in and through this relation-ship is knowledge of God possible: a relationship initiated and realized in history, in specific bodies, within unique and diverse human cultures. To make the God-human relation-ship the starting point ointp theologyfor Congar is the ,;, !GOd h :r an Telationship. of theology is to refuse to dissolve the tension between transcendence and immanence; it is, in fact, to claim that tension is integral to our graced existence in this world, in these bodies, at this time in history. I believe that this is a remarkable source of hope for us today. The mind-numb-ing, spirit-quenching materialism of much of our world has laid us low. Our own mystery as beings-made-for-love-and- truth is threatened by the pervasive consumerism that warps our sense of what it means to be human and happy. Our wishes are marketed to us as needs, things we lack are represented to us as inalienable rights, our unwise choices are blindly considered joys of freedom. The God-human Relationship To make the God-human relationship the starting point of our reflection is to reclaim both history and mys- 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue tery, and to do so in a way that is not naively romantic nor overconfident either, overreaching our finitude as crea-tures. If we allow materialism to flatten our perceptions, we lose the .meanings and values that animate our worlds of sight and sound, the very worlds through which the Divine Life communicates. In the words of Congar, "the regenerative power that will finally operate is already at work in our world, transiently, precariously, fragmentarily, and generally unperceived.''2~ This power is nothing less than the life of God poured out so that all may have life in its fullness (Jn 10:10). The "good news" manifest in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus makes explicit this divine intention for all creation, overcoming every possible alienation, division, obstacle, and separation. For Congar, this is the heart of the incarnation. God's involvement with creation is utterly personal and pro-foundly existential. "God is not the 'eternal celibate of the centuries,' but love and goodness," who creates beings "animate[d] . . . with a movement and., a desire that is an echo in them of [God's] own desire . . . revealed to us as [God's] spirit.''22 48 The Gift and Task of Discipleship For Congar, we cannot speak properly of the human outside the graced relationship that has called all creation into existence for the divine purposefulness that is agapic love. To be human is to have as gift what grace alone brings to completion.23 For Christians, the deepest, truest realization of the project called "humanity" is in receiving the embrace of a Trinity-imbued life; nothing less than the Word and the Spirit continue to effect the fulfillment of "all things in God.''24 And this fulfillment is not some-thing abstract or ethereal. "The Spirit makes it possible for us to know, recognize, and experience Christ. This is not simply a doctrinal statement. It is an existential reality Review for Religious which comes from a gift and involves us in our lives.''2s Our lives, lived Godward, immerse us in the Christian mystery that is simultaneously a gift received and a task entrusted. For Congar, the gift character of Christian life lies in Jesus' mystery becoming our mystery.-'6 Our immer-sion into Christ makes us new creation, or, as Joseph Komonchak says, "Faith discloses a new world of great depth and breadth and a new self within it.''27 In a global world where the media and the Internet hawk lifescripts to eager, vulnerable consumers, we must not lose sight of the liberating gift disclosed in Jesus; we must never forget Jesus' attractiveT~ess. Through his life, death, and resurrection, we encounter the agapic love that alone is worthy of our freedom. Moreover, we touch upon what Gustavo Gutidrrez has called the first step of all theo-logical reflection: adoration.28 The gift character of our discipleship opens us to God's utterly gratuitous love for all creation. Our only adequate response is the searingly silent gratitude of the mystic heart. To be found by this love is to find ourselves in a new relationship with all of reality, and to allow it to govern our existence both individually and communally, as both mystery and history. The gift given in revelation and received in our very being discloses to us the potential within all creation. We can only know a small part of this all-surpassing gift, but the task entrusted to us, to realize the potential of our graced existence, is of utmost importance for humanity. Our global-local world teaches us that particularity counts, that only in the bodies and histories and cultures of actual, unique persons can the transformation of the whole happen. The gift inspires the task. The gift of God's agapic love points and directs us towards the places where mercy, peace, justice, and reconciliation ache to be realized. Our 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue hope does not lie in some perfect world without the great risks that our freedom in history poses. Our hope lies in our unflinching reliance on the gift of the Spirit as we humbly and confidently put our freedom at the service of in some perfect wqrld without the great risks our freedom in history po eS.- the Love that has called us into existence. We recognize today, more than any other time, just how difficult that is. Our freedoms are conditioned by diverse worlds of meaning, some of which do not easily or comfortably coexist. We acknowledge an exasperating pluralism: global technologies that isolate just as much as they bridge. What ways of being disciples might help our hope and deepen Love's grasp, of our lives? Can diverse Christian reflections on the meaning of Jesus speak to each other? Can we practice curiosity and abstain from obstinate judgments? To imagine our discipleship as gift and task in a global world demands, I believe, a new asceticism that curbs our penchant to overindulge in communities of like-mindedness, that calls us to be different from nar-rowly framed groups around us, that calls us to the hard work of dialogical communion, expressed in new practices of ecclesial hospitality. The Task of Dialogical Communion There are behaviors and skills that can show widely that "the regenerating power that will finally operate is already at work in our world." There are disciplines that, if embraced, can witness to human life as dialogical communion. The diversity of the cosmos is authored and authorized by the Source of all life, in whose Mystery Review for Religious diversity poses no threat to unity. In the divine economy, unity stimulates diversity. The gift inspires the task. Dialogical communion challenges us to attend to how the Spirit continues to communicate God's life in and through our historical unity, a unity that is more than mere uniformity. Emerging from enclave mentalities into the liminal spaces of dialogue is, indeed, risky, business. Transgressing the boundaries of worlds of shared commitments and understandings takes great courage, and not only because of the encounter with difference. In a recent talk at St. John's University, Gerry Adams, leader of the Sein Fein party, spoke of the Irish Peace Process. The single most important element of the peace process, according to Adams, is dialogue: getting people to step out of their hard-fought divisions and to speak to each other. But Adams insists that the hardest dialogue is not with the perceived enemy; it is with your own group. Transgressing the boundaries of our habitation disturbs our communi-ties of like-mindedness. We put our identity at risk; our loyalties may be questioned; we may seem to have lost our regard for once-shared values and visions; we may be accused of undermining the very distinctiveness of our group. And we may become agents of change: midwives to the gestating life of redeemed humanity. If our diversity is no mistake, if our global-human condition confronts us, not only with challenges, but with the deep truth that our differences and particularities are the only way we have to express our essential humanity, then we will have to practice a new ldnd of countercultur-alism. When we become aware that the very diversity that delights God troubles and disturbs us, we have stepped into a moment ripe for conversion. I have the privilege of being a board member of the Parable Conference, an organization whose purpose is to make space for dialogue 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue Embracing the task Of_ dialogical commun_ion mopes us from false impressions and prejudgment~ to respect and curiosity. among all the branches of the Dominican family in the United States. No other entity for that dialogue exists in the United States. I remember the moment when I saw how mistaken my perceptions of the Dominican laity were. My prejudgment was an obstacle mercifully revealed and dispelled by new relationships with women and men whose embrace of the Dominican charism is truly inspiring. The Parable Conference struggles to keep the dia-logue alive among U.S. Dominicans; it is not an easy task. Ideology, apathy, and enmity challenge our attempts to be in authentic communion across the wide scope of the Dominican .family. Yet the very existence of this group is a good example of the order's preaching charism. Without the witness of an actual, historical community struggling to hold and engage the truths emerging from diverse God experiences, our words are empty and ~ our witness a mere shadow of what it could be. Embracing the task of dia-logical communion moves us from false impressions and prejudgments to respect and curiosity. In a contentiously divided global world, the practice of dialogical commu-nion bears witness every time we risk the hospitable effort to "make space" for each other. In his book Exc&sion and Embrace, the Lutheran theo-logian Miroslav Volf writes, "The will to give ourselves to others and 'welcome them,' to readjust our identities to make space for them, is prior to any judgment., except that of identifying them in their humanity.''29 When I attended Good Friday services last April, I observed a Review for Religious couple in the pew ahead of me struggle to "make space." It was an odd scene, because clearly there was enough space for everyone in the pew. For some reason, however, the woman-already-seated would not move all the way over; when another couple arrived, they had to practically sit on each other. I waited, thinking she would see the problem and adjust, move over just a bit more. No. She looked, made a fussy little head movement, and remained; eventually the intruding couple sat elsewhere. Then she moved over! Now there was plenty of space, and a few minutes later two others filled the pew. Why is it so hard to make space? Why is hospitality so difficult at times? I do not pretend to have a simple answer. I only know that there is a simple answer, and that this incident serves as a parable about the demands of dialogical communion. We need to secure a place where dialogue can happen. We have to cultivate the skills and disciplines that allow for the dignified existence of oth-ers. Without this space we risk the loss of real encounter and the grace it may hold for us. We lose an opportunity to witness to an authentic faith-filled visit, a gospel hope worthy of our fragile freedom. Congar reminds us that theology is not a deadly repetition of neatly worked out dogmatic statements. Disconnected from the existential reality of "someone's living thought," theology "will not bear its fruit.''3° We stand in danger, today, of losing that precious space where we respectfully, thoughtfully, and critically engage the "living thought" of someone else. Dialogical communion might be thought of as the inten-tional practice of hospitality towards those with whom we may not fully agree, or simply do not understand. People securing space for the complex and contrasting truths that emerge from deep diversities are signs of these times: "deep diversity" calls for an equally deep curiosity.3! 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue If our starting point remains the God-human rela-tionship, then we will be convinced that Mystery touches us only in history. The truth that embraces us in each encounter with the God of life is one, but its manifesta-tions are multiple. Indeed, genuine engagement of the God-human relationship continues to yield wise and chal-lenging expressions of Christian discipleship: the irrup-tion of the poor into history and the holistic vision of the reign of God as presented in theologies of libera-tion, the gospel reflection of women bringing forth new constructive theologies and the prophetic link with eco-logical consciousness and responsibility, the theologies of human rights that seek out space where diverse religions may work together for peace and the dignity of human life, and the emerging reflection on the other face of rac-ism, namely, white privilege and continuing exclusion of people of color. These truths of discipleship call us to examine anew the precious gift of our graced and historically precarious human existence. They call for a deeper asceticism and humility; they inspire a wondrous reverence for God and a curiosity about the things of God. They invite us to sus-pend our judgments so as to make space for each other and, in the very act of "maki~g space," encounter the God, who does more in us and with us than we can ask or imag-ine (Ep 3:20). "Making space" may well be the greatest and most fruitful spiritual discipline we can practice as a global church so as to be genuinely attentive to the Spirit in a world newly awakened to its divinely conceived diversity. Hope lies in our courageous and sober confidence in the Spirit's power to bring all that is God's to fullness. In the spaces where fragile human hearts meet the Love and Truth that alone overcomes all alienation, there is the hope for a different kind of history, a different kind of humanity. The gift inspires the task. Shall we take up the task? Review for Religious Notes ~ Marcus Borg, "Faith: The \a, ray of the Heart," in The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2004), pp. 25-42. 2 Mary Catherine Hilkert, "Tradition and Experience," in Freeing Theology: The Essentials of Theology in Feminist Perspective, ed. Catherine Mowry LaCugna (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993), p. 60. 3 For an overview of the many facets of the phenomenon of glo-balization, see The Globalization Reader; ed. Frank J. Lechner and John Boli (Maiden, Mass.: Blackwell, 2000), and Patrick O'Meara, Howard D. Mehlinger, and Matthew Krain, eds., Globalization and the Challenges of a New Centmy: A Reader (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2000). 4 See Robert J. Schreiter, The New Catholicity: Theology between the Global and the Local (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1997). s Roland Robertson, "Glocalization: Time-Space and Homogeneity- Heterogeneity," in Global Mode, v,ities, ed. Scott Lash and Roland Robertson (London: SAGE, 1995). ~ David Tracy, On Naming the Present (New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 3. 7 See in particular Arjun Appadarai's seminal essay "Disjuncture and Difference in the Global Cultural Economy," in Mode~vtity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 1996), pp. 27-47. s See in particular Robert Schreiter, "Globalization and the Contexts of Theology," in his New Catboliciq, pp. 1-27. 9 See Saskia Sassen, Globalization and Its Discontents: Essays on the New Mobiliq of People and Money (New York: New Press, 1998). ~0 Mike Featherstone, Undoing Culture: Globalization, Postmode~ism, and Identity (London: SAGE Publications, 1995). ~ Roland Robertson, Globalization: Social Theory and Global Culture (London: SAGE Publications, 1992), p. 100. 1, As Roland Robertson expresses it, "there is virtually no limit to particularity, to uniqueness, to difference, to otherness." Robertson, Globalization, p. 102. ~3 See in particular Benedict Anderson, hnagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationali.~n (London: Verso, 1991). ~4 Joseph Komonchak, "Is Christ Divided? Dealing with Diversity and Disagreement," Origins 33 (9): 140-147. ~ In a number of interviews, Congar traced his lifelong devotion to the unity the Christian churches to a siugular moment of contemplation. "It was while meditating upon the seventeenth chapter of St. John's Gospel 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue that I clearly recognized my vocation to work for the unity of all who believe in Jesus Christ." Yves Congar, Dialogue between Christians: Catholic Contributions to Ecumenism, trans. Philip Loretz SJ (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1966), p. 3. ~'~ "We are too prone to be satisfied with a dogma in itself, which has not to be worked out but is all laid down in the catechism or the theologi-cal manuals. We retail it, we are purveyors of orthodox theology, and that is all. We are in the process of finding that a dogma must be someone's dogma or someone's living thought, otherwise it will not bear its fruit." Yves Congar, Priest and Layman (London: Darton, Longman, & Todd, 1967), p. 209. ~7 Yves Congar, "The Brother I Have Known," The Thomist, 49 (4): 495-503. 1~ For an excellent essay on Congar's life as a theologian, see Etienne Fouilloux, "Friar Yves, Cardinal Congar, Dominican: History of a Theologian," U.S. Catholic Historian 17 (2). ~9 Vincent Miller, "History. of Geography? Gadamer, Foucault, and Theologies of Tradition," in Theology and the New Histories, ed. Gary. Macy (Maryknolh Orbis Books, 1999), pp. 56-85. 20 Congar, however, was not in any sense na'ive with regard to abuses of power, particularly in his ongoing concern for a dialogical church. "In polemics., or in any form of controversy devoid of dialogue, I interpose my own personal power, or rather that of a social formation whose views I am defending, such as a nation, a church, a culture, a social group or class, or a nexus of collective interests. Certain questions, such as that of colonialism in its most absolute form, might be approached from this point of view." Congar, Dialogue between Christians, p. 55. :~ Yves Congar, Lay People in the Church, trans. Donald Atwater (~'Vestminster, Maryland: Newman Press, 1957), p. 86. 22 Yves Congar, 1 Believe in the Holy Spirit, Vol. 2, He Is Lord and Giver of Life, trans. David Smith (New York: Seabury Press, 1983), p. 67. ~3 Yves Congar, This CT;urch That I Love, trans. Lucien Delafuente (Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books, 1969). 24 Congar, I Believe, vol. 2, p. 12. 's Congar, I Believe, vol. 2, p. 37. z6 Congar, Lay People, p. 57. 27 Komonchak, "Is Christ Divided?" p. 76. :s The "adoration of God and the doing of God's will are necessary. conditions for thinking about God." Gustavo Guti~rrez, The T~vah Shall Set You Free: Conf!'ontations, trans. MatthewJ. O'Connell (Maryknolh Orbis Books, 1990), p. 55. Review for Religious 2,; Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Emb~wce: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otberness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996), p. 29. 30 Congar, Priest and Layman, p. 209. 3~ See Charles Taylor's discussion of "deep diversity" in "Shared and Divergent Values," in his Reconciling the Solitudes: Essays on Canadian Federalism and Nationalism (Montreal/Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1993), pp. 155-186. Personal Reflection/Group Discussion In today's church do I find in myself a growing inability to listen and to dialogue with others about my own beliefs and values? What can I do to develop a more tolerant attitude in myself and so help others to become more tolerant? Do I understand dialogical cornmunion? What are some of the challenges ! would face with the people with whom I live and work? 66.1 2007 ROSE HOOVER Why Do We Gather? A Journey Together community We live in an age when young adults rarely consider religious life an option for themselves. Are we dinosaurs with primordial behavior pat-terns? Do we know why we come together in religious communities in this day and age--or in any day and age? There are varieties of commu-nity, but in this article I simply want to reflect on religious community's purpose, whether we are talking about community under one roof or community in a broader sense that does not nec-essarily mean living together. Why do we gather together? For example, are we brought together as religious for the pur-pose of a particular task? Do we form commu-nity for thesake of the ministry we do? Many people get together for special endeavors and enjoyments--music groups and sports teams, for example. Some groups even live together, like Rose Hoover RC last wrote for this journal in March-April 1992. Her address is Cenacle Sisters; 505 Northeast 5th Avenue; Gainesville, Florida 32601. Review for Religious the ad hoc assemblages on some reality shows. We too have tasks we desire to accomplish, tasks not only pre-cious to us but valuable for the people of God. We know that good community life can help us in our ministries. But is ministry the reason we come together? Today other people do the same ministries we do, and do them just as well, without being members of religious communi-ties. If religious community is for the purpose of carrying out ministry, and if the ministry no longer necessitates coming together in community, then is our gathering as consecrated religious also unnecessary? What about forming relationships? There was a lot of talk a few years ago about relational communities as distinct from task-ori-ented communities. A quick Internet search shows that concept to be far from dead today. As Christians we are indeed called to be in relationship both with God and with other ~ i."~ W:~t~hou~t~:i')ood "rdationships, ,- iydividuals and communities Christians. Without good relationships, individuals and communities are bound to be lifeless. And so compan-ionship, relationships, belong in consecrated life. In fact, loving presence is necessary in consecrated life. But com-panionship, even deep companionship, can be had in other ways, some of them far easier than religious community. Neither friendship nor c6mpanionship, of course, can be the main purpose of religious community. As Antoine de Saint-Exup~ry writes in l/Vind, Sm~d, and Stars, "Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction." In Christian community, if our primary gaze is on each other rather than on Christ, we are not on the way to true communion. 66.1 2007 Hoover ¯ Why Do We Gather? Religious cOmmunity is no way to flee,the,World; the world walks right-inl Wit,h,us.o Can religious community exist for the purpose of mak-ing the practical details of life more economical or more simple? It certainly can, though it does not always do so. In our university town we see students who live together to save money and make life less burdensome, leaving more time and energy for studies. Religious communi-ties, too, can live simply and economically--and even live gospel poverty. But is this all there is to it? Communities, even small ones, can provide security. People throughout the centuries have banded together for the sake of security. Gated communities thrive today. California lays claim to at least three gated cities--in effect, walled towns: Rolling Hills, Hidden Hills, and Canyon Lake. Probably some peo-pie enter religious life to be safe from the dangers of the "world" (or other dangers they somehow perceive). We know from experi-ence that religious community is no way to flee the world, if for no other reason than that the world walks right in with us. Security, then, cannot be the purpose of coming together as religious. There has to be more to religious community than any of these reasons, more even than all of them together. Parker Palmer, a Quaker, who at the time of writing an article for Desert Call (1987) was part of an intentional community, puzzled over the historical longevity of monasticism, given the difficulties of community life. He concluded that it is because the monks "created a form of community that brings them together not for the purpose of togetherness but to support each other in the rigors of the inward journey.''~ Review for Religious To support each other on the inward journey, the spiritual journey, is indeed rigorous. It has no less a goal than transforming union with Jesus Christ. That, after all, is the Christian call. The road can be rocky, and pitfalls can lie along the path. There can be pain and discourage-ment, but also joy, peace, and love. Moments of grace can astonish, but then there may be long and numbing stretches of boredom. At times we wish to shuffle along complacently, and at other times we are strong against the enemy's wiles. We have glimmers of understanding and then clouds of miserable confusion. The journey is truly rigorous. There is no way to make it alone. Whether we thought about it this way or not, this is the reason we entered religious life. God knew the pur-pose even if we did not--the call to give ourselves wholly to God by following a path of transforming union in love. This path not only blesses us with love and forgiveness, it also demands much of us. It requires prayer. This needs to be said bluntly here because, though for some people prayer is pure joy, for others it is a demand, a rigorous one. And, as for praying together, some find it no bur-den at all, while others are being sorely tested. The need for prayer implies the need to find time for prayer, the courage to carve a quiet niche for it when society--and sometimes religious life as well--would instead reward us for constant activity. How many times have we heard someone say with a hint of pride in her voice, "I haven't had a day off in months"? Or maybe we have even made that boast ourselves. As our life goes on, we have opportunities and duties to learn compassion toward the uncompassionate and to love those who do not love us._We learn to see loveliness in those who appear unlovely, sometimes being surprised at seeing our own kind of goodness in someone we never even liked. We find ourselves acknowledging our own 66.1 2007 Hoover ¯ Why Do We Gather? sinfulness, our helplessness, our inability to understand ourselves or the God who loves us and in whose image we are made. The spiritual journey brings people to a better vision of life--but usually without visions. Along the way we more and more take on the mind of Christ, who emptied himself. We learn not to cling to anything, not to hold anything back. We take one step at a time, without know-ing where the road winds and often without being sure that the next step is the right one. The road through our interior landscape may lack clear markers; misty weather may obscure them and make us forget the presence of God. Formidable though the way may be, it is precisely here that we find our delight. The God who created the universe, who fills the cosmos, who was and is and ever shall be, this God is both our companion and our destina-tion. After beginning on this path, any other way seems dull and senseless, hardly worth the trouble of putting one foot in front of the other. To make the most of this wondrous journey and to smooth its progress, we gather together. We support one another by our words, our prayers, and our presence, and we grant one another the silence and solitude we all need. And, when we become discouraged like Elijah lying under the broom tree, we take for each other the role of the angel who said, "Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you" (1 K 19:7, NRSV). We have to admit, though, that sometimes our sisters and brothers the~nselves can be part of the "burning of the noontide heat, and the burden of the day."-' The com-munity may be the very reason we long to crawl under the broom tree and disappear in sleep. But the burdens and the blessings of the road are intermingled and often indis-tinguishable from one another. What seems like a bur-den may in reality be a blessing, and each blessing tends Review for Religious to bring with it its own weight, imperceptible at times, greatly evident at others. In community, as we accompany each other along the way, as we support each other, we bring ourselves to the mix of people, we give ourselves as gifts. As with ordinary gifts, we do not know if we have chosen the right gift for the right person. We sincerely hope we have, and that we are not bringers of burdens or disappointments. In this we all develop subtle social gifts of giving and receiving, giving benefits shyly and having doubts beneficially, all the while sharing in mystery. What, then, is the role of our ministry? Is the value of ministry lessened if the work we are called to do is not our chief reason for coming together? Not at all. Without the inward journey, our ministry lacks integrity. A reli-gious community with a task--even a noble task--as its primary purpose risks allowing both community and task to become sterile. The apostolate is inseparable from the path of transforming union. Like cotton canvas garden-ing gloves, our ministry, hand in hand with prayerfulness, brings our patient dedication to flower in ways beyond imagining--more .and more the work of Christ. We our-selves are transformed into the compassionate and merci-ful Christ for each other and for the world. Notes ~ Parker Palmer, "The Monastic V~ay to Church Renewal," Desert Call, ¼qnter 1987: 8-9. 2 Elizabeth C. Clephane, "Beneath the Cross of Jesus," 1868. 66.1 2007 ROBERT SCHIELER An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers During Holy Week 2006 three hundred De La Salle Christian Brothers gathered in retreat to discern a future together. Under the banner "An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers," we brothers from three East Coast provinces~ and Toronto, Canada, desire to imagine more of a future than merging our provinces into one. As in other congregations, the reason for con-sidering a shared future is the diminishment and aging in our provinces. In recent years the provinces have spon-sored joint formation programs, retreats, workshops, and council meetings. This gathering helped us become even more familiar with one another and our hopes and dreams. From the beginning we wanted to explore creative approaches to consolidation. We saw the merging of provinces as perhaps an administrative necessity but no guarantee for future viability and vitality. Our goal was to Robert Schieler FSC writes from Christian Brothers Provincialate; P.O. Box 29; Adamstown, Maryland 21710. Review for Religious make our network of ministries more effective. These ways were to include a renewed passion for our life together as brothers in community and for our consecrated life in the following of Jesus. The aim of the communal retreat was to facilitate achieving these goals. In the preceding eighteen months, a planning com-mittee guided local community conversations around the Triduum. Four prayer services with reflection questions were prepared for Trinity Sunday, when communities nor-mally .plan for the year, the first Sunday in Advent, and the first Sunday in Lent. Reflection questions sought to mirror sessions that would take place during the retreat: remembering our icons and dangerous memories; discern-ing who we are today and our potential for tomorrow; and deciding on a direction for a shared future. Being pragmatic people, a good many brothers had reservations about this process and the value of the retreat itself. The retreat began on Wednesday evening with over three hundred brothers processing into our prayer space for an opening prayer service and a motivational presen-tation celebrating five brothers identified as icons from our five provinces. During our days of retreat, we would recall icons from Scripture, our Lasallian heritage, and our brothers. Icons, as windows to the interior, help us get in touch with the deeper forces operative in our lives. An icon can help us transcend the immediacy of our pres-ent life situation. By touching the core of our being, icons stir up an interior movement that allows us to go beyond our immediate landscapes. At the opening prayer service we heard read: We gather tonight to remember, to celebrate, to grieve, and to dream. This is our Lasallian heritage. It is rich, indeed! It is composed of individuals, communities, and ministries that at one time listened to the whispers of a radical spirit, a spirit that opened to us new venues and invited us to launch our boats in uncharted waters so 66.1 2007. Scbieler ¯ An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers as to serve better the children of the poor and working class. We celebrate tonight our Lasallian icons. They are stories, people, events of the original foundational journey of our community as De La Salle Brothers that become like windows breaking open the deepest mean-ing, revealing a prophetic insight, full of memory and hope, about the present. They help us to get in touch with our dangerous memories., our wildest dreams. They connect us to our institute, to our church, and to the mystery of God's kingdom here on earth. Brothers, they do not exist to reassure us. Sometimes these icons will destabilize us and challenge our current views and understandings. If we let them, they may stir up in us the deepest movements and yearnings of the Spirit! Seeing men we have lived with or heard about and recalling how they lived as brothers and what they accom-plished stirred us, prompted reflections, and encouraged conversations about our fraternal life together and the mission for which we consecrated our lives. As the open-ing evening came to a close, brothers retired to their rooms in a "wait and see" frame of mind. Dangerous Memories Under the day's theme of "Remembering where we were and refounding our hope. for the future," we met on Holy Thursday morning as provinces to recall our respec-tive dangerous memories. The theologian Johannes B. Metz saw dangerous memories as: memories in which earlier experiences break through to the center point of our lives and reveal new and dangerous insights for the present. They illuminate for a few moments and with a harsh and steady light the questionable nature of things we have apparently come to terms with, and show up the banality of our supposed "realism." They break through the canon of the prevailing structures of plausibility and have certain subversive features. Such memories are like dangerous Review for Religious and incalculable visitations from the past. They are memories that we have to take into account, memories, as it were, with a future content.: One province, in the activities leading up to the retreat, highlighted as one of its most dangerous memories a 1920s decision that resulted in a quick move from primary to secondary education. In 1926 and 1927 the province withdrew from thirteen elementary schools to staff two new diocesan high schools. While reluctant at the time to leave elementary education, the province would realize from these two schools several hundred vocations during the next four decades. This decision is part of the prov-ince lore and often recalled at fraternal gatherings. On this Holy Thursday morning, however, it was about another dangerous memory that several brothers spoke with pas-sion. This dangerous memory was still very much in the present. It was from the late 1960s and early 1970s. Like many congregations and the church in general, the province was caught up in the euphoria of the Second Vatican Council, but was also beginning to witness the fallout: departures, the drop in vocations, and polariza-tion. Between the start of summer 1969 and the end of summer 1970, the province would lose nearly a hundred brothers, including the provincial and much of the prov-ince's leadership. In the coming decade nearly thirty men would leave to enter the priesthood. The novitiate that had served the province since 1880 closed in summer of 1969. At the same time the renewal and updating of our religious life, the principle of subsidiarity, and personal responsibility versus directives from the top were going forward. So was empowerment of young over those with seniority status. While this province would struggle with fundamental issues of religious life through much of the 1970s, by the end of the decade a new formation program was bringing 66.1 2007 Schieler ¯ An Experience of yesus and His Brothers from our pas that we wanted tocar or ard fewer but excellent candidates. Commitment to its tradi-tional educational ministries remained strong while being open to new and sometimes individual ministries. The mental health of the brothers would be honestly faced and addressed. After considerable neglect, personal and communal prayer returned. The morning session was both invigorating and inspir-ing. Table conversation at lunch was animated as other brothers were proposed as icons and further dangerous memories shared. Following lunch and prompted by a presentation on passing with Jesus from death to life and by a video on our roots, we reflected on the values from our past that we wanted to cel-ebrate and carry forward into the future. These included accomplishing our educational mission as a community that can adapt and innovate, the diversity of our educational delivery sys-tems, our formation as educators with a Christocentric spirituality, and our recent establishment of national for-mation programs to share our charism with our lay col-leagues. As Thursday afternoon gave way to evening and din-ner, the brothers seemed to accept that we were on a retreat, not at an assembly. Conversations were more hope-filled, and the feeling now being expressed was "Yes, it is good to be together." This was evidenced by the number of brothers coming.before the Blessed Sacrament in prayer and silence throughout the evening. Finding a seat in chapel for adoration on Holy Thursday had not been difficult for a long time! Review for Religious Three Hundred HistoriesmOne Voice, One Spirit While on Wednesday evening and Holy Thursday we celebrated and remembered those brothers who shaped us and our provinces, on Good Friday we would behold the men we are today. How are we different from those we had honored and recognized? What had we lost? What do we take to the cross? Whom do we take down from the cross? What do we bury? To stimulate our reflection we viewed the film Romero, suffering servant in our time, and listened to a presentation on the crucifixion of Jesus, the Suffering Servant for all time. These enriched our table conversations later, but something else in that afternoon proved transformative. The image of three hundred brothers one by one ven-erating the crucified Christ on Good Friday afternoon was a powerful one. We witnessed three hundred histories that have faithfully lived their initial "yes" given to God. There was much gray, but the talent and energy in that long gray line was palpable. One brother reflecting on the experience wrote: "I found that long line of brothers inspiring. Each of us brought our stories to that moment, and I knew many of the men and their talents, the ~ailures they and I faced, the challenges they and I met, the stu-dents they and I inspired, the communities we had lifted up, and our struggles with various demons. Some were my teachers; others were my mentors in community. There were international, national, and district leaders. Other brothers were and are colleagues and confreres. Yet all our various paths pointed us in the same right direction that afternoon. All of us bowed before the same cross, individually and collectively, confessing our belief in Jesus our Savior. What richer image could we have of our vow formula than that we brothers accomplish our educational mission not as individuals but 'together and by associa-tion' with one another?''3 66.1 2007 Scbieler ¯ An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers This kind of change stimulates resistance because it challenges peopl e's habits. Holy Saturday Holy Saturday morning began with a presentation that many brothers found realistic while others found challenging and some even disturbing or out of sync with the spirit of the retreat. That presentation revealed the harsh demographic realities that nearly sixty percent of the membership is over sixty-five years of age with only twelve of the 420 brothers in the three provinces and del-egation under the age of forty. It spoke of the hope lost after the heady days of the council. It spoke of halfhearted efforts at amalgamation in the 1990s and the first cou-ple of years in this new ~ century. It spoke of the ~' difficulties and chal- !enges of what Heifetz . and Linsky call "adap-tive change" versus "technical change"; change at the core of persons or organizations as opposed to the simple rear-ranging of things.4 This kind of change stimulates resis-tance because it challenges people's habits, beliefs, and cultures. The presentation offered elements of hope and a plan for the future, but for some it stood in contrast to the good feelings generated from the storytelling and shar-ing of experiences from our various provinces. Perhaps we were experiencing the stone being placed at the entrance to the tomb. There was a period of questioning, self-doubt, and waiting. What direction would the retreat now take? We had reached a critical moment, and it took all the facilitators' skills to maintain a retreat atmosphere and not slip into a workshop or assembly one. We pre-pared the brothers to opt for the direction they preferred. Review for Religious The answer would come in the afternoon, after the "three hundred stories" had processed in once more. Five possible directions for a shared future were iden-tified, including remaining as separate provinces or unit-ing in a totally new structure. The five possibilities were posted at the front of the hall, and each brother was given a colored dot to place next to his choice. Again three hun-dred men walked up quietly and indicated their choice. At the end, it was overwhelmingly agreed: to create one province with new structures for the vitality of commu-nities and ministries of the three present provinces and delegation. The key phrase was "new structures." In a letter he sent to the brothers at the retreat, our superior general wrote: Our times demand not only that we change current structures, as if by doing only this we could revitalize ourselves. It is not about simply creating larger prov-inces that are the same as those of the past. We have to reinvent what it is we understand by the term "prov-ince," and create new structures that will allow us to be rnore visible and more effective in the way we manage and accompany Lasallian association throughout the world,s The stone in front of the tomb was being removed along with self-doubt and waiting. We embraced the possible. It is always Holy Saturday whenever people push back the creeping boundaries of the world's fear, making room for irrepressible hope; where people live the long darkness of original sin while believing in the possibil-ity of the deeper light; where people discover the touch of an invincible spring on the bare branches of their winter lives.6 Easter Vigil The Easter Vigil was a most joyous occasion. All three hundred brothers had donned their new sport shirts with one of our familiar congregation logos. In his sermon the 66.1 2007 Scbieler ¯ An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers 72 celebrant for the vigil beautifully summarized the previous several days by recounting a conversation he had earlier in the day with a young man staying at the same resort. I walked by. "Hi," I said. "'Sup. You one of Jesus' brothers?" I knew what he meant because I live in the 'hood. "Sorry?" "You one of Jesus' brothers? I saw the sign: 'Jesus and His Brothers.'" "Yeah, yeah, you are too!" Never miss a catechetical moment. "So you pastors or something?" "No, mostly teachers-Christian Brothers." "That's nice," he said. "I've been watching

Issue 57.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1998. ; f,o r r eltg ous Christian Heritages and Contempora~ Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER1998. VOLUME57. :NUMBER5 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles .in the journal are meant to be informative, practical, bistorical, or inspirational, written from a tbeological _or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: FOPPEMA@SLU.EDU Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1998 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This per,nission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe TracT Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wktberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 5 contents 454 feature Learning Communities: A Spirituality of Work for the Information Age Michael Skelley proposes that a spirituality which focuses on creating learning communities promises to be especially appropriate for work in the info~'mation age. He integrates theological concepts with ideas from organizational development research. 472 484 491 ignatian spirituality The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises John J. Begley SJ offers a contemporary understanding of Jesus' parables that inserts their use within the Ignatian Exercises and so facilitates a retreatant's entering into the experience of Jesus. St. Ignatius and My Piano Anita J. Baly reflects on how her experience of the Ignatian Exercises gave her insight about playing the piano and praying as complementary processes that call on remarkably similar skills. consecrated life The Experience of God in Consecrated Life during the 20th Century Joseph A. Tetlow SJ sums up the differences between the pre-Vatican II and Vatican II approaches to consecrated life in terms of the postmodern understanding of experience as constructed, derivative, intentional, and dialogic. Review for Religious 513 Gathering the Fragments: Associate Leaders Reflect on Their Experience Roberta Archibald SSJ, Joanne Bauer SBS, and Jean Ustasiewski OSF share the experience of a group of associate leaders who meet regularly in the Philadelphia area. 522 529 536 prayer Unceasing Prayer: Romancing the Divine Jerry D. Keeney develops the image of romancing the Divine for shaping our relationship with God. Prayer Joseph McCloskey SJ draws upon his experience as a pray-er to describe some necessary elements in a prayer life. Renewal of Prayer Mary Terese Donze ASC explores ways in which the word of God inspires and nourishes our prayer life beyond and above every book on prayer. departments 452 Prisms 541 Canonical Counsel: The Evangelical Counsel of Obedience: Key Current Legislation 547 Book Reviews September-October 1998 That they may be one, as we are one. prisms Rpe John Paul II wrote the encyclical That They May Be One (Ut Unum Sint) in 1995. This document, dealing with our Christian commitment to ecumenism, took its title from the petition spoken by Jesus in his Last Supper discourse as remembered in the Gospel of St. John. Jesus prayed that all his followers would be blessed with the unity, the oneness which his Abba-Father and he enjoyed: "That all may be one as you, Father, are in me, and I in you; I pray that they may be one in us" On 17:21). A most pervasive tendency among us is to make a divi-sion of any grouping into "them" and "us." It happens in families, between those "siblings or relatives who are "out" and those who are "in." It occurs in the way male and female differences have become "them" and "us" in the gender movements of our day. It is evident in the struggles caused by racial, ethnic, or religious distinctions. Witness our contemporary history of the United States, Bosnia, Sudan, and Rwanda. It is found in the church whether between hierarchy/clergy and laity or between liberal and conservative/traditionalist. Even an official church action like excommunication pronounced by local bishops or by Vatican congregations seems to divide off members into a "them" against an "us." Historically it has been true that religious congregations vied with each other within the church, for example, the competition between branches of 14th-century Franciscans and between 17th-century Dominicans and Jesuits--something in consecrated life, Review for Religious thank the Spirit, which seems less a problem in our time. It is writ large in the struggles in our economic world between east and west and between north and south--the "have's and the have-not's." The "them" and "us" (or, at its personal ultimate, "the world" and "me") mentality seems to be in the very air we breathe. What does this year dedicated in a special way to the Spirit call forth in us? Our desire could well be that the Spirit gift us with various prisms through which to view life and our relation-. ships with others in more accepting ways. We might pray that the Spirit become for us the pervading atmosphere in which we live and move and have our being. We need to stir ourselves to take the first few steps away from "political maps" that divide everything into a "them" and "us." We could decide to take action by our daily examination of conscience~ We begin our examen by thanking God for the small ways in which we have allowed the Spirit to unite ourselves with others in our thinking about them and in our acting towards them. We then examine ourselves and note the occasions when we have succeeded in avoiding a "them" and "us" attitude and the occasions when we have not. We, moved by the Spirit, beg God's forgiveness for the obtuseness of our minds and the hardness of our hearts in choosing and reinforcing the deadly worldview of division in our behaviors of this day. Finally we ask ever more fervently for the outpouring of the Spirit upon us to strengthen us in our mission. Empowered by the Spirit, we dedicate ourselves anew to struggle at eliminating the "them" and "us" mentality in our family, in our community, in our parish life, in our work life, and in whatever other areas it seems to pre-vail. The Spirit is the Love-Reality, the very communio, of God's life. The Spirit, we might ~ay, is the Love-touch of God's life in us, and so the Spirit's presence in our lives means our communion of life with our Trinitarian God. The Spirit's activity is God's cre-ating the communio among all of us here and now. Christ's prayer, then, becomes more insistently our prayer and moves us so to work to bring about a world that is at once more human and more divine--that all may be one. David L. Fleming SJ September-October 1998 feature MICHAEL SKELLEY Learning Communities: A Spirituality of Work for the Information Age Many spiritualities of work have been developed by the world's religious traditions. The differences between these spiritualities come not only-from their various theological presuppositions, but also from the various economic and social realities they address. As the nature of work has changed over the course of human history, so too have the religious interpretations of work. We have entered a new era in the history of work, the information age. The new realities of the workplace pose an immense challenge to workers and to the theologians, pastoral counselors, and ministers who want to help them develop a spirituality of work. How can we articulate, fos-ter, and practice a spirituality of work appropriate to the information age? We may not simply assume that a spir-ituality deduced from past theologies will fit our present situation. If the nature of work truly has changed, then a different kind of spirituality will be required.~Nor can we assume that theologians have the competence by them-selves to develop a new spirituality of work. This task requires ~hat we dialogue with a wide range of scholars who study contemporary work organizations. The potential number of partners and possible agen-das for such a dialogue is immense, and we cannot engage Michael Skelley is a full-time faculty member and the director of the undergraduate program at DePaul University's School for New Learning. His research and publications have focused on spirituality, worship, work, and learning. His address is DePaul University; 243 S. Wabash, #700; Chicago, Illinois 60660. Re~iew for Religious them all. Nor will we survey the historical development of the theology of work; that has been done quite well elsewhere.~ We will integrate some insights from this tradition with a few ideas from scholars of information-age work. The growing consensus in the latter field is that the primary challenges and opportunities of the information-age workplace revolve around learning. In the Christian tradition, coincidentally, learning has long been seen as a path to holiness. This paper, therefore, will explore how a spirituality focused on transforming our workplaces into learn-ing communities might be an apt spirituality of work for the infor-mation age. The Spirituality of Work Throughout the Judeo-Christian tradition, work has been seen as both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, we some-times experience work as an opportunity to display our talents, develop our gifts, contribute to the common good, and exercise our creativity. When work is like that, it is joyful, engaging, and fulfilling. Such work experiences return intrinsic rewards that far outweigh their extrinsic compensations: they satisfy some of our deepest needs and highest aspirations. But, on the other hand, we also experience work as overwhelmed by impossible demands, torn by interpersonal conflicts, dehumanized by trivial proce-dures, and oppressed by unjust practices. Such work causes frus-tration, anger, and despair. Whatever compensation we receive, then, cannot repair the damage done to our spirits and bodies. When our work is like this, it poisons us and our family, friends, and communities. Work brings out the best and the worst in us. We need a spirituality of work precisely because work is so ambivalent. As our spiritual predecessors did in their own cir-cumstances, we search for ways of working which might help us taste more of work's blessings and fewer of its curses. We search, in other words, for ways to transform our ambivalent experiences of work into a consistent experience of God. Our positive expe-riences inspire us to believe in the goodness of work. Can we, then, find ways of working which regularly evoke the best in us and our work? Our negative experiences test our character and challenge us to change. Can-wE find ways of working which will liberate us from the destructive aspects of our work and our work-places? This transformation is the task of a spirituality of work. September- October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities A spirituality of work is a way of working that helps cowork-ers to achieve together our fullest development as human beings. Three points are important about this definition. Thefirst is that a spirituality of work is a way of working, not a way of promot-ing religious ideas and practices. Work can be integrated into spirituality without being interpreted in explicitly religious ways. We need to challenge that ancient legacy of dualist thinking which still conditions most people to assume that secular activities can-not, by definition, be sacred. That is why P~re Marie-Dominique Chenu, a pioneer, in the modern effort to develop theologies of work, said that the question of the relationship between nature and grace is fundamental to the spirituality of work.2 When people see grace and nature as separate and opposed realities, they think that the task of a spirituality of work is to make work explicitly religious. Spirituality then becomes the intrusion of something foreign into the work. Unfortunately, most of what is touted today as spirituality of work suffers from vari-ous degrees of this dualistic thinking. Such spiritualities impose religious ideas, language, and practices on work. The vigorous resistance that many working people have to these intrusions is justified, not simply because these spiritualities discourage humane work, but also because they encourage questionable theology. But when grace and nature are seen as inseparable, the task of a spirituality of work is to enhance something that is already pres-ent in the work. Spirituality then becomes a matter of making explicit what is already implicit. If, as Karl Rahner said;, our world is permeated with the divine self-communication, we can experi-ence God and achieve our fullest human potential even in the most ordinary kinds of work.3 Work becomes spiritual, not by becoming religious, but by becoming more truly work, by being true to the spiritual dimensions already part of its character. This does not diminish the important and proper place of religion; rather, it points to religion's roots in daily life. Such a spiritual-ity of work is concerned with fostering human development in ways which are appropriate to the workplace. It supports the potential we already know work possesses to engage our gifts and contribute to the common good. ~ Second, the definition above implies that a way of working is a form 6f spirituality to the extent that it supports our complete human development. Holiness is a matter of wholeness, and so whatever fosters our holistic human development leads us toward Review for Religious spiritual maturity as well.4 Or, as Irenaeus taught, God is glorified when human beings are fully alive. The major religious and spir-itual traditions of the world have proven successful at furthering the kind of human development we seek. They provide us with a wealth of complementary images of the breadth and depth of our potential as human beings. Obviously, each of these traditions has been guilty at times of fostering narrow-minded notions of virtue that highlight only some aspects of what we are capable of becoming. But, when they are seen together, it is clear that they share some fundamental values, attitudes, and standards that lead people toward fulfilling their human poten-tial and help them understand this effort,s The task of a spirituality of work is to root our ways of working in these basic understandings of holistic human development. This second point does not con-tradict the first one, namely, that the spirituality of work is a way of work-ing and not a way of promoting religious ideas. To say that a spir-ituality of work needs to be rooted in the values of the world's religious traditions is simply to propose that we need to be reflec-tive about the assumptions we bring to our work. The ways we work necessarily presuppose certain ideas, frequently muddled and usually unarticulated, about the values that guide our lives. The question is not whether we want to have a spirituality of work or not; everyone already has some sort of spirituality of work, although we are rarely conscious of this fact. Nor is the point to advocate the values of one particular religious tradition, no matter how emi-nent they may be. To do so would be to presume a consensus in the workplace about religion that is unlikely to exist. The goal is to be reflective about our fundamental values and to ensure that they support not only efficient and effective work, but fully humane work as well. We can do so by rooting our work in the most uni-versal possible expressions of basic human values. The third point we need to notice about the definition above is that a spirituality of work is about achieving our full human development together, in common, not just individually. It is a Work becomes spiritual, not by becoming religious, but by becoming more truly work, by being true to the spiritual dimensions already part of its character. Septentber-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities way of working together with our coworkers for the transforma-tion of our work and our workplaces so that all of us can develop our full human potential. In other words, we need to challenge another kind of dualism, that between our private, individual selves and our public, communal selves. Popular spiritualities today typically identify the spiritual with an individual's interior experience. People seldom connect work with spirituality, for it is associated with the public and exterior dimensions of our lives.6 Popular attempts .to develop a spirituality of work typically assume that their task is to enhance our individual, interior development. They rarely reflect on how the spirituality of work could and should be something that all workers share. This dualistic think-ing does a disservice both to work and to spirituality. It ultimately reinforces the kind of depersonalized, mechanistic approach to work associated with Frederick Taylor, the inadequacies of which are now widely recognized.7 And it misses the critical insight of liberation and feminist theologies that transformation of the social, political, and communal dimensions of our lives is an essential part of spiritual development. Work in the Information Age: Organizational Learning After this review of the task faced by a spirituality Of work, we now need to explore how the information age has changed the nature of the work we do. This will prepare us to think about how a spirituality of work needs to be different today. At the beginning of this century, most workers in the United States were either farmers or domestic servants. By 1950 the com-position of the workforce had completely changed, and most workers were engaged in some form of industrial labor.8 The the-ologies and spiritualities of work that have appeared in the last fifty years focus on the issues of that industrial age, not recognizing how work has changed.9 At the end of the 20th century, it is clear that we have entered an entirely new age in the history of work. We live in a postindustrial society of "knowledge work," the infor-mation age. A significant but steadily shrinking number of work-ers are still employed in the industrial sector, and many others work in service jobs, but the largest portion of the workforce now consists of knowledge workers. By the year 2000, only ten percent of the workforce in the United States and other postindustrial countries will be directly involved in making things.19 Review for Religious While our parents and grandparents usually worked with their hands, moving and making things, most of us work with our heads. The work we do involves knowing, thinking, and learning. Our jobs do not simply require more educational preparation than the work of previous generations did. They require us to do some-thing fundamentally different: to create, interpret, organize, apply, transfer, and manage knowledge. Knowledge work radically changes the nature of a market economy and redefines the rela-tionship between workers and the means of production. This is a new kind of economy and a new kind of work.1~ As Peter Drucker has said, "The social center of gravity has shifted to the knowledge worker. M1 developed countries are becoming postbusiness, knowledge societies. Access to good jobs and career opportunities in developed countries increasingly requires a university diploma. Looked at one way, this is the !ogical result of a long evolution in which we moved from working by the sweat of our brow and by muscle to industrial work and finally to knowledge work. But the development also represents a sharp break with the past."12 Knowledge work requires new abilities to continually learn from and think with one's coworkers. In the past, tasks that required thinking could typically be carried out by individuals using general knowledge. Much of today's knowledge work, in contrast, is too complex for any generalist to accomplish alone. It requires the coordinated efforts of a variety of specialists. People must be able to share their expertise with one another for the work to get done. The primary agent of knowledge work, there-fore, is an organization, not an individual. This fact need not diminish the importance or dignity of the individual worker. It is a consequence of the highly specialized expertise that individ-ual knowledge workers have. Together they are able to create some-thing that none of them could create alone: Knowledge work is a multifaceted task that requires the collaboration of a variety of experts and specialists. It must be done by an organization con-centrated on a particular task. Effective organization, then, is a necessary condition for knowledge work.13 Consequently, as knowledge workers we must work not just for an organization, but at it. That is to say, we must work con-tinually at growing with our colleagues into a community that can do real knowledge work. The organization is not just where we work; it is an essential outcome of our work itself. The task of cre-ating an effective organization where knowledge work is possible Septe~tber- October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities is an inescapable part of each knowledge worker's creative efforts. The nature of knowledge work requires us to deal continually with organizational change, development, and transformation. The academic or professional discipline which concentrates on organizational change is commonly called organization develop-ment. L4.Organization development systematically applies behav-ioral science knowledge to the planned development of organizational strategies, structures, and processes in order to improve an organization's effectiveness.~s Organization develop-ment is practiced in many different ways. Most recent approaches, however, emphasize increasing the organization's capacity to learn.~6 For example, Peter Senge, director of the Center for Organizational Learning at MIT's Sloan School of Management, focuses on creating learning organizations, "organizations where people continually expand their capacity to create the results they truly desire, where new and expansive patterns of thinking are nurtured, where collective aspiration is set free, and where peo-ple are continually learning how to learn together."~7 Organizational change experts focus their efforts on organi-zational learning for many reasons. They hope that learning will simultaneously foster the development of the people in the orga-nization and provide superior economic performance. They see it as an extension of the movement to improve the quality of prod-ucts and services. They see it as a way of managing the increas-ingly rapid pace of social and technological change.~8 But, most basically, they recognize that there cannot be any consistent change for the better in work organizations unless these organi-zations are able to learn. All planned change presumes learning, and so leading change is a matter of facilitating learning. Argyris and Sch6n speak of this "learning imperative": "Now in the mid-1990s, it is conventional wisdom that business firms, governments, nongovernmental organizations, schools, health-care systems, regions, even whole nations and supranational insti-tutions need to adapt to changing environments, draw lessons from past successes and failures, detect and correct the errors of the past, anticipate and respond to impending threats, conduct experiments, engage in continuing innovation, build and realize images of a desirable future. There is a virtual consensus that we are all subject to a 'learning imperative,' and in the academic as well as the practical world, organizational learning has become an idea in good currency.'''9 Review for Religious But it is not proving easy to transform our work organiza-tions into learning communities. Organization-development spe-cialists agree that our work organizations have handicaps that prevent them from learning effectively. Senge thinks that funda-mental difficulties most organizations have in becoming learning communities can be traced in part to traditional Christian spiri-tualityd° He says that our work organizations have been rendered dysfunctional by three problems: reactiveness, fragmentation, and competition. These problems reflect deeper cultural problems that are due in large part to a tradition of dualistic thinking in Western society. From his reading of Thomas Merton, Joseph Campbell, Raine Eisler, and Elaine Pagels, Senge thinks that Christianity insti-tutionalized this dualistic thinking. Obviously, Senge's critique of Christianity would need to be more carefully nuanced and solidly supported, but in its broad outlines it is consistent with the critiques made by lib-eration, feminist, and ecological theologians.21 The problem is not spirituality per se,. but the consequences of dualistic, hierarchical, and patriarchal spiritual-ities. Dorothee Soelle, for example, says: "The tendency to isolate Christian faith from the social order has meant, among other things, that mainstream theology has failed to address work in the context of creation and redemption. It has ignored the worlds of pain created by the structural organization of our work. It has unconsciously or often even cynically obscured our creation as workers in the image of 'the great artist.' Christianity has a long record of complicity in bad, meaningless, or harmful work. This is the result not just of insufficient ethical reflection, but also of the inability to perceive Christ's work in returning the world to its people. Resurrection from sin's power happens in good work. We still wait for good work. Through good work we are revealed, in our creative empowerment, as children of God.''22 Senge is one of many organizational-change experts who see a pressing need for a new, holistic spirituality of information-age work.23 Senge's comments about spirituality and organizational change are particularly striking both because of the wide accep-tance his approach to organizational change has gained and because of the scholarly foundation that supports his work. The "Christianity has a long record of complicity in bad, meaningless, or harmful work." September-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities fact that Senge and his colleagues stress spirituality so strongly, albeit clumsily, indicates that this area is being given more and more serious consideration by professionals in the field of orga-nization development. It is clear, therefore, that the only certainty amidst the turmoil in our workplaces today is that we must learn how to learn. A host of inexorable forces such as the explosion of information, the shrinking of the global marketplace, the reordering of social priorities, and the emergence of new technologies is reshaping every sector of the working world. Both the environment and our work requirements are changing, and changing more and more rapidly. In times of such pervasive change, neither individual workers nor work organizations are likely to be effective unless they can learn easily, quickly, and well. An important part of all knowledge work today is the transformation of our work organi-zations into learning communities. The Spirituality of Learning Learning is not only a critical issue for the information age; it is also a fruitful theme for spirituality. Learning has often been seen by the spiritual and religious traditions of the world as a path to holiness. Jean Leclercq's classic work on medieval monas-ticism, The Love of Learning and the Desire for God, beautifully cap-tures one manifestation of this intimate relationship between learning and spirituality.24 We do not have space here to sample all the rich and varied ways theologians have interpreted the role of learning in spirituality. We will focus instead on just one the-ologian who has had a widespread effect on contemporary Christian theology, Karl Rahner. Epistemological concerns are at the foundation of Rahner's understanding of Christianity, and in that sense his theology is a theology of learning. His insights can readily be translated into a spirituality of learning which deep-ens the way we see the purpose, process, and products of learning. First, Rahner changes the way we see the process of learning by showing us that learning always involves self-transcendence.2s For Rahner, learning is an activity which is necessarily rooted in our nonconceptual awareness of God. We can know finite things only because we can transcend them and experience God. Learning is possible for us because we are embodied spirits (Geist-irn- Welt) capable of self-transcendence. We are able to learn about Reviezv for Religious our material, temporal world precisely because we can reach beyond it and open ourselves to the infinite horizon of absolute mystery. This preapprehension (Vorgriff) of God is the condition for the possibility of any and every act of learning. Every time we learn anything, we experience our transcendental openness to God. When we explore the spirituality of learning, we are not introducing a transcendent element to the learning process, but rather affirming one that is already there. This means that we can never entirely understand, much less hope to control, the process of learning. We generally think of learning as a skill that we can direct and develop, and it is. Most of us expend energy throughout our lifetimes not only learning but learning how to learn. As teachers, parents, colleagues, or friends, we are also regularly called upon to direct the learning of others. We even assume that some people are such proficient learners that they will inevitably be master teachers. But the fact that our ability to learn depends upon our transcendental open-ness to the horizon of absolute mystery means that the learning process transcends our control. All learning requires that we sur-render ourselves to our capacity for self-transcendence. And, if we want to help others learn, we have to support their self-tran-scendence. We will generate very little new learning if we restrict or manipulate the learning process. Ultimately, learning is not a skill to be mastered but a mystery to be loved. Practicing a spir-ituality of learning, then, means creating space for the experience of self-transcendence to happen. Second, Rahner's theology of freedom changes the way we see the products of learning by showing that learning always involves our free self-creation.26 Learning is an expression of the capacity we have as embodied spirits to act freely. The prod-ucts of our free acts are not simply choices between particular goods. Freedom is also a process through which we create our-selves. Whenever we exercise our freedom, we not only make a choice about a particular good; we also make a choice about our-selves. The decisions we make determine who we are as persons in relationship to God and the world. Some of our free acts so totally engage us that they constitute fiandamental choices about who we are. Other acts engage us less completely and serve to confirm or,deny the fundamental selves we have chosen to become. But every exercise of our freedom in some way is an act of self-creation. Septentber-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities Since we exercise our freedom whenever we learn, every act of learning is an act of self-creation. We usually assume that the products of learning are new ways of thinking and acting. But, for Rahner, our own self-creation is also a product of every act of learning. Whenever we learn, we not only learn about something particular; we also help determine who we will become as per-sons. Learning is not just a process through which we adopt new behaviors or ideas; it is a process of creating ourselves. Each choice we make about what, why, or how we will learn contributes in some way to our self-realization. The criteria by which we assess the products .of our learning, therefore, need to include the question of whether we are becoming more fully human, Measured by this criterion, learning which does not support holis-tic human development is fundamentally flawed. People who resist learning risk dehumanizing themselves just as much as those who resist loving. This is not to say that our value as persons is depen-dent upon how bright we are. Learning can no more be reduced to intelligence than love can be reduced to emotion. But learning and loving are critical to our self-realization because both are ways we fulfill our human potential for relationship with the world and the mystery of God. Practicing a spirituality of learning, therefore, means honoring this process of self-creati0n. Third, Rahner's theology of grace changes the way we see the purpose of learning.27 For Rahner, our transcendental orientation to the holy mystery has been universally graced by God's self-communication. Grace is not a gift from God but the gift of God, In our "natural" experience of transcendence, the absolute.mystery of God is present to us as the horizon which we can only approach asymptotically. We believe, however, that God has not remained the distant horizon of human transcendence, but has graciously drawn near to us as free and forgiving love. We never experience our transcendence, therefore, as purely natural and ungraced. The transcendence we actually experience has been radically trans-formed by God's self-gift, which is always present at least as an invitation made to our freedom. Grace is the fulfillment of our deepest human potential as embodied spirits to be filled with the infinite God. Grace makes possible for us the immediate experi-ence of God, which is always mediated by our historicity and mate-riality. But God becomes closer, not less of a mystery, in the experience of grace. Grace is the self-communication of God as the absolute mystery who remains absolute mystery. Review for Religious This theology of grace implies, then, that the ultimate purpose of learning is not to know more, but to be known more.28 When we learn, we do not simply gather new information or master additional skills; rather, we open ourselves to the self-communi-cation of God. The deepest purpose of learning is that it leads us to the point where we surrender to God's knowing of us. Learning is a privileged opportunity to enter more deeply into the abyss of the absolute mystery of God. Learning is at its best not simply when it is rooted in good principles of pedagogy or andragogy, but when it is a form of mystagogy. The process of learning, then, develops our potential to be mystics. Rahner believed that everyone is called to be a mystic.29 Mysticism is not primarily about paranormal experiences, but about attending to hidden experiences of the mystery of God in daily life. It is difficult to be a mystic, not because God is so distant, but because. God is so present. The challenge isto find ways to notice the gracious presence of God in the midst of everything in our lives, This is easier to do in some expe-riences than others. Oddly enough, our experiences of the goodness and beauty of life are not necessarily the best places to look for God. Rahner believed that we perceive the presence of God most clearly in those events in which we struggle with our limitations. Our experiences of lim-itation bring us right to the threshold of the presence of God. To the extent that we can attend to how we transcend the limita-tions we face, we open ourselves to the mystery of God. The pro-cess of learning offers abundant opportunities to struggle with limitations and experience God. Whenever we really attempt to learn, we strain to see beyond the limits of what we currently know. If we have the courage to face the limits of what we know, therefore, we invite God to enter more deeply into our lives. Rahner shows us that the process, products, and purpose of learning have spiritual depths that we normally overlook. Learning is not a neutral process of inquiry that only takes on a spiritual character when we choose to focus it on religious phenomena. Learning is intrinsically spiritual and is one of the most impor-tant ways we have to experience God. It is not surprising that tell- Learning can no more be reduced to intelligence than love can be reduced to emotion. September-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities gious traditions throughout the world have revered learning as a path to holiness. Whatever enhances our capacity to learn fosters our spiritual, development, whether we recognize it as such or not. Disciplines for Creating Learning Communities As the 20th century draws to a close, we are beginning to glimpse how our lives will be different in the information age. But, because this new age of work is only now coming into focus, it is impossible to see yet what all of its spiritual opportunities and challenges will be. Nonetheless, we can be certain that learn-ing will become increasingly important to the work we do. The growing significance of learning makes a new way of integrating spirituality and work possible. The most effective spirituality of work for the information age will be one based on helping us transform our workplaces into learning communities. We defined the spirituality.of work above as a way of work-ing which fosters the transformation of our work and our work-places so that together with our coworkers we may achieve our fullest development as human beings. This means that a spiritu-ality of work should be a way of working, not a way of practicing religi6us activities or enjoying esoteric experiences. It should sup-port our complete human development. And it should foster the transformation of our work communities, not just our growth as individuals. A spirituality of work which is based on creating :learn-ing communities meets these three criteria. First, since it focuses on learning, such a spirituality advocates a way of working which is not explicitly religious, and which is appropriate, even vital, to the information-age workplace. Second, since the learning process engages the fundamental basis of our human identity, our capac-ity for self-transcendence, the process of learning is a particu-larly powerful way of supporting holistic human development. Third, such a spirituality of work draws us beyond caring for our individual growth into building learning communities with one another. But, if it is to help us engage in the difficult process of con-version and growth,, this spirituality of work needs to be incarnated in particular disciplines. The major spiritualities of the West have generally encouraged disciplines such as meditation, prayer, fast-ing, reading, and service as concrete means of achieving spiritual growth. There is no qu~sti6n that such disciplines will continue Review for Religious to have an important role in a fully developed spiritual life. But, since the spirituality of work attempts to engage us in a different and more specific kind of transformation than that of traditional spiritualities, it will need to encourage some additional, new dis-ciplines. The disciplines for a spirituality of work in the infor-mation age will be the disciplines for developing organizational learning. Organizational-learning researchers have over the past fifty years advanced our understanding of what those disciplines are. Peter Senge, for example, has organized them into five sets: per-sonal mastery, shared vision, mental models, team learning, and systems thinking. Each of these disci-plines has to do with helping us develop the skills to learn effectively as individ-uals and groups. There are three distinct levels to these disciplines: practices, principles, and essences. The practices are the specific activities which con-cretely express the discipline. They are the primary focus for those beginning to follow the discipline. The underlying principles are the theoretical bases for the practice of the disciplines. Progressing in the disciplines requires following the practices and understand-ing the principles. The essences are the state of being which comes to be experienced by individuals or groups that have mastered the discipline. At this level Senge's learning disciplines are united by a common sensibility: that we are learners in an intrinsically interdependent world.3° Personal mastery is the discipline of continually clarifying and deepening our personal vision, of focusing our energies, of developing patience, and of seeing reality objectively. It involves learning to expand our personal capacity to create the results we most desire and to create an organizational environment that encourages all its members to develop themselves toward the goals and purposes they choose. The practices of this discipline include various techniques for clarifying our personal vision and for holding a creative tension between the results we desire and our grasp of current reality. Senge sees the discipline of personal mastery as the spiritual foundation for a learning organization. The disciplines for a spirituality of work in the information age will be the disciplines for developing organizational learning. September-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities The discipline of shared vision is the collective version of the discipline of personal mastery. The discipline of shared vision builds a sense of commitment in the groups we work with by developing shared .images of the future we seek to create and the principles and guiding practices by which we hope to get there. The practices of this discipline involve techniques for helping groups both acknowledge their current realities and develop a shared picture of their future that fosters sincere commitment. This discipline assumes that, when there is genuine shared vision, people excel and learn because they want to, not because they are told to. Like the discipline of personal mastery, the discipline of men-tal models is an individually oriented dis.cipline. Senge sees men~ tal models as the deeply ingrained assumptions and generalizations that influence how we understand the world and take action. The discipline of mental models helps us reflect upon, clarify, and improve these internal pictures of the world and see how they shape our actions and decisions. The practice of this discipline also helps us learn how to carry on "learningful" conversations that get us to expose our own thinking effectively and make that thinking open to the influence of others. The discipline of team learning is the collective counterpart of the discipline of mental models. This discipline transforms conversational and collective thinking skills so that a team of coworkers increases its collective intelligence and its ability to take coordinated action. The heart of this discipline is the theory and practice of dialogue. Dialogue challenges team members to suspend assumptions and enter into genuine thinking together. Team learning also involves recognizing the patterns of interac-tion in teams that undermine learning. The most critical learning discipline for Senge is the disci-pline of systems thinking. He sees it as the discipline that inte-grates the other disciplines into a coherent body of theory and practice. Systems thinking is a way of thinking about and a lan-guage for describing ~he forces and interrelationships that shape the behavior of systems. It makes the full patterns of a system clearer and helps us see how to change them effectively. Systems thinking helps us shift from seeing problems as caused by some-one or something external to seeing how our own actions create the problems we experience. Once we discover how we create our reality, we can then change it. Review for Religious When they are used together, the methods of organizational learning represented by these five disciplines have been proven to have great potential for transforming our workplaces into learn-ing communities. They provide us with the concrete theories and strategies we need so that together with our coworkers we can not only learn, but learn how to learn. By virtue of the fact that they expand our capacity to learn, these disciplines also foster our spiritual development. The disciplines of organizational learn-ing help us to learn in new ways and so broaden our opportuni-ties to experience the spiritual depths of learning. The most effective spirituality of work for the information age will focus on transforming our work organizations into learn-ing communities. It will do so by integrating disciplines of orga-nizational learning with insights from the spiritual traditions. This paper has contributed to this integration. New approaches to organizational learning such as the ones we have mentioned here provide the spirituality of work with the concrete disciplines it needs to develop learning communities. At the same time, the insights which our spiritual and religious traditions can provide deepen our understanding of what is at stake in the transforma-tion of work. We will be able to create meaning~l spiritualities of work in this new era only if we continue to engage in this process of integration. Notes ~ William E. May, "Work, Theology of," in The New Dictionary of Catholic Social Thought, ed. Judith A. Duryer (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1994), pp. 991-1002; Karen Ready, "Work," in The Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade (New York: Macmillan Publishing Co, 1987), vol. 15, pp. 441-444; Edward C. Sellner, "Work," in The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality, ed. Michael Downey (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993), pp. 1044-1051; Francis Schiissler Fiorenza, "Religious Beliefs and Pr'axis: Reflections on Catholic Theological Views of Work," in Work and Religion, ed. Gregory Baum (New York: Seabury Press, 1980), pp. 92-102. 2 Marie-Dominique Chenu, "Work," in Sacramentum Mundi: An Encyclopedia of Theology, ed. Karl Rahner (New York: Herder and Herder, 1970), vol. 6. 3 Karl Rahner, "Concerning the Relationship between Nature and Grace," in Theological Investigations (Baltimore: Helicon, 1961), vol. 1, pp. 297-317; "Nature and Grace," in Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1982), vol. 4, pp. 165-188; Foundations of Christian Faith: An Introduction to the Idea of Chr#tianity (New York: Crossroad, 1978). 4Walter Principe, "Toward Defining Spirituality," Studies in Religion Septentber-October 1998 Skelley ¯ Learning Communities 12 (1983): 127-141; Sandra Schneiders, "Spirituality in the Academy," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 676-697. s Hans Kiing and Karl-Josef Kuschel, A Global Ethic: The Declaration of tbe Parliament of the World's Religions (New York: Continuum, 1993). 6 Joseph Holland. Creative Communion: Toward a Spirituality of Work (New York: Paulist Press, 1989), pp. 24-26. 7 Frederick W. Taylor, The Principles of Scientific Management (New York: Harper and Bros., 1911); Marvin R. Weisbord, Productive Workplaces: Organizing and Managing for Dignity~ Meaning, and Community (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1987), pp. 50-69, 8 Peter Drucker Post-Capitalist Society (New York: HarperBusiness, 1993), p. 5. 9 "John Paul II, On Human Work (Laborem Exercens) (Washington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, 1981); Dorothee Soelle with Shirley A. Cloyes, 7~ Work and to Love: A Theology of Creation (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984); Joe Holland, Creative Communion; Lee Hardy, The Fabric of This World: Inquiries into .Calling, Career Choice, and the Design of Human Work (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1990); Miroslav Volf, Work in the Spirit: Toward a Theology of Work (New York: Oxford University, 1991); John C. Haughey, Converting 9 to Y: A Spirituality of Daily Work (New York, Crossroad, 1989). l0 Drucker, Post-Capitalist Society, p. 5; Charles Handy, The Age of Unreason (Boston: Harvard Business School, 1989), pp. 34-35, 50-51. *~ Drucker, "The Age of Social Transformation," Atlantic Monthly (November 1994): 53-80. ~2 Drucker, The New Realities (New York: Harper, 1989), p. 173. ,3 Drucker, Post-Capitalist Society, p. 49. 14 A large and important segment of experts in this field prefers to call.the discipline "organizational transformation." See John D. Adams, ed., Transforming Work: A Collection of Organizational Transformation Readings (Alexandria: Miles River Press, 1984). ,s Thomas G. Cummings and Christopher G. Worley, Organization Development and Change (Minneapolis: West Publishing, 1993), p. 2. ~6 Chris Argyris and Donald A. Sch6n, Organizational Learning II: Theory, Method, and Practice (Reading: Addison-Wesley Publishing, 1996), ~7 Peter Senge, The Fifth Discipline: The Art and Practice of Learning Organizations (New York: Doubleday, 1990), p. 3. 18 Peter Senge et al., eds., The Fij~h Discipline Fieldbook: Strategies and Tools for Building a Learning Organization (New York: Doubleday, 1994), pp. 9-12. 19Argyris and Sch6n, Organizational II, p. xvii. 20 Senge, "Communities of Commitment: The Heart of Learning Organizations," in The Learning Organization in Action: A Special Report from Organizational Dynamics (New 'York: American Management Association, 1994), pp. 9-15. Review for Religious 21 Holland, Creative Communion, pp. 18-42, and Matthew Fox, The Reinvention of Work: A New Vision of Livelihood for Our Time (HarperSanFrancisco, 1994). 22.Soelle, 7~ Work and to Love, p. 112. 23 Adams, Transforming Work; Peter Hawkins, "The Spiritual Dimension of the Learning Organization," Management Education and Development 22 (1991): 172-187; Peter Block, Stewardship: Choosing Service over Self-Interest (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler, 1993); Alan Briskin, The Stirring of Soul in the Workplace (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1996); Harrison Owen, Spirit: Transformation and Development in Organizations (Potomac: Abbot, 1987); and Tony Smith, Parzival's Briefcase: Six Practices and a New Philosophy for Healthy Organizational Change (San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1993). 24 Jean Leclercq, The Love of Learning and the Desire for God: A Study of Monastic Culture (New York: Fordham University Press, 1961). 2s Karl Rahner, Spirit in the World (Montreal: Palm Publishers, 1968), pp. 57-383; Hearer of the Word(New York: Continuum, 1994), pp. 1-54; and, Foundations of Christian Faith, pp. 14-23, 26-35. 26 Karl Rahner, "Theology of Freedom," Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1982), vol. 6, pp. 178-196; Foundations of Christian Faith, pp., 35-39; "The Dignity and Freedom of Man," Theological Investigations (Baltimore: Helicon, 1963), vol. 2, pp. 246-263. 27 Karl Rahner, "Concerning the Relationship between Nature and Grace," pp. 297-317; "Some Implications of the Scholastic Concept of Uncreated Grace," Theological Investigations (Baltimore: Helicon, 1961), vol. 1, pp. 319-346; "Nature and Grace," Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1982), vol. 4, pp. 165-188; Foundations of Christian Faith,. pp. 116-133. 28 Parker J. Palmer, 7b Know as We are Known: Education as a Spiritual Journey (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993). 29 Karl Rahner, "The Experience of God Today," Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1982), vol. 11, pp. 149-165; "Experience of the Holy Spirit," Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1983), vol. 18, pp. 189-210; "Christian Living Formerly and Today," Theological Investigations (New York: Seabury, 1977), vol. 7, pp. 3- 24. 30 This and other ideas below are developed in Senge, The Fifth Discipline, and in Senge et al., The Fifth Discipline Fieldbook. Septe~nber-October 1998 gnatian spirituality JOHN J. BEGLEY The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises This article~ proposes a contemporary understanding of Jesus' parables, and it shouts their importance for the dynamic of the Spiritual Exercises. Those familiar with St. Ignatius's book are aware that he does not propose the parables for prayer during the Exercises. Several reasons, however, prompt the exploration of this relationship. First, contemporary scripture studies stress the importance of the parables in the Jesus' teaching, and including them within the Exercises can enrich that experience. Second, we take the New Testament seriously as the starting point of our prayer, and we want that prayer grounded in the best understanding of the New Testament that solid con-temporary scholarship can provide; Third, the parables make up a full third of Jesus' teaching, and so any attempt to "put on the mind that was in Christ Jesus" (Ph 2:5) cannot afford to overlook them. Finally, for retreatants who are troubled by doubt concerning what Jesus really said, the parables deserve our close attention. As a pio-neer of modern parable study has said, "We are standing on a particularly firm historical foundation., part of the bedrock of tradition. We are standing right before Jesus when reading his parables" (Jeremias, p. 5). Later we will discuss the dynamic of the Exercises in some detail. For the moment it will be useful to recall John J. Begley SJ teaches in the Department of Theology and Religious Studies; University of Scranton; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510. Revie~ for Religious both the purpose of the Exercises and the purpose of the parables. Their similar purposes will readily appear. The purpose of the Exercises is "the conquest of self and the regulation of one's life in such a way that no decision is made under the influence of any inordinate attachment" (§21). Behind the somewhat archaic phras-ing is the understanding that the Exercises have as their purpose to lead "a person to true spiritual freedom, so that we make no choice or decision because we have been influenced by some dis-ordered ,attachment" (Fleming, Spiritual Exercises, §21). Similarly, the. parables' "purpose is to effect a change in the hearer, to lead to decision or action" (Boucher, p. 16-17). We begin with the parables. As Raymond Brown has remarked, "The study of the parables has generated an immense literature and sharp debates" (p. 132). We' will try to make the most of recent scholarship and to avoid controverted issues. Given the literature and the debates, it is difficult to capture the mean-ingof the parables in a single definition. J.R. Donahue in his Gospelin Parable (p. 5) cites approvingly C.H. Dodd's inductively derived definition; it will serve our purpose well. "At its simplest the parable is a metaphor or simile drawn from nature or common life, arresting the hearer by its vividness or strangeness, and leav-ing the ,mind in sufficient doubt about its precise application to tease it into active thought." As metaphor, the familiar and better known--a mustard seed, for example--is compared to the less familiar kingdom of God. The kingdom is compared to and illuminated by something bet-ter known and more readily imagined. In the context of a retreat, the astonishing growth of a tiny mustard seed into a large bush illumines the growth of the retreatant's relationship with God, which is God's work in the retreatant. As a metaphor, it moves people, to greater participation in the more obscure retreat mate-rial being described or explained. Metaphor talks of the familiar so that one can participate in the less familiar (Crossan, p. 16 ). We may note that there are parables in the Hebrew Bible: the trees (Jg 9:7-15), for example, and the ewe lamb (2 K 12:1-4). The rabbis used parables for the normal pedagogical purposes of illustrating and illuminating their teaching. The listeners of Jesus were familiar with the genre. Jesus subordinated the familiar uses of the parable to his primary purpose of proclaiming the king-dom, of sounding the call and challenge to embrace the conditions of living in the kingdom. The parables of Jesus transcend any September-October 1998 Begley ¯ The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises previous use, for he thereby expresses what cannot be expressed by any other means than symbol and metaphor: the kingdom of God. The parables, like other, symbolic expressions, are polyva-lent. No single meaning exhausts their content. Parables cannot be reduced to a proposition. Modern parable study begins with several commonly accepted suppositions. First, the early church supplied the context of the parables as they appear in the narratives of Jesus' ministry, and we must bracket off that context if we wish to hear the parable as Jesus spoke it. For example, the command "Go and do likewise" (Lk 10:37) presently concludes the parable of the Good Samaritan. The common judgment, however, is that it does not belong to the parable as Jesus taught it, and so we exclude it from consid-eration. As we will see, the bracketing changes the parable's mean-ing dramatically. Second, the tradition has at times changed a parable of Jesus into an allegory. For example, in Mark's Gospel the parable of the sower appears both as Jesus taught it (4:3-9) and as the early church preserved it as an allegory (4:13-20). This is not to say that allegory is improper. However, to recover the para-bles as Jesus taught them, we avoid the allegorical interpretation. Other parables, such as that of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:29-37), have in their transmission become example stories. As the message about Jesus was proclaimed in a non-Jewish culture, its second generation non-Jewish listeners were unfamiliar with the mean-ing of Samaritan, priest, and Levite. The parable became an exam-ple story, lessening the challenge of the original parable. We are not suggesting a single interpretation to the exclu-sion of all others, whether that interpretation is traditional or contemporary. The parable of the prodigal, for example, is fre-quently understood as a parable of God's mercy. As the First Week progresses, a retreatant may suggest to her director, as the result of her own understanding and experience, that she would like to spend some time during the First Week praying over The Prodigal as a parable of God's merciful love. The director must respect the retreatant's freedom and the gift of her prayer. In days to come in the retreat, as discretion suggests, the director can pro-pose the parable once again with a different interpretation drawn from modern parable study. Both interpretations are valid. Retreatants find two contributions of J. Dominic Crossan particularly helpful. First is the manner in which he has located the parables in Jesus' own experience. To a previous observation Review for Religious that parables move people to greater participation in the matter a parable illustrates, it is important to add that "Jesus' parables are radically constitutive of his own distinctive historicity, and all else is located in them" (Crossan, p. 33). They proclaim and they establish the historicity of Jesus' response to the kingdom. There is an intrinsic bond between Jesus' experience and his expression of that experience in parables. Parables are cause and not effect of what Jesus said and did (Crossan, p. 32). Retreatants find it very attractive to pray over the parables and thereby to enter into the experience of Jesus. Second, Crossan's classification of the various parables as expressions of the kingdom's temporality (as advent, as reversal, and as action) is most help-ful. As we'will see, the parables of reversal in particular have an important role to play in the Exercises. One final observation is important. For some few commentators, Crossan among them, the urgency of the para-bles is related to the ever present now of the kingdom. While it would be interesting to consider the range of scholarly opinions on the relation of the kingdom to the end time, it seems better to avoid the confusion which could result. One scholar, Donald Senior, has preserved the urgency of the parables without enter-ing into the controverted question of eschatology. He writes, "The kingdom may be future but the choice is now" (Senior, p. 93). The temporality of the kingdom in terms of advent, reversal, and action appears in two paradigmatic parables which model all three modes of the kingdom. "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field" (Mr 13:44). "The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; onfinding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it" (Mr 13:45-46). The parables are simi-lar in structure, as revealed by the three verbs common to both. To unpack but one, in the parable of the treasure hidden in a field, we hear of a man whose nor.mal past-present-future is rudely but happily shattered. The future, which he has presumably planned and projected for himself, is totally invalidated by the finding (advent) of the treasure, which opens up new worlds and There is an intrinsic bond between Jesus' experience and his expression of that experience in parables. September- October 1998 Begley ¯ The Parables of Jesus and the I~natian Exercises unforeseen possibilities. In the force of this advent, he willingly reverses his entire past and acts to sell all that he has. From this advent and this reversal, he obtains the treasure that now dictates his future history in a most concrete way. It gives him a new life that he could not have planned for~himself and a new world in which to live this life (Crossan, p. 34). Advent parables are fewer than parables of reversal, ~which in turn are fewer than those of action. The frequency distribution probably reflects later tradition's needs rather than the frequency with which Jesus spoke them. Later generations experienced the advent of God in the paschal mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus and so felt less need to preserve the parables of advent. Advent parables stress one or another of three themes: hid-denness and mystery, gift and surprise, discovery and joy. For example, in the sower and mustard-seed parables, there are sharp juxtapositions of two states. In The, Sower, three instances of sow-ing loss are contrasted with three instances of harvest gain. In The Mustard Seed the contrast is between the small seed sown and the ample shade of the fully grown plant. The parables are not concerned with growth but with miracle, "not the organic and biological development but the gift-like nature, the graciousness and surprise of the ordinary, the advent of the bountiful harvest despite the losses of sowing, the large shade despite the small seed. In these ways the kingdom is advent. It is surprise and it is gift" (Crossan, pp. 37-51, emphasis added). To turn now to the First Week of the Spiritual Exercises, con-temporary experience of both directors and retreatants under-scores the advent character of the First Week. It would be impossible to number the retreatants who have summed up their First Week experience by saying, "It is all gift." In whatever man-ner the topics Ignatius proposes for prayer are treated--topics such as sin and punishment in the history of the world and in the self, past and present--the result is not a self broken by sorrow and remorse, but rather a self healed and given new life and freedom. It is an experience of one's own sinfulness, to be sure, but it is much more an experience of God's love embracing me with all of my sinfulness. The darkness of my sinfulness is shattered by the brilliance of God's reconciling, healing love. The modern mind reading the Exercises understands Ignatius's "cry of wonder" (§60) to rise from the felt awareness of God's love as experienced in the wonder of creation, in the wondei" of Review for Religious others who have been sources of life for me, in the wonder of myself as gifted, graced, and loved. The retreatant realizes, in the phrase that has become a familiar experiential reality for those who have made at least the First Week of the Exercises, that she is a "loved sinner." Mthough memories of the past, or feelings of inadequacy, fear, or self-rejection may have gripped the retreatant, now the redemptive love of God has set the exercitant free, desirous of reordering her life more effectively "to the end for which we are created" (§23). At this point the retreatant has experi-enced what in Crossan's language is called advent. To the retreatant have been revealed the hiddenness and the mystery, the gift and surprise, the discovery and joy of the king-dom. One or another of all these parable themes describes the retreatant's experience as she concludes the First Week. What had remained hidden, the mystery of the self as loved by God, has been discovered with joy as the surprising gift of God's love. In the manner of the discovery of a pearl of great price--which cannot be explained by either the skill of the direc-tor, the dispositions of the retreatant, or natural psychological development--the retreatant experiences the sheer joy of one who is loved and affirmed in the depths of the self, not despite who one is but precisely as one is. This is the important meaning of the advent parables of Jesus, and the retreatant can profitably pray over them during the First Week. From the first meditation of the First Week, the retreatant's attention has been focused on the crucified Lord, whose love for-gives and frees. In his presence the retreatant has asked, "What ought I to do for Christ?" (§53). Having experienced advent, the retreatant is now in a position to consider what return she shall make to the Lord whose love has opened for her a new way of life, more abundant than she ever thought possible. The loved sinner desires to be a loving servant. The retreatant is ready for the Second Week, in which parables of reversal and action have an important part to play. These parables have. as their purpose "to effect a change in the hearer, to lead to decision or action" (Boucher, pp. 16-17). More To the retreatant have been revealed the hiddenness and the mystery, the gift and surprise, the discovery and joy of the kingdom. Septentber-October 1998 Begley ¯ The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises dramatically but not less surely, the parables of reversal look to the situation where "the last becomes first and the first becomes last, We have a polar reversal, When the north pole becomes the south pole and the south the north,, a world is reversed and overturned" (Crossan, p. 55) The world that is meant here is the inner world of values, priorities, and motives. It is the inner world of atti-tudes, dispositions, habitual judgments, This reversal is very much what Ignatius proposes to the retreatant at this point in the Exercises. The readiness to turn my familiar world upside down is the necessary predisposition for a good election. Ignatius underscores this in his singularly important consid-eration on the Two Standards. In an introduction to this medita-tion (§135). Ignatius reminds us that the following of Christ in loving service admits of various degrees; the sincere following of the commandments, which has been considered in meditating on Jesus' obedience to his parents, and the state of evangelical per-fection, which was considered in the youthful Jesus remaining behind in the temple. Now the retreatant, while continuing to investigate his life, is to begin to consider and to pray for a knowl-edge of the kind of life to which the Lord summons her. In the Two Standards Ignatius asks the retreatant to imagine Christ mak-ing an address "to all his servants and friends whom he sends on this enterprise." In his address he reverses the strategy of his adversary, "the chief of all the enemy," who stands beneath the first standard. As Ignatius sums up what the retreatant is, to con-sider, he says, "Hence there will be three steps: the first, poverty as opposed to riches; the second, insults or contempt ~as opposed to the honor of this world; the third, humility as opposed to pi'ide (§146, emphasis added). The .colloquy that concludes the Two Standards meditation is to be repeated at the end of each of the five periods of prayer every day until the election has been made. This threefold collo-quy addressed first to Mary, then to her 'Son, and finally to the Father is for the grace to be received under his standard, where the disciple of Christ can expect to bear poverty and humiliations in imitation of him. In a note to the subsequent Meditation on Three Classes of Men, Ignatius advises the retreatant: "It should be noted that when we feel an attachment opposed to actual poverty or a repugnance to it. it will be very helpful in order to :overcome the inordinate attachment, even though corrupt nature rebel against it, to beg our Lord in the Colloquies to choose Review for Religqous us to serve him in actual poverty" (§ 157). As Ignatius makes clear, such a disposition does not come easily: "We should insist that we desire it, beg for it, plead for it, provided of course that it be for the service and praise of the DiVine Goodness" (§157). At the critical time of making a decision that will define the self in relation to the Lord, to others, and to the contingencies of experience, the parables of reversal will serve the retreatant's need very well. It is helpful to recall that the parables represent a call which is absolute (the kingdom cannot be subordinated to any other concern) and that this absolute call is not specific (as the command to love is not specified for each particular circumstance of human life). Indeed, it is the absolute but nonspecific nature of the call of Christ to "follow me" (here and now, or later?) that requires discernment in order to come to a properly ordered deci-sion. The absolute but nonspecific call of the parables is empha-sized in the Exercises as well. The call of Christ in the Meditation on the Kingdom is abso-lute: "Whoever wishes to join me in this enterprise must be will-ing to labor with me, that by following me in suffering he may follow me in glory" (§95.). However, the manner in which one "labors with me" is not specified. Ignatius, in the oblation which concludes the Kingdom, speaks of poverty, humiliatiqns, and humility, but ~does not specify the manner in which "those who wish to give greater proof of their love, and to distinguish them-selves in whatever concerns theservice of:~the eternal King" (§97), will incarnate the proof of their love. The specification is the goal of the retreat and requires the prayer and discernment of the retreatant. Second, the change in the "world" of the retreatant, which the First Week begins and the Second Week develops, is precisely the retreatant's world of values and judgments, of desires and priorities, of hopes and dreams. The parables of reversal chal-lenge this world of the retreatant, who, through the reciprocal process of praying the parables and "reflecting on myself," begins to investigate and ask in what kind or state of life God wishes to make use of me (§135). The retreatant enters into "the mind of Christ" (Ph 2:5) and prays to make his mind her own. The parables, which communi-cate the experience of Jesus and not conclusions or admonitions, assist the retreatant to enter into her own experience of the Kingdom and to draw from that experience her own way of life. To accept the parables and the experience they offer is to take on September-October 1998 Begley ¯ The Parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises a new personal perspective, a new way of interpreting and valu-ing, of deciding and acting. In a word, the retreatant develops a different and more refined set of principles, insights, and critical judgments which can be termed a personal hermeneutic. It is to grow in faith. It is worthwhile to note that the theme of reversal is an essen-tial theme of the teaching of Jesus and of the parables. The beloved Good Samaritan parable (Lk 10:25-37) has tradition-ally been heard as an example of neighborliness. In the wake of Jeremias's study, commentators today suggest that the parable has been reconstructed in the course of transmission. The con-text (Jesus' conversation with a lawyer) and his concluding com-mand ("Go and do likewise," §37) have been provided by the early church and have to be removed from consideration if we are to .come closer to the parable as Jesus spoke it. At a distance both geographical and temporal from the world of Samaritans, priests, and Levites, the story lacked the immediacy that it had for the first listeners of Jesus, and this parable of reversal has been changed by the second-generation of Christians into an example story. Once the parable is allowed to stand on its own, it is no longer simply a story of the neighborliness that fulfills the law, but becomes a parable of reversaL Crc;ssan has brilliantly noted that, if the parable is primar-ily to provide an illustration of neighbor love or an indictment of heartless religious leaders, then help offered by a Jewish layperson would have made the proper point. The shock is that it is the Samaritan who stops. At the remove of centuries, it is easy for us to overlook the hatred that existed between Jews and Samaritans. During the period of the Exile, the Samaritans had intermarried with non-Jews, had opposed the restoration of the Jewish temple, and in the 2nd century B.C. had actually helped the Syrians in their wars against the Jews. The Jewish high priest had burned the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim, and the Samaritans had scattered the bones of a corpse in. the Jerusalem temple, thereby defiling it and making it impossible to celebrate Passover. The Samaritans did not accept the whole of the canon-ical Jewish Scriptures. They refused hospitality to Jesus and his disciples because they were on their way to Jerusalem (Lk 9:52- 53). The Jews believed they had insulted Jesus by calling him a Samaritan (Jn 4:7-10), and Jesus himself warned his disciples to avoid the Samaritan territory (Mt 10:5). Review for Religious The shock of the parable, calling for a reversal of attitudes on the part of its hearers, is that the one who helps the Jewish victim and fulfills the law is the enemy and religious apostate. The parable reverses our understanding of who God is and whom God approves. It destroys a narrow, legalistic under-standing of the law and reveals the hatred and divisions which had become institutionalized. The world of the lawyer and his fellow listeners is turned upside down. They are to speak the unspeakable; they are to join the apparent contradictories "good" and "Samaritan." Another parable of reversal that can be useful during the Second Week is that of the Prodigal Son. It is lengthy (Luke 15:11-32) and so well .known that we need not retell it here. In Crossan's interpretation the reversal is located in the presence of the prodigal at the banquet while his dutiful older brother is out-side pouting (Crossan, p. 75). Merely to state the reversal in this way is to grip the imagination of the retreatant. It calls for a rever-sal of mind and heart that must be prayed over until it is interi-orized and can then move the retreatant toward her election/decision with gratitude and enthusiasm. Another approach to the Prodigal Son (Donahue, pp. 151- 157) may be even more helpful to the retreatant. Here the rever-sal is in our understanding, of what constitutes a relationship to God. Both sons define sonship in terms of servile obligation: "Treat me as one of your hired servants," says the younger son; "I have slaved for you," says his older brother. Each in his own way destroys the family. "As the younger son felt that the way~ to restore the severed relationship was to become a servant, the older brother maintained it by acting as a servant. Between the dutiful son and the prodigal is a bond much deeper than is visible on the surface . A relationship . . . worked out in terms of servility leads to destruction. The relationship as redefined by the father leads to joy" (Donahue, p. 157). Some women may find it difficult to pray with the images of "father" and "sons." Sandra Schneiders has captured the power of the parable from a feminist perspective: "Jesus' parable about the father actually constitutes a radical challenge to patriarchy. The divine father who has been understood as the ultimate justification of human patriarchy is revealed as the one who refuses to own us, demand our submission, or punish our rebellion. Rather, God is the one who respects our freedom, mourns our alienation, waits Septentber-October 1998 Begley * The Parables of yesus and the Ignatian Exercises patiently for our return, and accepts our love as pure gift" (cited by Donahue, pp. 161-162). The parable conveys the essential mindset for understanding discipleship and for making the decision that leads to more faith-ful discipleship. Crossan has expressed it perfectly in his discus-sion of the primary issue between Jesus and the Pharisees: "Obedience does not lead to God, God leads one to obedience" (Crossan, p. 80). The Two Standards! Ignatius focuses the retreatant's attention upon the activity of the poor and humble Christ, and so the prayerful consideration of the action parables may be somewhat less necessary than those of advent and reversal. The action parables, though, do portray cru-cial or critical situations that demand prompt and energetic deci-sion, firm and resolute action, that are very much in line with retreat purposes. They summon us to commit ourselves in response to the advent of the kingdom regardless of the reversal they demand, and so they, can prove helpful in the later days of the Second Week. They reflect the situation of the retreatant as she moves towards free self-disposition in response to her experience of the advent of the kingdom. Parables of action portray three different responses to the urgency of action (Crossan, pp. 84-85). As examples of one response (see the parable of the friend at mid-night [Lk 11:58] or the unjust judge [Lk 18:2-5]), we meet persons who accept the inevitability of what must be done and take action. In other parables (for example, the rich fool in Lk 13:16-20), the person fails to recognize the urgency of the situation and so fails to act. A third set of action parables (for example, the bridesmaids, Mt 25:1-13) describes those who respond adequately and those who do not. These parables of Jesus can effectively move the retreatant to overcome her natural hesitancy to choose what is beyond the strength of her own resources: to choose, with faith in the advent of the kingdom within her, what "would be more for his praise and glory" (§180). The explanation of the relationship between the parables of Jesus and the Ignatian Exercises has been long. A director may well question the advisability of proposing such an explanation when Ignatius expects the director to "adhere to the points, and add only.a short or summary explanation., for it is not much knowledge that fills and satisfies the soul, but the intimate under-standing and relish of the truth" (§2). Despite the length of this article's explanation, experience has shown that it is possible to l~eview for Religio~a give retreatants a "summary explanation." Retreatants easily grasp the primary idea of the different parables, are comfortable with the understanding proposed, and experience an unexpected delight in praying the parables of Jesus. A Selection of Parables Advent parables: The leaven, Mt 13:20-21; the sower, Mk 4:3- 8; the mustard seed, Mt 4:30-32; the lost sheep, Mt 18:12-13; the lost coin, Lk 15:8-9. Reversal parables: The Good Samaritan, Lk 10:30-37; The Prodigal Son, Lk 15:11-32; the rich man and Lazarus, Lk 16:19- 31; the Pharisee and the tax collector, Lk 18:9-14; the wedding guest, Lk 14:1-24; the great supper, Mt 22:1-14; the sheep and the goats, Mt 25:31-46. Action parables: the wicked husbandmen, Mk 12:1-,12); the doorkeeper, Mk 13:33-37; the talents, Mt 25:14-3 O; the unmerciful servant, Mt 18:23-38; the unjust steward, Lk 16:1-7; the workers in the vineyard, Mt 20:1-16. Bibliography Boucher, Madeleine I. The Parables. Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1981. Brown, Raymond E. An Introduction to the New Testament. New York: Doubleday, 1997. Crossan, John Dominic. In Parables. New York: Harper and Row, 1970. Donahue, John R. The Gospel in Parable. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988. Fleming, David L. The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading. St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978. Henog, William R. Parables as Subversive Speech. Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1994. Jeremias, Joachim. Rediscovering the Parables. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1989. Puhl, Louis J. (trans.). The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1951. Senior, Donald. Jesus: A Gospel Portrait, 2nd ed. Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1991. September-October 1998 ANITA J. BALY St. Ignatius and My Piano One of the best things I got out of making the thirty-day Spiritual Exercises was learning I could play the piano. That is not all that I experienced in the long retreat, by any means. And Idid not know I was taking away that particular fruit when the retreat ended. At a distance of two years, however, I sense that that.gift of musical empowerment is closely linked with my spiritual journey. What would St. Ignatius think of my response to his Exercises? Would palm slap forehead in pained frustration at my lack of com-prehension? Would he laugh--or cry? Would he sharply insist that I had trivialized the meaning of his work--and knew it? Would he smile ever so slightly and nod approval? I would not presume to read back into the saint's mind. I am even clueless as to how oth-ers who have completed the Exercises would react. In the silent and solitary conduct of the Exercises, it is impos-sible to know for sure what other retreatants derive. One can make some guesses based on body language and apparent changes, but there is no way to check out assumptions orhlly. At the con-clusion of my retreat, half a dozen of us retreatants sat and tried to share with one another what had occurred for us. What impressed me that evening was how different the perceived fruits seemed to be for each participant! It was also pleasing to see how diverse outcomes seemed to comport with the Exercises. Anita J. Baly JD, MDiv, PhD, is interim pastor of the Lutheran Church of Our Saviour and an adjunct faculty member in theology at Union Theological Seminary in Virginia and the Presbyterian School of Christian Education. Her address is 3001 Libby Terrace; Richmond, Virginia 23223. Review for Religious The Spiritual Exercises are not a map that points in only one direction via a single route. The end desired is surely the same for all Christians: that we grow continually in faithfulness to the Lord's person and work, approaching more and more the fullness of the fruits of the Spirit; that we grow in the capacity to attain, relish, and express the love of God. Or, as St. Paul says so suc-cinctly: the end (telos) the Christian seeks is "eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rm 6:22-23).~ The means to achieving that end, however, clearly differ according to God-given differences in per-sonalities, capacities, and experiences. No means are excluded automatically since "all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" (Rm 8:28). The Exercises affirm, support, and foster individual wrestling with God's individual graces, to attain the end that is at once universal and also particular. The Exercises, that is, attune to the fact that the Spirit blows how, as, and where it wills. Each exercitant's task is to meet that universal Spirit in the exact par-ticularity of who he or she really is. Were this not to occur, the positive effects of the Exercises in fostering "the salvation of souls and their spiritual profit" would likely be severely limited.2 Theologically this makes sense: incarnation is God's presence and manifestation only in what is really there. God does not meet us inthe past, in the future, or in the way we wish things were. Incarnation means that God meets us precisely here, immediately now. It is, I believe, out of respect for God's ways of working dif-ferendy with different individuals that St. Ignatius urges the direc-tor to be brief in explaining the meditations and contemplations (§2). The saint seems to find it acceptable that exercitants work out much of the matter of the Exercises alone, with God's help. In this way, inevitably, exercitants will surely miss some details and fine points. Ignatius's sense of the compensation for this loss is clear. He says: "It is not in knowing much, but realizing and rel-ishing things interiorly, that contents and satisfies the soul" (§2). My own journey with the Exercises involved the discovery that I could play the piano. As I see it, that was not just a nice My own journey with the Exercises involved the discovery that I could play the piano. September- October 1998 Baly ¯ St. Ignatius and My Piano thing--though it is wonderful! Studying piano has actually become a major support of my continuing spiritual journey. It was a dis-covery I in no way sought, envisioned, or wanted. It came about in response to the circumstances of my long retreat. I made the Exercises at one of the large houses that groups retreatants together with multiple outside directors for one or a few events each year) Our group of retreatants and directors numbered close to seventy people, with an overall director who is a musician. He wanted music provided for the daily liturgies and asked for vol-unteer music leaders. Although there were one or two profes-sional- quality musicians among the group, they, understandably, wanted to retreat from musical production. That left canvassing the rest of us for volunteers, and five or six of us agreed to "do something" according to our capacities. In my case that was to mean simply leading hymns and responses and functioning as a cantor. I could sing and read music, but I played no instruments. As the retreat went on, the strain of producing coordinated music in an atmosphere of total silence showed on some of the original musical volunteers, who quit. That left fewer of us respon-sible for more liturgies. So I was providing music leadership to liturgies every few days with nothing but voice--and boring myself. Besides that, the various celebrants wanted different set-tihgs of liturgical responses. In order to be able to lead those, I had to try to hear them. In the silence, no one could sing them to me beforehand. There was, however, a brief daily period when all retreatants had access to the lone piano. I managed to find the notes to plunk out the melody lines of responses. I knew where the notes were on the keyboard from years of finding singing melodies with a one-finger, hunt-and-peck .method. It was, however, a sort of desperation for variety and for beauty that prompted me to take the next step. I finally made a few attempts to play a melody line under a hymn or two and once even attempted to play something as postcommunion meditation music. Those attempts resulted in poor music that did not enhance the services, in my opinion, and embarrassed me. I suppose I would have quit trying and that would have been the end of it, were it not for the movements of a few people there. One of the directors saw my embarrassment at the poverty of my tries at accompaniment. He managed to honor that pain by helping me try again in a safer way. And, when the retreat ended and we could speak, I learned that a few of the retreatants actually assumed I was Review for Religious a professional music minister! I suppose it was that small amount of affirmation and the serendipitous discovery of pleasure in a new "skill" that prompted me to continue. Once home, I had access to a piano--through the grace of two other friends. For a year I tinkered with that piano on my own, trying to teach myself, sensing in some vague way that for me the piano was a way of continuing to connect with the graces of the retreat. A year after the retreat, I began taking formal lessons. Those have now con-tinued for over a year. The piano is one among those created things that Ignatius would urge using or discarding according to its effect--for the individual pianist--in fostering or detracting from the praise, rev-erence, and service of God (§23). Music can be perverted in var-ious ways. Of itself, though, it does seem to enjoy divine approbation. The Bible in many places, especially in the Psalms, enjoins us to sing to the Lord, to make a joyful noise, to praise our God with timbrel and trumpet, voice, dance--and strings.4 Why would music be so privileged? Maybe God just likes music. That is, the use of music for religious expressions may be linked to something in God's being. Maybe music is special because it is always a common expression, a community endeavor. Even solitary composers or musicians do not invent their instru-ments. Neither do they create the musical notes and their fun-damental relationships--though composers group in "new" ways and patterns the notes and chords they have .been given. The musical givens are built right into~the world. One who discovers them is in dialogue with God the Creator. Because I only play the piano, and do not compose music for it, I dialogue with the Creator about music at one remove. My communion with the composer provides a way for me to make my musical connection with the Directing Source. When I attend faithfully to playing that music as it is written down, I know something too of God's conducting. That faithful attempt to connect with the composer's aural "vision" helps me understand and even "hear" that my studying and playing piano is connected also with my spiritual journey. For me, both praying and piano playing seem more satisfying and closer to hitting the mark when I approach them with a certain kind of discipline. Ignatius illuminates the fact that successful meditation involves the integration of memory, reason, will, and feelings (§50). And the good progress of the Exercises seems to verify that pro- September-October 1998 Baly ¯ St. Ignatius and My Piano found insight. To me, it proves the saint was truly a spiritual genius, As one who .once scored a hundred percent on the feeling compo-nent of the Myers-Briggs Preference Test, my psyche is perpetually on the edge of drowning in emotion. Besides that, my imagination is so strong that I could almost live in it. Now, imagination and feeling are essential for getting through the Exercises. It is difficult to see how an Application of the Senses meditation, for example, could progress without them (§123). The same is true for music. Without feeling, it is lifeless and powerless. Imaginative hearing certainly helps in the process of learning music. Feeling and imagination are good things in moderation. As an extreme "feeler" and "imaginer," however, I cleave to the Ignatian system because of the constant pressure it exerts on me to think and to perceive what is actually there in the world. Overly enthu-siastic thinkers and sensers probably value the Ignatian system for the opposite reason: the pressure it exerts on them to feel and to imagine. One of the supreme marvels of Ignatius's method is the way it teaches, inculcates, presumes, and honors balance. Such balance and integration are often difficult, to keep up in daily life. They are particularly hard to sustain at times of stress when the temptation is to fall back into the ways of reacting that are most automatic and comfortable for us. Our customary responses may be too lopsided to be effective--or holy. It is aware-ness followed by practice, building habits of mind and heart, that can help us to redirect our responses away from the habitual and into more prudent directions. The practice of Ignatian prayer helps with this. In a very similar way, the study of piano also teaches me to strive for balanced, integrated responses. Playing piano, like praying in the lgnatian.mode, requires using memory to aid the intellect, engaging the will in the endeavor, and aligning feelings with the will. My teacher, thus, emphasizes for me the importance of learning chord relationships and learning and remembering proper fingering. In this way my memory assists my reasoning about how to play a new piece of music. And only when my will controls my~ feelings can I keep my enthusiasm from ruining the dynamics and phrasing of com-positions. For me it is truly useful discipline to have to count continuously, thereby exercising a form of reason. My teacher also patiently reminds me that I must play the piece as it is writ-ten-- not as I may prefer or wish it to be, nor as I would find it easier to play. Those reminders are echoes of incarnation! When Review for Religious I lose the balance and proper relationship of memory, reason, will, and feelings, the pieces do not sound right. They cease to please the ear. In a profound sense they are no longer "good." In turn, that reminds me that, when I lose the balance in my spiri-tual life, it too is swerving from the best direction. One particular place where Ignatius urges balance and indif-ference is in making an election (§179). The single criterion of election is that a given alternative seems to lead more to the glory and praise of God and to the salvation of one's soul. The ideal choice, thus, is very pure and very disciplined. In a similar way, the best choice in playing music will be to put aside any personal inclinations or biases or even technical insufficiencies. The goal is to play the piece as near as possible to the composer's intention. The search for that intention can be like discerning the will of God. Sometimes neither the one nor the other is apparent on the surface. It is in both cases openness, dialogue, respect, fidelity, and persistence that create the atmosphere in which disclosure becomes more likely. Within all the balance and indifference in prayerful elections, however, it does seem that reason takes primacy (§ 182). Ignatius seems almost to anticipate the Kantian ethical principle about acting in ways that would please you if they became universal law. The saint counsels us to imagine advising an unknown person whose sanctification we desire, within the context of our own sense of what best conduces to God's glory. Having determined that advice, we are ourselves to follow it (§185). So too in music, where it is hard to imagine advising anyone to play a work other than as it is written. Once reason has helped us to know the goal for living well or for playing music well, the honorable course is to set about engaging the other parts of the personality to col-laborate in moving to this end, and in practicing and honing needed skills for doing so. Relaxation and trust enhance both instrumental playing and prayer. At a recent lesson, my piano teacher watched and heard me struggle through a work white-knuckled, tight-shouldered, gri-macing, and gritting my teeth. She then inquired, sweedy, whether I found it easier to play tense or relaxed. That reminded me of the priest at my last directed retreat who kept urging me to pray in Imaginative hearing certainly helps in the process of learning music. Septentber-October 1998 Baly ¯ St. Ignatius and My Piano peace and serenity--until I finally did. Tension and trying to retain control do not facilitate progress in either prayer or piano. Humility certainly helps in both spheres. Ignatius specifically counsels cultivating the attitude of humility at those times we contemplate our sins. He says that we are then to "lessen" our-selves via various imaginative comparisons (§58). The whole envi-ronment of the Exercises, moreover, induces humility. Much in the system cooperates to encourage the exercitant to esteem God's control and another's direction over what comes from the self alone. For me the Exercises went best at those times when I was most teachable and directable. The same is true of piano study: I play better by attuning to what is there musically and to the teacher. Playing the piano and praying are complementary processes that call on remarkably similar skills. As I hone technique in one area, I also seem to position myself for advancement in the other activity. A kind of cross-leavening seems to occur. As I attend con-sciously to what happens, it seems as though piano learnings tend to foster px:ayer learnings, not vice versa. I think that is because progress in piano happens in an external realm where any who wish may hear, measure, compare, iudge, criticize, and so forth. The no-less-real results of prayer exist in' an internal sphere fully accessible neither to others nor even to myself. Whatever helps someone to understand more of what occurs in personal prayer and to be able to communicate that has to be a boon to progress in prayer. Piano does those things for me. Piano also intimates to me and gives me the hope that King Hezekiah expressed: "The Lord will save me, and we will sing to my stringed instruments all the days of our lives, at the house of the Lord" (Is 38:20). Notes 1 Scriptural citations are from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible. 2 The quoted words are from the Papal Approbation of St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises in 1548, as given in David L. Fleming SJ, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978), p. xxiii. Other citations (§) are standard paragraph numberings used in this and other modern trans-lations of the Exercises. 3 Jesuit Retreat House, Los Altos, California. 4 Psalms 33, 68, 81, 92,144, 149, and 150 all direct the use of musi-cal instruments in praising God. Review for Religious JOSEPH A. TETLOW The Experience of God in Consecrated Life during the 20th Century In this article I try to describe the experience of God, not to prescribe for it. I begin, first, with the meanings of the terms spirituality and religion and the content of the term experi-ence. Second, I characterize modern times just before Vatican Council II under three headings: aggressive realism, methodi-cal universalism, and rugged individualism. I do this because modernity has marked consecrated life deeply and in some mea-sure still marks it, and because, when conservatives talk about the past, this is the past they mean. Third, about the council, I note only that the reform of church structures and the renewal of consecrated life brought out deep problems with authority and with our concept of the self. Finally, coming to today, I urge that we can appreciate consecrated life well in terms of the postmodern understanding of experience as constructed, derivative, intentional, and dialogic. I hope these somewhat scattered theoretical points will deepen our reflection on what the experience of God has been in consecrated life during the cen-tury that is now ending. Spirituality. For us spirituality means the experience of God in Christ. For others it means other things. The Communist government of China, for instance, has begun Joseph A. Tetlow SJ makes available here a talk that he pre-sented in Rome at a workshop attended by members of the union of major superiors of men religious; it retains something of that provenance. No newcomer to these pages, he is director of the Secretariat for Ignatian Spirituality; C.P. 6139; 00195 Roma Prati; Italy. consecrated life September-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience o[ God in Consecrated Life promoting what it calls a "spiritual civilization." Alcoholics Anonymous acknowledges only a "Higher Power" but has a spir-ituality. So has the New Age pseudo-philosophy. In this article the word spirituality is used in none of those vague senses. Here it means the experience of God in Christ, always incarnated in a tradition of prayer and interior discipline.~ A spiritual life, consequently,is the ongoing, cherished, fos-tered experience of God in Christ in one of the great consecrated-life traditions.2 Shifting "from the former stress on the rational to the experiential," serious theologians now recount "the in-break-ing God of personal experience.''3 Karl Rahner, certainly a spec-ulative theologian, was deeply stirred by Ignatius's conviction "that he had in fact experienced God directly and that others may do so as well.''4 Rahner wrote many prayers like this one.- "Thanks to your mercy, O infinite God, I know somethingabout you not only through concepts and words, but through experience . Yes, really you yourself, not just a concept of you, not just the name which we ourselves have given you.''5 John of the Cross experienced God, not an idea or a poem, and so did Don Bosco, St. Benedict, the author of the Cloud. Each experienced God in the specific way God chose~ All those who follow each of them adopt the perspectives, perceptions, and values of their masters, desiring and determined to know God as their tradition knows God. This is what we mean by spirituality. It differs from religion. Religion. Religion is the experience of creed, code, cultus, and culture and, in and through these creatures, the experience of God. Hinduism; Buddhism, Islam, even animism yield the expe-rience of God in the experience of creed, code, cultus, and cul-ture. 6 Islam, for instance, holds faith in Allah and in the prophet Mohammed, follows a moralistic code, practices cultus six times a day and a month each year, and has spread into a vast poly-morphous culture. Each Muslim experiences these creatures directly and, in them, God. The "ordinary Christian" who spent three hours worshiping in St. Peter's Square on Palm Sunday felt the presence of God in the liturgy. True, many ordinary Christians may have momentary "mystical experiences"; Andrew Greeley reported in one survey that perhaps eight in ten American Catholics have had such experiences, and we have no reason to think Americans more mystical than any other people. But those "mystical experiences" come as a surprise, for religious people Review for Religious experience God indirectly, through the created creed, code, cul-tus, and culture in their everyday lives. Religious leaders need to note two points connected with this: first, about the apostolate. The people we serve, the "millions in the middle," in Cardinal Joseph Bernardin's phrase, experience God in and through their religion. When the powerful or the super-spiritual despise these people's religion, the people suffer; for their special experience of God seems despised and degraded. Perhaps the church harmed them inadver-tently when it swiftly and almost wordlessly dismantled the liturgi-cal use of Latin and quotidian laws about fasting and communion on the tongue, Yet for centuries the church had called the full, whole-hearted living of religion, just reli-gion, "spirituality." Only a few centuries ago did theologians begin using the word spirituality for the life lived by an active, dedicated, religious elite, and only in the last two centuries did theologians begin separating the experience we call spirituality from the experience we call religion. We who find ourselves in this "elite" run the risk of so raising up spirituality as to depreciate religion. This is wrongheaded. The second thing superiors might note here concerns our own congregational lives. Are there not men in every congrega-tion who live the charism in wholehearted ways and yet cannot say they know God? We all know men who have pictures of the Holy Father, of saints and holy places, all over their rooms and offices. Perhaps they are living religion--creed, code, cultus, and cul-ture- as religion is embodied in a congregation's way of life, with all its pious practices. (Somebne told about a man who was watch-ing television and reading his breviary during the commercial breaks. He explained that Jesus had instructed us to "watch and pray.") Above all, perhaps we should consider whether the strongly conservative among us may live their interior lives in this way of religion. How do they experience God? Experience. Our topic is experience. As everyone does today, I have been talking about experience as though we all mean the same thing. But we do not. Some say experience includes just what Only in the last two centuries did theologians begin separating the experience we call spirituality from the experience we call religion. September-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience of God in Consecrated Life happens; some, that experience includes only what I am conscious of happening; some tinsist that human experience always includes language. Every one of. us, also, varies what he includes in the term. What does our topic mean, "The experience of God in con-secrated life"? Obviously, we cannot work out a perfect descrip-tion of experience here and now. Also obviously, we are probably not going to talk about it the way "scientific" philosophers talk about it. We are going to talk about experience, most likely, as Vita consecrata does.7 Perhaps, though, we need to notice, on a slightly theoretica,1 plane, that today people regularly talk about experience by using seven categories. A sort of common philosophy holds that each and every experience unfolds in seven dialogically inter-related elements: context, perspective, perception, value, desire, decision, and habit. We tend to think that any and every experi-ence is adequately described when each of these elements is accounted fo~, both in itself and in its relationship with each of the other elements. So, biographers get the concrete details of their subjects' time and place and recount how their context shaped their perspectives, how their values shaped their perceptions, and so on. Scripture scholars try to recapture the context of Jesus' life and the perspectives, perceptions, and values with which his context would have imbued him. When we look at a man's expe-rience to see whether he has the capacity to govern, we weigh his decisions and hal6its, how he perceives, what he values. Things like these constitute our view of his experience. So, at least for now, let that stand for what experience is. The description is hardly .satisfactory, so why did I raise the question? For two reasons. Fil:st, we whose main task is listening to .others must keep in mind that there is no such thing as a naive appeal to experience. The man who says, "Well, my experience tells me such-and-such" has not ended discussion, but just begun it. As philosophical theologiaJ~ John Smith argues, every appeal "carries with it a theory of experience, some principle indicating what expe-rience is and how much it is supposed to contain.''8 Conflicts between superiors and consecrated men, between individuals and their communities, commonly grow from different appreciations of experience. The second reason we need to be aware of the con-tent of experience is that the teaching church is changing its approach to experience, but is no more consistent than any of us in what content it puts into the word. Review for Religious Now let me turn to the three topics I mean to open: the pre-conciliar and modern, the council, and the postconciliar or post-modern. Preconciliar and Modern Times I begin with a story. In 1947 a young man of sixteen boarded a train on his way to a novitiate. Answering the questions of the novice-master, his back straight and shoulders squared, he explained his call. He felt drawn to a military life (his father had sent him to a military school). But he thumped the oak arm of his chair--absolutely, God wanted him to be a religious and a priest. Fifty years later, he remains both. The year 1947 came in the evening of modern times. What is modernity? How had it affected our experience of God in Christ? Intellectual historians generally concur on certain qualifies. Albert Borgmann, for instance, identifies as marks of modernity an aggressive realism (we experiment to know and we intend to con-trol life and nature with our knowledge); methodical universalism (any empirically established truth is true in every realm and in any culture); and rugged individualism (the person comes to be over against the community). Aggressive Realism. In the 1950s we perceived the modern uni-verse, unlike the medieval Christian cosmos, as impersonal and governed by regular laws that had to be understood mathemati-cally. We felt free to tear out forests, dig up mountains, and blow a hole in the earth's atmosphere. As we grew absorbed in this aggressive realism, in Richard Tarnas's words, "God was now dis-tantly removed from the physical universe, as creator and archi-tect, and was now less a God of love, miracle, redemption, or historical intervention than a supreme intelligence and first cause.''9 1 have the clearest recollection from the early 1950s of being instructed by a spiritual book written by a Frenchman and translated by a North American to turn at the end of a period of prayer and with whole heart and great fervor pray to "my First Cause." 10 This kind of realism seriously trammeled our experience of God, in part because that realism was magnified by a centuries-long failure in the church to develop anything like an adequate theology of creation,~ as John Courtney Murray argued in his book, The Problem of God. In modern times we spoke about God's Septonber-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience of God in Consecrated Life providence or God's will, both exercised, in some measure, in dis-tans. But we had lost the strong sense of God continually, con-stantly creating us and personally calling us.~2 Most religious are still surprised and delighted to hear that we are in an intimate relationship with God the ongoing Creator. In truth, our God had some of the aspects of the rationalists' Great Watchmaker who created the earth and spun it off to do its own work. Notice that the experience of God in consecrated life in the West has been countercultural and is an important gift to the Western church, as Vita consecrata points OUt.13 It also has to be the source of a renewed theology of creation for the church (one thinks of Teilhard de Chardin). Rugged Individualism. Just a century ago the West gave scien-tific sanction to individualism in social Darwinism's "survival of the fittest." So the powerful grabbed oil, railroad lands, monopolies in finance, and so on; the less than powerful were taught to blame themselves. Between Vatican Councils I and II, between the first automobile and the first manned space vehicle, the socioeconomic program of the West, in Roberto Mangabeira Unger's words, was "to turn all society into a world of patrons and clients.''~4 Furthermore, this was certainly the methodical program of the Communist elites (only six percent of China's population) and arguably the established program of the rest of the world. Princes and rich landowners lavished patronage; their clients begged help. Colonial powers favored a native elite (that now rules seventy-five new nations); the natives depended on them. Bosses ruled "their" workers; bishops had "their" priests; religious superiors had "their" subjects. All these were "clients," including the reli-gious, who leaned on (the Indo-European root of "client" is klei, to incline to or lean on). their superiors. This patron/client relationship flourished in the church, which Catholics were taught to conceive of as a "perfect" society, that.is, a visible society fully equipped for its purposes with autonomous rights and resources, with powers of jurisdiction, legislation, and administration, and, in words of Pius XlI in Mystici Corporis, a society lifted "above the whole natural order [by] the Spirit of the Redeemer, who., penetrates every part of the church's being and is active within it.''~s We religious exhorted one another to dependence on our superiors. I do not speak critically here. We must empathize with this earlier perspective on authority. Authority was felt to be, in itself, profoundly benevolent to the Review for Religious subject, creative, and ultimately successful in making people what God wished them to be, Modern people simply did what they were told by superiors, and if some of them acted immorally-- remember Eichmann--many others flourished under good lead-ership. And tens of thousands of consecrated men lived holy and productive lives by doing what they were told. It was in this con-text that a young man (just like the one who took that train in 1947), when told .by his master of novices to tie his hands to his bedstead to avoid nocturnal pollution, at first obeyed confidently. I say "at first," for there was a shadow side to this embrace of authority. As Donald Gelpi has written, "submission of one's own will to a superior [was] subtly trans-formed from a means into an end in itself." 16 The religious subjects had an. easy way to personal holiness, and, superiors could ask them to be instruments of our congregations, instruments, we confidently believed, in God's hands. Very commonly it is this instrumentalism that conservatives yearn to recapture. One man said as much to me as he was planning a par-ticularly egregious action against some liberal Christians: "I just want to be a hammer in God's hands." What did he think he is? Who had responsibility for his harmful activities? Authority, and its instruments, were experienced as univer-sally valid until the very late stages of modernism. This century's experiences--the Holocaust, the Soviet Union's Gulag, Idi Amin, My Lai, terrorism, governmental lying, the totalitarian habit of "disappearing" people---have changed our appreciation of author-ity. In earlier modernity it was perceived as benevolent; at moder-nity's end, it has come to be perceived as malevolent or at best deeply ambiguous. Even consecrated men may nowadays won-der, at a letter from superiors, What do they want now? At the end of modernity, as Hannah Arendt argued, we have to study what authority once was to come to any realistic appreciation of it. This situation is, in part, the fruit of rugged individualism. Methodical Universalism. If the secular world gladly embraced empiricism as a universal method, the church embraced scholas- We had lost the strong sense of God continually, constantly creating us and persona, lly calling us. Septentber-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience of God in Consecrated Life ticism as gladly. Before Vatican II, the teaching church was insist-ing on a unique philosopbia perennis, a single intellectual approach to meaning in human life. This insistence expressed a methodical universalism; it belonged more to modernity than to revelation. Scientists rigidly adhered to what they considered induction; Catholics rigidly adhered to deduction. One reviewer in 1949 called a masterwork by Garrigou-Lagrange "an outstanding exam-ple of the ability of a master scientist to draw a whole system of practical conclusions from a single principle.''17 The book was The Three Ages of the Interior Life, and the reviewer resonated with the book's methodical universalism.18 Integral to that methodical universalism was the firm con-viction that nature had an intrinsic order, put there by God and functioning flawlessly. Unaided reason could perceive this order with certitude (one of my philosophy professors liked to cite the Letter to the Romans). This modern trust in reason unrelated to God'.s "ongoing revelation transmuted the church's philosophical commitment to a "natural law." The trust in reason and law affected consecrated life, too: "Keep the rule, and the rule will keep you." As the 20th century progressed, we learned that nature ordered itself by evolution--having been so created by God at the time of the Big Bang. Catholics were quicker than most to accept that scientific theory as fact. Then we learned also that each person evolves, comes to be, grows, from some interior prin-ciple. The combination, grew to an insistence on "authenticity." Hence, as one author summarized the development, "in contrast with the medieval Christian worldview, modern man's indepen-dence- intellectual, psychological, spiritual--was radically affirmed, with increasing depreciation of any religious belief or institutional structure that would inhibit man's natural right and potential for existential autonomy and individual self-expres-sion." 19 He has caught most of the shibboleths of the 1960s, the pseudo-ideas, the decaying core convictions of modernity: inde-pendence, radical, institutional, structures, natural right, auton-omy, self-expression. These are the "plastic words" that many of us used when pushing far in the conciliar reforms.2° Vatican II and the Return to Roots Here is another story. Around 1967 a man from a religious com-munity made a workshop-retreat. He had been busy running a college Review for Religious and raising funds; he had never made a directed retreat or listened to one of the well'known spiritual gums. About a month a#er his expe-rience, he told another man in his community that the retreat had been powerful. He had never known, really known, that God accepts him, that God loves him as he is. He wept as he recounted the experience. In complex and varying ways, modernity had shaped the con-secrated life before Vatican II. Now we were called by the great decree Petfectae caritatis to return to our roots, to leave nature alone for a w, hile and go back to history. We needed to re-create our communities, an immensely conse-quential effort, which meant recovering ¯ our history. Some of us found that our communities were hardly living our full histories. I was astonished, for instance, to find out that St. Ignatius Loyola did not found the Society of Jesus all alone, but led a committee of friends in the Lord. to found the Company. (I have never been sure what that committee tells us about Jesuits.) One of the great consequences was a deep shift in leadership style from hierar-chical power to discerning authority, a genuinely splendid achieve-ment. Superiors decided that they were called, in Ann Ida Gannon's bold phrase, "for the service of [their] fellow religious.''~ They learned to be servant-leaders, adopting a leadership style that rejects power and governs by authority. So we began to reha-bilitate authority, and to reconnect the modern individualist to the community. Authority, which humankind always needs, is the ability so to arrange a lifeworld that those served by authority desire in great freedom to follow its decisions. Fully exercised, leadership by authority elicits and empowers the authority of every individual. For in its roots--note the Latin nounauct0r (originator, doer, author) and verb augere (increase)~authority names a human per-son's self-actualization and growth, which cannot happen to a person except in connection with a community. We need to pur-sue a difficult notion here: the concept of the self. Under the weight of modern individualism, we came to think of the self as isolated, estranged--all those anguishes of existentialism. We came to appreciate the self as having no extension, independent Fully exercised, leadership by authority elicits and empowers the authority of every individual. Septentber-October 1998 Tetlow ¯ The Experience of God in Consecrated Life not only of our bodies but even of our experiences. We have all heard people say that they can "use their experience," as though it were a computer program. We have heard that a woman "has a right over her own body" as though it were something like a suit-case. Charles Taylor summarized all this as "the punctiliar self.''22 The self has become like a little point floating through our life-world, our own life history, our experiences, convictions, body parts. For our topic, the important thing to notice is that, when the conciliar renewal arrived, we were all thinking of the self detached from our own experience and over against the commu-nity. When one of us said "I personally think." he really meant "I individually think"--that is, over against the rest of society. For person had come to mean individual and had been cut off from society. Only during postmodernity, with its search for commu-nity, did we recover the truth that no human person can exist apart from the human community. We are not angels. We might note one final rather abstruse but intensely conse-quential point. The modern concept of self, split off in Catholic life from any adequate theology of ongoing creation, let us conceive of our autonomy as almost divine. That concept entailed both the "denial of death" that philosophers have noted in some cultures and also an attempt at repudiating creaturehood. Thus, many could retract their permanent commitments and their priestly vows: "It was not my true self." At the beginning of this century, theolo-gians wrote of a triad: God, man, and creatures. Listen to the incompleteness of the modernist expression in Canon Four of the Roman Missal: "You have created man and set him over all crea-tures." Not "over all other creatures"; just "over all creatures." After the council we in consecrated life once again began to hear all other creatures "speak to us in 'their own right," and it is not an accident that consecrated men and women have been leading the so-called "ecological spirituality" movement.23 Postmodernism and Expe~ience A thirdstory. In 1987 more thanfifty men from oneprovince made a retreat together. They listened to briefpresentations during the day and prayed in silence. In the evenings they sat around and talked about themselves: How did I get my vocation, what was the hardest obedience I ever faced, where has the cross been in my life? Each said what he wished to say, the young and the 6ld; no one answered another; no one Review for Religious was forced to speak. Ten years later the men still remember that expe-rience. It drew them into communion. They even found out that they liked one another. Describing postmodernity is like describing where you are in a vast desert. There are markers, of course; but they are very hard to discern. I particularly like a triad developed by philosopher Albert Borgmann, whom I have already cited: "For each of the modern principles a counter possibility is emerging: information processing in place of aggressive realism, flexible specialization instead of methodical universalism, and informed cooperation rather than rugged individualism.''24 This is a description of global culture, but perhaps you recognize these emerging experiences: Information processing: Once we worked by the rule; now we read the signs of the times and discern. Flexible specialization: Once we legislated apostolic work; now we inculturate, make the option for the poor, and try to keep faithful to our charism. Informed cooperation: Once our ideal of obedience was the blind man being led; now we dialogue, discern, and even as we are given a mandate we remember that we are, each of us, free men. This is conse-crated life in a postmodern world. We are not likely to comprehend the experience in any seri-ous way unless we accept that postmodernity sees experience as a construct of many elements. This construct is intentional (of and by and for and with other persons and things); derivative (from other experiences and other things); and dialogic (moving in and out, back and forth, between old self and new self). Let me take each of these marks of experience and suggest a thought or two about consecrated life. Constructed. Experience is constructed. It incorporates a past and moves into a future; it combines social, cultural, intellectual, emotive, aesthetic; it entails sensations, memories, desires, and perceptions. Thus, even Descartes's insight Cogito ergo sum--one of the deepest roots of modern individualism--was in a language (Latin) that many past and present spoke. He had the insight with a brain incorporating DNA from two other persons. He felt emo-tions and conviction. Every experience is thus constructed, so that George Schner can correctly claim, "There is a sense in which no experience is strictly 'mine.'''25 The experience of living a consecrated life is also, quite obvi-ously, a construct. Each of us had a unique experience when tak-ing vows, yet we used a formul~ used by thousands before us. And September-October 1998 Tetlow * The Experience of God in Consecrated Life we promised to live these vows accordi

Issue 53.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1994. ; Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JANUARY-FEBRUaRY 199Zl. - V6LUME ~; ¯ NUMBER 1~o Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis Universi~ by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048 ¯ Fax: 314-535~0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ¯ Washington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1994 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library, clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. review for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Sefin Sammon FMS Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JANUARY-FEBRUARYI994 ¯ VOLUME53 '* NUMBER I contents feature Between the Times: Religious Life and the Postmodern Experience of God Elizabeth A. Johnson CSJ relates the stress within religious life to the loss of traditional God images and the search now for the hidden face of the living God. 29 43 58 toward the synod The Consecrated Life in Church and World Bishop Jan P. Schotte CICM explains the synod of bishops, with brief descriptions of previous ones and the 1994 synodal process. Charism, Charisms, and Faddism A. Paul Dominic SJ brings clarity to the Lineamenta treatment of the charism of religious life and the charisms of its many con-crete forms in various congregations. Hopes for the Synod and Beyond Joel Giallanza CSC focuses his attention on the identity and mis-sion of apostolic religious congregations and their relationship to the hierarchy. 64 73 82 mission and ministry Images of Hope in an Inner-City Parish George M. Anderson SJ shows God working in unlikely places, making use of humble and broken people to advance the values for which Jesus died and rose. A Bracelet of Elephant'sHair Jo O'Donovan RSM shares her sabbatical experience of an "outer" and "inner" Africa. The Modern Development of Messianic Prophecy Allen S. Maller presents for our ecumenical consideration a deeply felt Jewish view of Messianic meaning and fulfillment. 2 Review for Religious experiencing the spirit 89 Living in the Womb of God Marion Zeltmann PCPA reflects upon her experience of enclosure and prayer as a Poor Clare. 95 Do I Really Believe that Death Leads to Life? Francis Blouin FIC suggests some practical ways of responding to the current dyings manifest in religious life. 102 A Rite for Those Departing Religious Formation Peter A. Lyons suggests positive and wholesome ways in which individuals departing from religious life and ~he community mem-bers who remain might deal ritually with this reality. 107 120 130 religious life issues Integrating Human Needs in Religious Formation Howard J. Gray SJ suggests ways of viewing human needs as "longings," radical desires to be integrated in the art of religious ministry. Chapters Present and Future Catherine M. Harmer MMS reviews the history of chapters in reli-gious life and raises questions about their future functioning. Religious Life, a Continuum Francis Assisi Kennedy OSF examines, historical beginnings of reli-gious congregations for patterns surprisingly serviceable today. departments 4 Prisms 142 Canonical Counsel: The Conciliar Decree Perfectae Caritatis 149 Book Reviews Jan~mry-February 1994 3 prisms 1994--a year still to be lived, a year yet to pass into history. For most people there is a healthy anticipation of "good things" when new begin-nings are made. Perhaps such "anticipation" should be called, rather, a precious grace which interconnects us with God, the eternal optimist. New evangelization is the most consistently optimistic theme of John Paul II's papacy. While his encyclicals and apostolic exhortations are many and weighty (witness the most recent Splendor of Truth), I suspect that his repeated call to a new evangelization will be the most significant and lasting grace for the church. The call is a beginning similar to the beginning of a year; it is not as if evange-lization is any newer than the parade of days which form any year's calendar. The newness in large part comes from the attitude with which we enter into evangelization, just as it comes from the way we enter into another year. The oft-quoted phrase about this call to evangelization being "new in its vigor, new in its methods, and new in its expression" is grounded in the attitude which we bring to our Christian responsibility as evangelizers. Attitude alone is not enough, but unless the grace of optimism warms our efforts as believers in Good News to share it and explain it and to offer people a challenge, little evange-lization is the result. Do members of religious congregations need to see a more intimate connection between the new evangeliza-tion and their own efforts at renewal? Since all forms of Christian life come from our having the gospels in our blood, it would seem obvious that an evangelization effort promotes effective renewal. The gospels not only have 4 R~,iew for Religio~s inspired the different forms of religious life, but also have helped shape its various expressions and methods. Men and women moved by the Spirit of Christ have gifted the church with at least three prismatic "colors" of Christ-following that look monastic or mendicant or apostolic. The question remains for us today who have been illumined by these various Christ-prisms how our gospel-inspired attitude can reveal the graced mystery of this life-form in terms of new depths of meaning and new ways of expres-sion- in the very heritage we claim. The darkness we feel comes not from Jesus, the light-source whom we follow, but from our own self-chosen, squint-eyed angle of vision having so little to do with grace or gospel. So often our efforts at renewal seem more a vain search for one "tree of life" instead of for the God who gives all created gifts for our creatively discerned use. Optimism marks the effort of anyone who begins something. An evangelical optimism seems almost lacking both in internal reli-gious congregation renewal attempts and in hierarchical control efforts. As we begin this year of the synod on consecrated life, our prayer for ourselves and our church begs again for that grace dear to our God imaged as the prodigal parent who expects the son (and daughter) to be coming up the road--the grace of opti-mism. As we begin this new volume, Review for Religious warmly welcomes Regina Siegfried, a member of the Sister Adorers of the Blood of Christ, Ruma province, as associate editor. She serves currently as assistant professor of historical studies and spiritual-ity at Aquinas Institute in St. Louis. Former editor of Spirituality Today, she is well known for her books Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers, edited with Bishop Robert Morneau, and In the Company of Preachers, edited with Edward Ruane OP. Review for Religious accepts graciously the loss of Michael Harter SJ as associate editor. In his new role assignment as direc-tor of novices for the Jesuit Missouri provirice, he can assure young candidates' solid formation through their familiarity with articles from Review for Religious. So in losing an editor, I am sure that we are gaining a number of new subscribers. Just as he leaves this media field, his prayer book, Hearts on Fire: Praying with Jesuits, has been published by the Institute of Jesuit Sources in St. Louis and is already in its second printing. We wish him well and know that we will miss him. David L. Fleming SJ January-February 1994 5 feature ELIZABETH A. JOHNSON Between the Times: Religious Life and the Postmodern Experience of God As the third millennium of the Western, Christian calen-dar approaches, all manner of assessments are being made about what will fade into history and what will newly flourish in the year 2001 and afterwards. It does not take a new millennium, however, to see that religious life in the United States is passing through an epochal change, the outcome of which in terms of fade or flourish is an open question. The research project "The Future of Religious Orders in the United States," conducted by David Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis under the sponsorship of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops, the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, and the Leadership Council of Women Religious, sets out fully aware of this moment in history2 The original proposal for this study underscores the rad-icality of the journey now underway. Religious orders, it notes, are in the midst of a process of transformation, defined in categories from the social sciences to mean: The operation of changing (as by mapping or through strategies) one configuration or expression into another in accordance with a rule, a purpose or mission. Elizabeth Johnson csJ is associate professor of theology at Fordham University. This article will be part of a companion book to The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Transformation and Commitment, (Praeger Publishers, 1993) by David J. Nygren and Miriam D. Ukeritis. Her address is Department of Theology; Fordham University; Bronx, New York 10458-5165. 6 Review for Religious Such change, furthermore, involves: qualitative, discontinuous shifts in organizational members' shared understandings of the organization, accompanied by changes in the organization's mission, strategy, and formal and informal structures. The most basic questions of group and individual identity, involving who religious are, how they are to live, what they are to do, and why, are all at stake. Religious orders in this country, the proposal continues, are in the midst of a transformative process so profound that it will lead to the demise of some, the revitalizing of others, and the birth of new forms of the evangelical life as yet unimagined. The aim of this research project is to identify factors within religious orders themselves that will contribute to a suc-cessful outcome of this major metamorphosis. Recent historical studies have unveiled a heartening picture of how the evangelical following of Jesus in the church, traditionally called "religious life," has been incarnated in a great diversity of forms. From monastic to mendicant to apostolic communities, to mention but a few of the more widespread models, new forms of this living movement have consistently emerged from the insights of individuals and groups responding to the Spirit in the crucible of cultural change. A compelling interpretation of the present sit-uation holds that in the United States, at least, the present crisis of religious orders signals yet another breakthrough in the many-faceted evolution of forms of the evangelical life. If this be true, this is the first time in the history of the church that members of religious orders in a time of transition have been so self-con-sciously aware of their situation and so equipped with the tools of modern research that they can reflect on and even direct the pro-cess of change. The purpose of this essay is to provide a theological context for the data that follows. It is important to note that this essay was commissioned, designed, and largely written before the research project was completed. Therefore it should not be read as an interpretation of the project's findings. Rather, it is intended as an independently conceived reflective piece on this moment in the history of religious life. To .contextualize the report that follows, this essay first surveys the state of the question in contemporary literature on religious life and then identifies a basic shift occur-ring that affects all the rest and that holds great portent for the future, namely, a change in the experience of God.2 January-February 1994 7 Johnson ¯ Between the Times The living tradition of the change of forms of religious life is still alive; the great cycle of death and rebirth is turning once again. State of the Question Starting in the late 1970s, a number of excellent works have contributed to discussion of the meaning of religious life and have expressed the emerging self-understanding of religious them-selves. Written by or available to members of religious orders in North America, the list includes works on the history, sociology, and theology of the life as lived by both women and men in general,3 as well as works that focus on the experiences of women4 or men5 in particular. The imagery and language of these writings reflect the enormous tension in the state of the question, both as lived and reflected upon. There is a prevalence of "re" words: revitalize, refound, rein-terpret, reimagine, reweave, redefine, rebirth. Metaphors point to new creative acts: pouring new wine into new wine-skins; reweaving the threadbare cloth; standing at the crossroads and discerning the way ahead; planting new seeds; mid-wiring a birth; bringing order out of chaos. The focus is consistently on the future: shaping the coming age, strate-gizing for growth, negotiating the challenge of change, claiming identity, being converted. Individual differences of approach in this literature recede when compared with the convergences that these writings dis-play. Virtually all of the authors are seized by the conviction that in the Western democracies the missionary and apostolic mod-els of religious life, prevalent for the last two hundred years, are dying. Relatively speaking and in some cases literally, "there is no one behind us." But this does not mean that religious life itself is dying, for no one form has ever been definitively lasting as the predominant form for every era. What it may well mean, however, is that the living tradition of the change of forms of religious life is still alive; the great cycle of death and rebirth is turning once again,6 The present malaise and decline, if lived through with discernment, fidelity, and courage, can lead to new, yet-to-be-determined forms commensurate with the cultural realities of the third millennium. 8 Review for Religious This being the case, the literature is replete with enlighten-ing analyses of ecclesial and cultural factors at work in the present changes. It also indicates that a strong consensus is taking shape regarding the way forward. A prophetic stance suffused with con-templation is being glimpsed as the crucial spiritual force that seeks expression in coming forms of religious life. Both the anal-ysis and this key proposal are surveyed here as interesting in their own right and as factors that themselves point further to a foun-dational experience of God. Changes in Church and Society The literature agrees that the most important ecclesial factor underlying the shift in religious life's self-understanding contin-ues to be Vatican II's two-pronged theological articulation of the church's identity and mission. Ad intra (internally) the church is first and foremost the people of God, with every member conse-crated by baptism and empowered to life in Christ. The conse-quent universal call to holiness undercuts the traditional notion that religious life is an elite state of perfection whose members are spiritually set above ordinary lay people. Rather, religious live out their call to holiness as a sacrament or sign to the whole church of its Spirit-filled vocation. Ad extra (externally) the church is to turn pastorally toward the world as God's good creation, marred by sin but redeemed by Christ and worthy of attention. The mission of the church in the world undermines the tradi-tional dualism between the sacred and the secular, along with the concomitant idea that religious should be set apart from the world. Rather, they are to live in relation to the world, not over against but ~vith and for, in criticism and compassion. The conciliar shift from a juridical to a more-biblically-based pastoral identity and mission, still being contested and negotiated in the church at large, undergirds the changes in self-understanding, lifestyle, and ministry that now affect traditional forms of religious life. Since the council, additional ecclesial factors have appeared that continue to impinge upon religious life in the United States. The ongoing efforts by religious orders to reinterpret founding charisms is occurring in the context of postconciliar reinterpre-rations of the Catholic biblical, theological, and liturgical tradi-tions themselves. The infusion of insight from these sources is resulting in new and influential understandings, such as the rad- .January-Febrnary 1994 9 Johnson ¯ Between the Times ¯ ical equality of all in baptismal grace. Furthermore, the postcon-ciliar explosion of lay ministries, both ecclesially sponsored and lay initiated, is multiplying the possibilities open to those who wish to serve in the church beyond the confines of traditional religious life. At the same time it creates a situation of shared, collabora-tive ministry between religious and the laity. In these same years, the original immigrant church in this country has reached mainstream status with the majority of its members moving into the middle class. More options for service and advancement have opened up in the civil sector, lessening the church's attraction as the primary field for a dedicated life. In addition, the economic and educational mores of middle-class life coupled with the availability of birth control has resulted in the reduced size of Catholic families, thus shrinking the pool from which candidates for religious life were traditionally drawn. Meanwhile, a new wave of immigration from Latin America and Asia is presently changing the face of the church; one-third of Catholics in the United States are now Hispanic, half of whom are younger than eighteen years of age. Despite outstanding service on the part of some religious of European descent, however, dif-ferences of culture, race, class, and age, if not overt, prejudice, seem to prev.ent the majority of religious orders from making an effective case for their way of life to members of new immigrant groups. Eras do not repeat themselves. All of these ecclesial factors are playing out in the wider con-text of the church .becoming a world church, less European in character and belonging to all cultures; a church of the diaspora, less supported by a homogeneous culture and more a little flock in a pluralist world; and a church in interreligious dialogue, open to the wisdom of other great religious traditions. Social, economic, and political forces at work in the culture of the United States are also contributing to changes in religious life) These forces are many and complex, but several consistently surface in the literature: democracy, which yields a more partic-ipative rather than authoritative style of governance; global aware-ness, which subverts provincialism; growing consciousness of economic and social injustice at home and abroad, which demands action to relieve poverty and promote justice; pervasive violence, which highlights the need for teaching and modeling peaceful resolution of conflicts; materialism, which calls for a countercul-tural witness to simplicity of life and the value of the human over 10 Review for Religious the product; excessive individualism, which cries out for the anti-dote of a genuine community of free and responsible persons; ethnocentrism, racism, and insensitivity to other cultures, which needs the word of the gospel about the fundamental human dig-nity of every person; and feminism, which advocates the equal inclusion of women in that human dignity. The search in the United States for a new, more humane society among ourselves, between all nations, and between human beings and the natural world of this planet contextualizes and begins to inspire the search for new, vital forms of religious life. In a striking way, ecclesial and cul-tural factors have converged in the rise of Christian feminism and its influ-ence in women's religious orders. It is indisputable that women's insights into how to live the evangelical life have never yet been allowed full scope in the course of church history, even now. Perhaps it was the play of prov-idence that unleashed the conciliar reforms at the very moment that the women's movement was gathering force once again in the United States. It is indisputable that women's insights into how to live the evangelical life have never yet been allowed full scope in the course of church history, even now. In any event, while renewing their lives in the light of the gospel and their founding charisms and while strengthening their witness in the world, especially among those depriv.ed of human dignity, women religious became aware of themselves as women in a patri-archal church and society. They .began to notice the systemic absence and silence of women in church pol!cy-making bodies and ministries, its obvious connection with gender, and the result-ing pressures on the way they lived their lives. Contextualized by the women's movement in church and society, they began to find their own voice and to claim, even for themselves, the respect befitting a human person. Women's experience was affirmed as a legitimate if untapped source of knowledge about religious life and its ministry, prayer, community, and governance, and this found expression in their reflection, dialogue, and new constitu-tions. The result of this awakening was a release of energy that bore and continues to bear promise for the future of religious January-February 1994 11 Johnson ¯ Between the Times life. But it also brings conflict as men church authorities refuse to reverence or dialogue with the insights coming from women's experience, insisting rather on conformity to their own under-standing and law. At this point the alienation of legions of women in the church is a matter of public record. Women religious, too, know this darkness. But among women religious in the United States at the end of the twentieth century, the conviction per-dures that the goals of Christian feminism are fully in accord with the gospel. They continue to grapple with issues of identity and mission with the understanding that through their struggle the Spirit of God is offering a transforming grace to the whole church, although, terrifyingly, grace may always be refused.8 In and through all of this analysis of ecclesial and cultural factors that affect religious life today, authors have been seeking clues as to how this life will be able to flourish in the future. The search appears to be narrowing. Glimpse of a New Form: Prophetic, Contemplative Life In books and essays about religious life and in documents generated by religious orders and the national conferences, a new combination of ancient dements is beginning to define the essen-tial character of religious life. The emerging understanding of this life is primarily that of persons and communities called to prophetic ministry embedded in a contemplative relationship to God. Prophecy and mysticism, prophetic witness and contem-plation, will shape the evangelical life of love of God and neigh-bor in its coming age. The two national conferences of men and of women religious place this insight at the head of the list of ten transformative ele-ments they identify for religious life in the future: 1. Prophetic Witness: Being converted by the example of Jesus and the values of the gospel, religious in the year 2010 will serve a prophetic role in church and society. Living this prophetic wimess will include critiquing social and ecclesial values and structures, calling for systemic change and being converted by the marginalized with whom we serve. 2. Contemplative, Attitude Toward Life: Religious in 2010 will have a contemplative attitude toward all creation and be motivated by the presence of the sacred? 12 Review forReligious In a similar way the visioning groups studied in the Futures Project as well as those identified by the research as outstanding leaders consistently and vigorously endorsed the prophetic/con-templative stance. Far from being an esoteric perspective, this stance brings to light what is most basic in Christian faith and what the church itself needs to emphasize in order to thrive in the future. As Karl Rahner foresaw, the spirituality of the future will arise from rela-tion with the living God at the very heart of the world and con-sequently "will be a spirituality of the Sermon on the Mount and of the evangelical counsels, continually involved in renewing its protest against the idols of wealth, pleasure, and power.''t° This is the calling of the church as a whole, and religious life crystallizes and witnesses to this. The two constituent elements, prophecy and contemplation, can be distinguished mentally and examined separately, but in reality they form one living shape, one wholistic form, one gestalt of life. Asking which comes first is a chicken-and-egg kind of question, with no intelligible answer in sight.1~ Contemplation is a way of seeing that leads to union. It arises from an experience of connection with the sacred at the very core of life. Mediated, as always, by created things such as words, images, and actions, this relationship unfolds as persons and com-munities allow these mediations to lead them into the living pres-ence of the holy. Insofar as the created mediations themselves are transcended in contemplation, this experience counteracts the human effort to control the divine and instead delivers the spirit into the bright darkness of God. From one perspective, the con-nection with the sacred is a result of the inflow of the love of God inflaming and awakening the heart. From another, it entails the discipline of becoming fully conscious, journeying to one's deepest self and to the outer limits of the cosmos in order to touch the divine. In the process, the contemplative "knows" God not in an extrinsic, conceptual way but from within, experien-tially. At the very heart of existence one is in touch with holy mystery, a relation for which the I-Thou relationship among human beings is only a remote analogy. As a result, a certain intuition arises by which one begins to know and love the world as God does. This attitude is totally inclusive of all creation. Everything created is precious and sacred within the cosmic ambience of life and is cause for delight and January-February 1994 13 Johnson ¯ Between the Times thanks. But the evident brokenness of the world and damage done persons and other creatures are cause for grief, compassion, and protest. In some unspeakable situations,, the utter depravity of evil occasions the most profound, wordless hope against hope, without any supports, in the risk that God is faithful in judgment and grace. The contemplative attitude is thus not otherworldly but pro-foundly turned toward this world in celebration and resistance, knowing that the Creator is also the Redeemer. The prophetic lifestyle and action that express this way of seeing are not the result of simple humanism (although the world could use a lot more of this too) but of real belief in God. In solidarity with divine purpose for the world, prophetic persons and communities desire to restore right relationships and so to set right what causes pain and suffering. While this has always been the case, the hermeneutic of prophecy in our day with its sophisticated knowl-edge of systems realizes that the wounds of the heart also afflict culture. Thus prophetic witness includes critique not just of per-sonal acts but also of social, economic, and political structures and values in society. Knowing, too, that we are a sinful church always in need of repentance and reform, this witness is borne toward the values and structures of the community itself. The prophetic stance is marked by a number of characteris-tics. These include attentive listening to the creative Spirit of God, connecting with the suffering in a situation and evaluating its causes, naming what is unjust, being empowered to articulate an alternative future based on the dream of God for the world, bringing compassion and hope to the brokenness, and resistance and challenge to the status quo that would maintain it. In the process prophetic persons and communities strive to empower people in their struggle to live and survive, in turn being taught and empowered by them to continue to seek the face of God. In the Christian tradition this witness is shaped by the fol-lowing of Jesus, in whom the compassion of God takes flesh in the world. Contemplation and prophecy were indivisibly connected in his historical life. As Edward Schillebeeckx explains, "In the prophet Jesus, mysticism and healing came from one and the same source--his experience of the contrast between the living God and the history of human suffering." ~2 The reign of God that he announced envisages an end to exploitation or suppression; his ministry in word and deed enacted practical anticipations of this 14 Review for Religious salvation to come. His own drink from the cup of suffering in torment and execution and the seal of God's graciousness in the resurrection ground a hope in human history that has empow-ered discipleship ever since. Remembrance of Jesus through the power of the Spirit guides and informs the life of prophecy and ~ontemplation in the church. This vision of a wholistic con-templative, prophetic shape to reli-gious life in the future, glimpsed in the literature, is already a living, growing reality in some cases. It also stands in contrast to the overall shape of religious life in the present, which has become domesticated by too close an identification with the law, structure, and spirituality of the institutional church. In a particularly eloquent argument, Diarmuid O'Murchu, taking a clue from reli-gious life as it is lived in Eastern religions, contends that religious life in the west needs to reclaim its liminal identity, a move of genuine conversion en.tailing profound change in spirit and structure. Re!igious would then be known as persons and communities who are in touch with the sacred, passionately committed to just and loving relationships, fiercely resistant against exploitation of the earth and of persons, and willing to live countercultural lifestyles with and for the marginalized. They would stand in church and society a.s liminal, archetypal, prophetic persons, articulating and empowering the deepest love.13 To arrive at this goal, religious must confront many chal-lenges and questions. A key CMSM paper muses: People in general probably do not think of us as genuine prophets. What must we do, what price must we pay, if we wish to embrace a prophetic stance? How can we be prophetic without becoming triumphalistic? How can we be prophetic without losing a ministry .to the middle class which is the social origin of nearly all of us? How can we learn to read the signs of the times and discern more surely the thrust of prophecy? What steps must we take to arrive at solid social and cultural analysis? How can we relate our The contemplative attitude is thus not otherworldly but profoundly turned toward this world in celebration and resistance, knowing that the Creator is also the Redeemer. ~anuary-February 1994 15 Johnson * Between the Times traditional institutions to the prophetic role? How can we motivate ourselves, with God's grace, to accept a materi-ally poor standard of living? We have more questions than answers, but we believe that we are on the way to a new, more prophetic presence within the U.S. Church.~4 The Futures Project identifies "fidelity to purpose" and "response to absolute human need" as the two most basic ele-ments for the revitalization of religious life. As this brief survey of the literature shows, the search for the sacred in resistance to what afflicts the world is being fingered as the purpose that will shape the new form of this life. The move toward a contemplative-prophetic stance augurs well for the future insofar as it grapples with the religious heart of the matter in the context of the suf-fering of the contemporary world. Experience of God My own reflection on these matters brings me to a founda-tional area not frequently mentioned in the literature, namely, the idea of God that undergirds the evangelical life. The fasci-nation with the mystery of God is endemic to religious life every-where and at all times. The varieties of structures and self-understandings that have emerged in the course of history only serve to underscore this fact. As Sandra Schneiders observes, "Whatever unites all these people is more interior and spiritual than forms of life or types of behavior."15 The common thread that unites them all is a search for relationship with the sacred, leading to a certain kind of absorption with the religious dimen-sion of life. "Those who are called 'religious' in the technical sense of the word," writes John Lozano, "have decided to adopt a way of life whose intrinsic, underlying explanation is religious experience.''16 This way of life intends to give daily, concrete expression to the experience of God, to empower its further devel-opment, and to manifest its fruits publicly. Put another way by Ladislaus Orsy, the only reason for religious life is the experi-ence of God. This being so, it seems vitally important to inquire about the idea of God that is presupposed at any given moment, for this structures the experience of God that sustains the entire endeavor. As the primary symbol of the whole religious system, the idea of God is a lodestar. It represents what a community takes to be the 16 Review for Religious highest good, the profoundest truth, the most appealing beauty. Thus it is not a neutral concept, but functions powerfully to shape the personal and corporate identity of believers. A religion, for example, which would speak about a warlike God and extol the way he smashes his enemies to bits would promote aggressive group behavior. By contrast, speech about a beneficent and lov-ing God who forgives offenses would turn the faith community toward care for the neighbor and mutual forgiveness.'7 By definition, the One whom people call God is the recipient of absolute human trust, God being "that to which your heart clings and entrusts itself" in the memorable phrase of Martin Luther (OSA).~s Consequently, the idea of God implicitly guides all of a person's and community's principles, choices, system of values, enterprises, and relationships. The symbol of God func-tions. Neither abstract in content nor feeble in its effect, it sums up a people's sense of ultimate mystery, the proper order of the world, and the right orientation of human life and devotion. Along with many others, I sense that a seismic shift is occur-ring in the experience and idea of God in our day and culture. Fully aware that not all people who live at the same time are con-temporaries, I nevertheless think that a certain culturally condi-tioned cast of mind is emerging in our era that yields an idea of God markedly different from the classical model. VChat is emerg-ing is a notion that coherently supports and strengthens prophetic and contemplative consciousness. Thus it is not just the move from a juridical to a pastoral relation of the church to the world, nor the dissolving of the sacred-secular dualism, nor increased global and ecological awareness, nor growing consciousness of injustice, nor any of the other ecclesial and social factors that alone or together are causing the changes in religious life. Rather, at the deepest level what is transpiring, I think, is new experience of God. The Postmodern World The contemporary mind-set in the United States shaped by conditions of the late twentieth century is frequently described as postmodern. First coined in artistic, literary, and philosophical circles, this term is used in a bewildering variety of ways to describe the sentiment that humanity must go beyond the mod-ern. Like the wanderer in Kafka's parable who, when asked where January-February 1994 17 Johnson * Between the Times he is riding to, responds, "I don't know,., only away from here, away from here, only by doing so can I reach my destination,''19. postmodernity points beyond the present to what cannot yet be readily envisioned. Philosopher Stephen Toulmin refers to the world "that has not yet discovered how to define itself in terms of what it is, but only in terms of what it hasjust-now-ceased-to-be," namely, the modern world originating from the seventeenth-cen-tury Enlightenment.2° Modern!ty esteemed at least four dynamic forces: the myth of unending progress, the clear and distinct ideas of universal reason, the power of the self-contained individual directed by his soli-tary ego, and the ascendancy of human control over nature. By contrast, postmodernity is conscious of the end of progress, the limits of reason, the sad isolation of the unconnected individual, and the catastrophe that results when nature is disrespected. Not everything originating in the modern era is to be discarded. One would want to keep the emphasis on human dignity and human rights and their expressions in liberty and equality (fraternity in isolation is suspect). But postmodernity is awake to the egregious failures that the modern ethos has wrought. It wants to go Away- From-Here. Perhaps the most felicitous description comes from David Power, who observes that postmodernism is the sensibility that does not try to pretend that the twentieth century has not hap-pened. Sprung from the disruptive, out-of-control evils of this century, postmodern consciousness is aware of the chaotic, con-tingent, threatened character of existence and the fragility of the human project. Two distinct but related positions have developed within this general description. One, the option for deconstruction, seeks to undo the power and securities that produce such evils. In theory and art it pokes holes through the rationalizations of the victors, unveiling their pretensions to righteousness and order. While in its extreme form postmodern deconstruction leads to radical skep-ticism and nihilism, its bracing insights are powerfully instruc-tive as to what should not be. In tandem with this option, a second, more constructive model has emerged. Suspicious of inherited triumphal truths, it seeks out suppressed voices and sto-ries, risking new interpretations of established tradition "from the margins" in order to enable resistance to the forces of destruc-tion. Its aim, unlike nihilism, is a more just and humane universe. 18 Review for Religious It is this latter type of constructive postmodernism, found in intellectual theory, literature, and art as well as in grass-roots movements, that generates a certain kind of spirituality.21 Its char-acteristics are painted here in broad strokes. Postmodern spiri-tuality notes the ambiguous character of progress itself and takes its bearing not from the dream of untrammeled, irreversible progress fueled by a consumerist mentality, but from the suffering of those on the underside of history, keeping in view the gaps and failures of human advance. It seeks wisdom not in the clear and distinct ideas of what is claimed to be universal reason but is in reality the thought of privileged men; rather, it honors the plurality and ambiguity of human con-sciousness, sensitive to the differ-ence that difference makes according to one's social location in gender, race, and class. The com-pass of postmodern spirituality points not to rampant individual-ism and its violent outcroppings but to the importance of community The compass of postmodern spirituality points not to rampant individualism and its violent outcroppings but to the importance of community and tradition, prizing human solidarity and peace. and tradition, prizing human solidarity and peace. It finds life not in human supremacy over the earth but in affective kinship with the extended family of the cosmos. In a word, it prizes not isolation but essential connectedness; not body-mind dualism but the wholistic, embodied person; not patriarchy but inclusive fem-inism; not militarism but expenditure for the enhancement of life; not tribal nationalism but global justice. Our age is witnessing the shift to a postmodern cast of values, in theory if not always in practice. This constitutes a widespread, if not universal, cultural phenomenon in the United States, even among Christian believers. It may well signal the first phase of an axial breakthrough in human consciousness that will shape the next millennium. If so, that is of no little significance for the future of religious life in this country. For the postmodern sensi-bility in its constructive form has a strong affinity with the prophetic-contemplative stance increasingly envisioned as con- January-February 1994 19 Johnson ¯ Between the Times stitutive for the future of religious life. At the very core of that life is the experience of God. And so we come to the heart of the matter by asking how the postmodern matrix shapes the experi-ence and concept of the sacred. Postmodern Experience of God In our era the concept of God developed by rational En-lightenment theology in the context of modernity has become largely unbelievable. Whether drawn from revelation or philo-sophical inference, this by-now-traditional theism views God as the Supreme Being who created all things and who governs all things with inscrutable providence. Perfect in a way that stands in sharp contrast to the finitude of creatures, "he" (the theistic God is always referred to in male terms) is "infinite, self-existent, incor-poreal, eternal, immutable, impassible, simple, perfect, omni-scient, and omnipotent.''22 Although architect and ruler of the world, it is essential to God's deity that he be essentially unre-lated to this world and unaffected by what happens in it. This view therefore excels at stressing ,divine transcendence and its human counterpart of spirit, while divine immanence along with the importance of matter and the body tend to slip from view. This God of classical theism is modeled on the pattern of an earthly absolute monarch, a metaphor so prevalent that most often it is simply taken.for granted. As a king rules over his subjects, so God the Lord has dominion over his creatures, a view which, as Sallie McFague has shown, is intrinsically hierarchical, whether the divine reign be accomplished through dominance or benevo-lence. 23 In theory such theism adheres to the truth that the mys-tery of God is beyond all images and concepts. Yet history shows how in practice modernity tends to objectify God, reducing infi-nite mystery to an independently existing Supreme Being along-side other beings, a solitary, transcendent power who together with the world can be thought to form a larger whole. This is the idea of God that is no longer seriously imagin-able within a postmodern sensibility. Factors that contribute to its lack of cogency include the evils of this century, contemporary science and its view of the universe, liberation and feminist anal-ysis, the political disparagement of dictatorship, and the encounter among world religions. Any one of these alone would put a large question mark next to the modern symbol of the divine. Taken 20 Review for Religious together within the cultural shift to postmodern consciousness, they all but bury it. The result for people of faith is the radical loss of their famil-iar God image, along with the experience of divine presence that it mediated. Along with this also comes the loss of their sense of place in the order of the universe. As Janet Ruffing comments on the domino effect of loss of the tradi-tional God image in religious communi-ties, "All the ways we had construed our place in the sun and the meaningfulness of our commitment have been gradually eroding.''24 But this experience is not restricted to religious life; it is culture-wide and has attracted a host of com-mentators. For Martin Buber, the loss signals the eclipse of God. For Karl Rahner, it involves entry into the spiri-tuality of a bleaker season. For Constance Fitzgerald, it means the classic mystical experience of impasse and dark night. For Sandra Schneiders, this dark night is not only individual but a corporate purification. For Martin Marry, winter serves as metaphor for this season of the heart. For Michael Bucldey, it is entry into emptiness, silence, the cross in accord with the dynamic of apophatic mysticism,zs For me, this shift is poignantly summed up in the titles of the first and last books of my friend and colleague William Hill OP, now seriously ill. He broke into print with Knowing the Unknown God, an exploration of how the Thomistic category of analogy could lead the mind to God even in the contemporary world. God might be unknown, but we were possessed of some knowl-edge through the judgments we make. Now his recent essays have been collected under the rubric In Search of the Absent God. We are not in possession at all. Enmeshed in history and its suffering, we can but seek the hidden face of the living God.26 The absence of God experienced through the breakdown of traditional mediations of structure and theory does not mean, how-ever, that there is no experience of God at all. In a profound dialec-tic, what has been taken away is encountered in the ache of its loss. Divine absence itself becomes a mode of divine presence. The unknowing beckons to a deeper knowing. Th~ darkness mediates a brightness that the eyes cannot see. The wintry horizon hints at Enmeshed in history and its suffering, we can but seek the hidden face of the living God. .~anuary-February 1994 21 Johnson ¯ Between the Times new life buried beneath the snow. The cry from the depths signals an affirmation of Life deeper than pain, as did Jesus' cry from the cross. As Maura Clarke wrote from E1 Salvador, "In the very absence of God here, God has never been more present to me." 27 It all depends on the character of God. If God be trustworthy, then we hope that we are grounded and enveloped by a Living Presence even here, in the night of the senses and of the spirit. While there is no universal enactment of salvation, the sacred comes in the form of promise mediated through everyday, small fragments of healing, beauty, liberation, justice, and love. This does not remove the darkness, but it allows us to keep on walk-ing. The ice melts but will freeze again: in history there are only relative victories. Lament and celebration are both necessary. Here there are no easy assurances, no props. We know God through hope and, in the face of starkness, even hope against hope, nourished by remembrance and the circle of community. For many years now I have found the prophet of this experi-ence to be Dietrich Bonhoeffer. In his vision God is being edged out of the world and onto the cross, and that is the way, the only way, that God can be with us: "only a suffering God can help.''28 His struggle to believe culminates in the maxim "Before God and with God we live without God.'':9 This is an experience of God in which darkness is an event of disclosure, clearing the decks of a false conception of God and opening contact with the incom-prehensible holy mystery of God who goes beyond all images, all grasping, all ~elling. The manageable God of the modern age who was immediately available and could be counted upon to intervene for our benefit is no longer there. But a new experience of God is already breaking through that intensifies our compassion. Constance Fitzgerald has wisely observed that what is going on in and through this experience is "a progressive hermeneutic of~e nature of God.''3° A full theology of God has yet to be writ-ten in a postmodern context, but the typical spii'itual experience of this age is yielding an unmistakable interpretation.3~ If there be a God at all, then this is absolute holy mystery that can never be fathomed. Not literally a male person writ large, the sacred can be pointed to by any created good: male, female, animal, cosmic. This mystery does not dwell in isolation from the world but encompassesit as the Matrix of its being and becoming. God in the world and the world in God--panentheism describes the mutual relation. Thus related, the Holy One of Blessing is a God 22 Review.for Religious of pathos who participates in the suffering of the world in order to transform it from within. Divine power is the strength of love, rather than raw, monarchical omnipotence. Passionate for justice and peace and compassionate over pain, Holy Wisdom typically self-reveals in the fragmentary breakthroughs of well-being that come about through human partnership with divine purpose. Forever God acts to create a fresh, new future: liberation is her signature deed. A God like this calls for an ethic of critical com-passion. We are impelled so to utter the word of God that the world will be changed and renewed by it. Religious people of all stripes are now in the transitional posi-tion of trying to find words and symbols for this personal and collective experience of God. A common language has yet to come to light. Yet the very way the search is being conducted gives some indication of the outcome. An LCWR paper expresses the efforts of women religious in this regard: God is immanent in creation, in the midst of the web of life. As we bond with the oppressed and marginalized, we know God standing on the side of the poor and oppressed, seeing with the eyes of the poor, leading the oppressed by alleviating oppression. In this context, we see God angry, sad, suffering, marginalized; we see God incarnated in peo-ples of color, in women, in the homeless and battered, the victims of violence and oppression of all kinds. And then the inevitable: Religious find themselves in a "Dark Night." The painful and intense moments of disintegration, which carry the hope for what can break through, characterize our living in this in-between.32 To sum up, the idea of God emerging in postmodern spiritual experience is a contemporary hermeneutic of the God whose reign Jesus preached and embodied: the God of life. If the experience of God is the core of religious life, and if it is this God who is being perceived in contemporary religious experience, then here is a key tt)eological factor shaping the future of religious life in the United States. Conclusion The dialectic between divine absence and presence, in the last analysis, is an experience of the Spirit of God: radically tran- ~tanlmry-February 1994 23 Johnson ¯ Between the Times scendent, like the wind blowing where it will; and at the same time radically immanent, dwelling at the heart of the world to vivify and renew all things. Empowered by the Spirit in our age, people of faith who treasure the living memory of Jesus seek the hidden God of life (contemplation) and live out the passion of God for the world in need (prophecy). It is my sense that religious life is riding the crest of this wave in the postmodern culture of the United States. Internally its forms are breaking down; its interpretive support systems are col-lapsing; rifts with the institutional church exacerbate the dark-ness, especially among women; many members are in distress. Most radically of all, forms of religious life that traditionally medi-ated the experience of God now not only do not mediate this experience but positively block it. At the same time, consciousness of the suffering of poor and marginalized peoples grows; action on behalf of justice continues to attract; women reclaim their human dignity and the voice that goes with it; the vivifying power of God is experienced in and through the human power to chal-lenge, cherish, and set free; the divine mystery is named in new ways. Here and there religious persons and communities begin to articulate the prophetic-contemplative identity coherent with these experiences and act in mission accordingly. For religious life in the United States it is now Advent, the most honest season of all. In my judgment, the times do not call for return to the securities of a previous age. In fact, the very effort to keep alive forms of religious life that have for the most part run their historical course may well be counterproductive to the evangelical following of Jesus. Rather,what is needed is vig-ilant patience, profound prayer, and the ability to act boldly toward that future where new forms of evangelical life will develop. Notes ~ See summary by David Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis, "Future of Religious Orders in the United States," Origins 22, no. 15 (24 September 1992): 257-272. Hereafter cited as the Futures Project. Also in Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 6-55. 2 1 would like to thank the following colleagues and friends for pro-viding me with materials for this essay: Mary Ann Donovan SC, Patricia Lucas CSJ, Thomas McKenna CM, Janet Ruffing SM, and Clara Santoro CSJ. My deep gratitude also goes to Mary Catherine Hilkert OP, John W. Padberg SJ, David Power OMI, and Sandra Schneiders IHM for read-ing and critiquing the manuscript in outline or finished form. 24 Review for Religious 3 Among the works that have made significant contributions are: Gerald Arbuclde, Out of Chaos: Refounding Religious Congregations (New York: Paulist, 1988). ~. Strategies for Growth in Religious Life (New York: Alba House, 1987). Marcello Azevedo, Vocation for Mission: The Challenge of Religious Life Today (New York: Paulist, 1988). Leonardo Boll, God's Witnesses in the Heart of tbe World (Chicago: Claret Center for Resources in Spirituality, 1981). Lawrence Cada et al., Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (New York: Seabury, 1979). Robert Daly et al., eds., Religious Life in the U.S. Church: The New Dialogue (New York: Paulist, 1984). Barbara Fiand, Living the Vision: Religious Vows in an Age of Change (New York: Crossroad, 1990). David A. Fleming, ed., Religious Life at the Crossroads (New York: Paulist, 1985). Mary Jo Leddy, Reweaving Religious Life: Beyond the Liberal Model (Mystic, Connecticut: Twenty-Third Publications, 1990). John Lozano, Discipleship: Towards an Understanding of Religious Life (Chicago: CCRS, 1983). ¯ Life as Parable: Reinterpreting the Religious Life (New York: Paulist, 1986)¯ Johannes Baptist Metz, Followers of Christ (New York: Paulist, 1978). Diarmuid O'Murchu, Religious Life: A Prophetic Vision (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1991). Sandra Schneiders, New Wineskins: Re-imagining Religious Life Today (New York: Paulist, 1986). Jean Marie Tillard, A Gospel Path: Religious Life (Brussels: Lumen Vitae, 1975)¯ The Way Supplement 65 (summer 1989): "Religious Life in Transition," pp. 1-152. Patricia Wittberg, Creating a Future for Religious Life: A Sociological Perspective (New York: Paulist, 1991). Evelyn Woodward, Poets, Prophets and Pragmatists: A New Challenge To Religious Life (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1987). 4 Works include: Mary Ann Donovan, Sisterhood as Power: The Past and Passion of, Ecclesial Women (New York: Crossroad, 1989). Nadine Foley, ed., Claiming Our Truth: Reflections on Identity by United States Women Religious (Washington, D.C.: Leadership Conference of Women Religious, 1988). January-February 1994 25 Johnson * Between the Times Marie Augusta Neal, Catholic Sisters in Transition: Front the 1960s to the 1980s (Wilmington, Delaware: Glazier, 1984). --. From Nuns to Sisters: An Expanding Vocation (Mystic, Connecticut: Twenty-Third Publications, 1990). Lora Ann Quifionez and Mary Daniel Turner, The Transformation of American Catholic Sisters (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992). Ann Patrick Ware, ed., Midwives of the Futttre (Kansas City, Missouri: Leaven Press, 1985). s "Hope-Filled Deeds and Critical Thought: The Experience of American Male Religious and Their Need to Reflect on It," paper pre-pared for the Third Inter-American Conference on Religious Life and printed in David A. Fleming, ed., Religious Life at the Crossroads, pp. 20- 50; John W. O'Malley, "Priesthood, Ministry, and Religious Life: Historical and Historiographical Considerations," Theological Studies 49 (1988): 223-257. The dearth of works in this category is due, I think, to the fact that for most men authors until recently, male experience, given its normative status in church and society, is simply presumed. Thus gendered experience has not become a major category of interpre-tation as it has among women. 6 L. Cada et al., Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life, is the ground-breaking study that brought the notion of cycles to present-day awareness. See the excellent fine-tuning of this thesis b~; Philip Sheldrake, "Revising Historical Perspectives," The \¥ay Supplement 65 (summer 1989): pp. 66- 77. 7 Here I have found the following particularly helpful: Howard Gray, "Shapes for the Fut.ure," pp. 289-295, and Helen Flaherty, "Religious Life in the U.S.--A Guess at the Future," pp. 296-309, in R. Daly, Religious Life in the U.S.; Anne Clifford, "Women Missioned in a Technological Culture," pp. 37-55, in N. Foley, ed., Claiming Our Truth; the address by Robert Schreiter, "The Environment of Religious Life in 2010," to CMSM/LCWR Assembly in Louisville, Kentucky, August 1989; and the videotape "Religious Life: The Constant Is Change," IHM Sisters, Monroe, Michigan, which is an analysis of societal trends by Amata Miller, Margaret Brennan, and Sandra Schneiders. 8 See Anne Carr, Transfo~wting Grace: Christian Tradition and I, Vomen's Experience (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988). 9 Joint Meeting of the CMSM and the Lcv~rR, Louisville, Kentucky, August 1989. ,0 Karl Rahner, "The Spirituality of the Church of the Future," Theological Investigations, vol. 20, Concern for the Church (New York: Crossroad, 1981), p. 145. ~ One of the best contemporary treatises on contemplation remains William Johnston, The Inner Eye of Love (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1978); and on prophecy, Walter Bruggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1978). 26 Revieva for Religious 12 E. Schillebeeckx, Christ: The Experience of Jesus as Lord (New York: Seabury, 1980), p. 821. ,3 D. O'Murchu, Religious Life: A Prophetic Vision, passim. ,4 "Pilgrims and Prophets," paper drawn up by the Religious Life and Ministry Committee of the CMSM for the Fourth Inter-American Conference on Religious Life and printed in D. A. Fleming, ed., Religious Life at the Crossroads, pp. 51-64; quotation at p. 57. is S. Schneiders, New Wineskins, p. 32. 16 j. Lozano, Life as Parable, p. 9. 17 See Gordon Kaufman, The Theological Imagination: Constructing the Concept of God (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1981), pp. 187-189. Kaufmann argues here for the importance of the great symbol of Jesus Christ who, as the image of the invisible God, manifests a God who does not act in a violent way but rather creates a community of love and equality in a peaceable and free way. !8 Martin Luther, "Large Catechism," The Book of Concord (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1959), p. 365. 19 Franz Kafka, "My Destination," Parables and Paradoxes (Berlin: Schocken, 1975), p. 189. I am indebted for this reference to Catherine Keller, "Toward a Postpatriarchal Postmodernity," in David Griffin, ed., Spirituality and Society: Postmodern Visions (Albany: State University of New York, 1988), p. 65. 20 S. Toulmin, The Return to Cosmology: Postmodern Science and the Theology of Nature (Berkeley: University of California, 1982), p. 254. For further descriptions of postmodernity, see Frederic Burnham, ed., Postmodern Theology: Christian Faith in a Pluralist World (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1989); and Paul Lakeland, Theology and Critical Theory (Nashville: Abingdon, 1990), chap. 7, "Catholicism and Postmodernity." 21 The essays in the Griffin collection are enlightening, especially his own "Introduction: Postmodern Spirituality and Society," pp. I-31. 22 H. P. Owen, Concepts of Dei~y (New York: Herder and Herder, 1971), p. 1. 23 Sallie McFague, Models of God: Theology for an Ecological, Nuclear Age (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), pp. 63-69. 24 Janet Ruffing, "Seeing in the Dark: The Present Moment in Religious Life," address to regional meeting of LCWR, Sparkill, New York, September 1991, p. 10. This address, somewhat edited, appears in Review for Religious 51, no. 2 (March-April 1992): 236-248. 2s M. Buber, The Eclipse of God (New York: Harper and Row, 1952); K. Rahner, see note 10; C. Fitzgerald, "Impasse and Dark Night," in Tilden Edwards, ed., Living with Apocalypse: Spiritual Resources for Social Compassion (New York: Harper and Row, 1984), pp. 93-116; S. Schneiders, see video-tape, note 7; M. Marry, A Cry of Absence: Reflections for the Winter of the Heart (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1983); Michael Bucldey, "Atheism and Contemplation," Theological Studies 40 (1979): 680-699. January-February 1994 27 Johnson ¯ Between the Times 26 William J. Hill, Knowing the Unknown God (New York: Philosophical Library, 1971), and In Search of the Absent God, Mary Catherine Hilkert, ed. (New York: Crossroad, 1992). 27 Quoted in Mary Catherine Hilkert, "The Experience of Impasse and the Roots of Wisdom," address to Dominican Leadership Conference, October 1991, p. 11. 28 D. Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison (New York: Macmillan, 1953), letter of 16 July 1944, p. 220. 29 Ibid, p. 219. 30 C. Fitzgerald, "Impasse and Dark Night," p. 112. 31 For a profound analysis see Peter Hodgson, God in History: Shapes of Freedom (Abingdon: Nashville, 1989); and Wendy Farley, Tragic Vision and Divine Compassion: A Contemporary Theodicy (Louisville: Westminster, 1990). 32 "Reflections upon the Religious Life of U.S. Women Religious," paper prepared for the Fifth Inter-American Conference on Religious Life, 1985, and printed in N. Foley, ed., Claiming Our Tmtth," pp. 173-181; quotation at p. 177. Cana, Meaning Uncertain Wine flowed until there was no more at a wedding in Galilee; Mary, seeing this, turned to her son, one till then like any other, a brother, a carpenter who measured what he said and did. "They have no more wine," she said. He hesitated, questioned her, stirred up feelings between them. In the end Jesus acquiesced, six stone jars, water into wine, a fine line crossed, spirit revealed. Yet the uncertainty remains, was it not a mother's prompting that disrupted heaven's intent or is love so strong even God can be swayed by its openness? Neil C. Fitzgerald 28 Review for Religious JAN P. SCHOTTE The Consecrated Life in Church and World: Toward the Synod On 30 December 1991 the Holy Father, Pope John Paul II, called for the gathering in autumn 1994 of the Ninth Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops to treat the topic: "The Consecrated Life and Its Role in the Church and in the World." But what exactly is a synod of bishops? What are the various theological elements connected with this institu-tion? What are its pastoral aspects? Practically speaking, how does the synodal process work? And in what way does the treatment of specific topics bring benefit to the whole church? toward the synod A Synod of Bishops Etymologically speaking, the term "synod," derived from the elision of two Greek words, syn meaning "together" and hodos meaning "road" or "way," literally means "together on the way" or "sharing a journey." This idea immediately calls to mind the Vatican II image of the church as the people of God "on the move," always on pilgrimage, led and guided by the Holy Spirit through history to its ultimate fulfillment when the Lord shall Jan P. Schotte CICM serves as the general secretary of the Synod of Bishops. This presentation of his to the May 1993 Meeting of the International Union of Superiors General in Rome was orig-inally published in the UISG Bulletin, no. 92, 1993, pp. 68-78. Bishop Schotte may be addressed at Office of the General Secretary; Piazza Pio XII, 3; 00193 Rome; Italy. January-February 1994 29 Scbotte ¯ The Consecrated Life in the Church come again (see Lumen gentium, §6). The term also calls to mind some biblical associations. For example, in John's Gospel Jesus calls himself the "Way" (see Jn 14:6), and St. Paul makes reference to Christianity as the "Way" (see Ac 22:4). The term's rich theological and biblical associations can be saidto culminate in the concept of the church as communion. As quoted in Cbristifideles laici, "communion speaks of a double, life-giving participation: the incorporation of Christians into the life of Christ, and the communication of that life of charity to the entire body of the faithful, in this world and in the next, union with Christ and in Christ, and union among Christians in the church." Therefore, "communion" should not be looked upon as something static, but an active and dynamic reality which is both a hallmark of the church and the divine force continually enliven-ing her. This mystery of the church's communion is reflected in an unlimited number of ways in the church's life, from its most sub-lime aspect in the sacraments, especially the Eucharist, to the var-ious encounters both personal and communal experienced by Christians everywhere. One instrument for celebrating the communal nature of the church on the local level is through archdiocesan and diocesan synods, which are becoming more frequent an occurrence. In convoking such a synod, a local bishop gathers around himself, as the source and foundation of communion or unity in his partic-ular church, various representatives of the church community-- lay, clerical, and religious--to pray and reflect in common and, using the eternal truths of the faith as set forth in the teachings of the church, to seek pastoral approaches and solutions to living the Christian life as a community and as individuals. The church's communal nature on the particular and univer-sal level also exists in the authority over the church which was established by Christ and subordinated to the task of preaching the gospel (see LG, §20 and §21). Therefore, where the synod of bishops uses the same word as that applied to celebrating the communal nature of the particular church, there is a basic theo-logical difference. The synod of bishops celebrates the mystery of church communion on the hierarchical level, that is, among the bishops. The Second Vatican Council describes this unity in the fol-lowing manner: "Just as, in accordance with the Lord's decree, 30 Review for Religious St. Peter and the rest of the apostles constitute a unique apos-tolic college, so in like fashion the Roman pontiff, Peter's suc-cessor, and the bishops, the successors of the apostles, are related with and united to one another'~ (LG, §22). This fundamental unity of the episcopate is the basis for the teaching on the collegiality of bishops (see LG, §22 and §23), which is like-wise an essential element in understanding the synod of bishops. The highest and fullest expression of this mystery of hierarchical communion is manifested and celebrated in an ecumenical council where the whole .episcopal college is convoked by the Holy Father. On various occasions the doc-uments of the Second Vatican Council refer to the episcopal gathering as a "synod" (see LG, §54; Christus Dominus, §36; etc.). But in this sense the word has the same meaning and theological significance as "council." Where the "synod of bishops" might resemble a "minicoun-cil," there is a fundamental qualitative difference between the two. For example, a synod convenes only a representative por-tion of the world episcopate, and unlike an ecumenical council, the synod of bishops is convened by the Holy Father for consulta-tive and not deliberative purposes. Nevertheless, despite the dif-ferences, "the synod of bishops," according to the Holy Father, "expresses collegiality in a highly ifitense way." The institution of the synod over twen.ty-seven years ago was inspired by the collaboration among the bishops at the Second Vatican Council and its beneficial effects for the whole church. Pope Paul VI on 15 September 1965 in the motu proprio Apostolica sollicitudo, establishing the synod of bishops, used these words: "With the aim of providing for a continuance after the council of the great abundance of benefits that we have been so happy to see flow to the Christian people during the time of the council as a result of our close collaboration with the bishops [and] because The institution of the synod over twenty-seven years ago was inspired by the collaboration among the bishops at the Second Vatican Council and its beneficial effects for the whole church. January-February 1994 31 Schotte ¯ The Consecrated Life in the Church of our esteem and regard for all the Catholic bishops and with the aim of providing them with abundant means for greater and more effective participation in our concern for the universal church, on our own initiative and by our apostolic authority we hereby erect and establish here in Rome a permanent council of bishops for the universal church, to be directly and immediately subject to our power." Much more than a structure inspired by the Second Vatican Council, the synod of bishops has proven itself to be an apt instru-ment for the implementation of conciliar doctrine and the appli-cation of its pastoral directives. At the same time it has also been the forum for the interpretation and further development of the teachings and spirit of the council. An Instrument of Continuous Pastoral Renewal Though each session is called to respond to unique pastoral situations, no synod is ever an isolated event, but has a relation to other synodal gatherings. Because each synod calls together a representative portion of the episcopate with its head the pope, each synod has a relation to the whole church. At the same time, because the synod is a unique response of the episcopal college to the mandate or mission entrusted to it by the Savior, each synod has a relation to the fundamental salvific mission of the church through history as well. A brief look at the various synods which have taken place to date is evidence enough of the importance of these episcopal gatherings for the church and their value in bring-ing about the reforms intended by the council. Pope Paul VI stated the goals for the First Ordinary General Assembly, held in the fall of 1967: "the preservation and the strengthening of the Catholic faith, its integrity, its force, its development, its doctrinal and historical coherence." One result of this meeting was the eventual establishment of the International Commission of Theologians to assist the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith and to broaden a discussion on approaches to theological research. The same assembly provided the stimu-lus for the 1983 publication of the revised Code of Canon Law and also made recommendations to the Holy Father on various pastoral questions. Two years later, in 1969, the First Extraordinary General Assembly was convoked to seek and examine ways and means of 32 Review for Religious putting into practice the collegiality of bishops with the pope. This meeting opened the door to greater collegiality in the pas-toral care of the universal church and in episcopal conferences and the relations between individual bishops. In 1971 the Second Ordinary General Assembly treated two subjects: "The Ministerial Priesthood" and "Justice in the World." In the former, treatment was centered on the theological nature of the priesthood with the intention of addressing certain diffi-culties experienced by priests in the course of their ministry. On the subject of justice, the bishops stated the need to relate the gospel to existing worldwide and local circumstances. "Evangelization in the Modern World" occupied the work of the Third Ordinary General Assembly held in 1974. At this assem-bly the bishops reemphasized the essential missionary character of the church and the duty of each member to bear wimess to Christ in the world. The bishops' recommendations and proposals sub-mitted to the pope were used in the formulation of the apostolic exhortation Evangelii nuntiandi. At the Fourth Ordinary General Assembly, which took place three years later, in 1977, the discussion of the bishops centered on "Catechesis in Our Times," with special attention given to the teaching of the faith to children and young people. Shortly after the synod, Pope John Paul II issued the apostolic exhortation Catecbesi tradendae, which utilized a great many of the bishops' insights and proposals. The First Special Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, popularly known as "The Dutch Synod," was convoked in 1980 to examine more thoroughly the teachings of the Second Vatican Council on the mystery of church communion and its practical implications on the universal and local level, and the figure of the bishop and his ministry. In this way the synod sought at that time to address its designated topic, "The Pastoral Situation in Holland." The Fifth Ordinary General Assembly in 1980 reaffirmed the church's teaching on the family, in particular defending marriage and the contents of Humanae vitae. From the discussion and the proposals of the assembly, the pope issued the apostolic exhorta-tion Familiaris consortio. In 1983 the Sixth Ordinary General Assembly, held during a specially called Holy Year commemorating the 1950th year of Redemption, appropriately discussed the need of applying the fruits of Christ's passion, death, and resurrection to the individ- January-February 1994 33 Schotte ¯ The Consecrated Life in the Church These different synodal gatherings which have taken place in the course of the synod's history appear more and more clearly as a continuous process of pastoral renewal. ual and society. The bishops' work during the synod served as the basis for the apostolic exhortation Reconciliatio et paenitentia, which for the first time was designated a "postsynodal" docu-ment. The Second Extraordinary General Assembly in 1985 com-memorated the "Twentieth Anniversary of the Conclusion of the Second Vatican Council" and assessed the state of church renewal according to conciliar teachings. The recently published Catechism of the Catholic Church was the result of a proposal by the bishops at this episcopal assembly. "The Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and in the World" was the topic chosen for the Seventh Ordinary General Assembly in 1987. Through a con-sideration of vocation and mission in the context of church commu-nion, the bishops sought to empha-size the distinctive nature of the lay faithful in the church's life and her work of evangelization in the world. The fifty-four proposals of this assembly were used in the formulation of the postsynodal apostolic exhortation Christifideles laici. In 1990 the Eighth Ordinary General Assembly again took up the subject of priesthood. However, where in 1971 the bishops focused on the theological nature of priesthood and its implica-tions, this assembly's attention was more pastoral in tone, cen-tering. upon priestly formation and the "person" of the priest himself-both religious and diocesan--before and after ordination. The forty-one proposals from this assembly were used by the Holy Father in the formulation of the postsynodal apostolic exhor-tation, Pastores dabo vobis. The Special Assembly for Europe was called in the follow-ing year, 1991, to help discern the kairos of the situation on the European continent created by the historic fall of communism and to consider the role of the church in the various programs of renewal and construction. 34 Review for Religious In preparation are two other special assemblies. In his recent apostolic visitation to Africa last February, the Holy Father announced, in conjunction with the release of the assembly's Instrumenturn laboris, that this special assembly will take place in Rome in 1994, just after Easter. In March the Lineamenta of the special assembly for Lebanon was published, initiating the con-sultation phase of the preparation for that synod. These different synodal gatherings which have taken place in the course of the synod's history appear more and more clearly as a continuous process of pastoral renewal, giving opportunity through prayer and reflection to deepen a sense of the church's mission and to stimulate all the people of God to participate in this mission, each according to his or her state. Perhaps our under-standing of the synod of bishops can be further enhanced by fol-lowing the synod process which has taken place thus far in the preparation for the 1994 synod on "The Consecrated Life and Its Role in the Church and in the World." The 1994 Synodal Process The principles governing the synod of bishops and the synodal process are set forth in three basic documents: the motu proprio Apostolica sollicitudo of Pope Paul VI establishing the synod; Ordo synodi episcoporum celebrandae, or the Constitutions of the Synod of Bishops; and the Code of Canon Law, canons 342 to 348 inclusive. For the purpose of our presentation I will limit myself to those aspects of the process which immediately affect the synod topic, its documentation, and the various preparatory phases leading to the synodal gathering. Before the conclusion of the Eighth Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, the synod fathers were asked to elect from their number, according to synod regulations, the required fifteen-member council to assist the general secretary in the follow-up work of the assembly and to work on the prepa-ration of the Ninth Ordinary General Assembly. At the same time the synod fathers were invited to make suggestions on a topic to be treated at the next general assembly. There is a certain value to this initial exchange on the topic during the general assembly because the responses are spontaneous and unprepared. In making their suggestions the bishops were asked to keep in mind the following general criteria in selecting a synodal topic: (1) January-February 1994 35 Sctsotte ¯ Tlse Consecrated Life in rise Church that the topic have a universal character, that is, a reference and application to the whole church; (2) that the topic have a con-temporary character and a certain urgency, that is, have the capa-bility of exciting new energies and movement in the church towards growth; (3) that the topic have a pastoral focus and appli-cation as well as a firm doctrinal basis; and (4) that treatment of the topic be feasible, in other words, that it have the potential actually to be accomplished. In retrospect it is interesting to note that even in the initial consultation during the synod itself a con-vergence of ideas was evident regarding the treatment of some aspect of the consecrated life. Shortly after the conclusion of the general assembly, the gen-eral secretariat continued the consultation process by preparing a letter with the above criteria and sending it to the patriarchates, bishops' conferences, heads of offices of the Roman Curia, and the Union of Superiors General--the normal participants in the synod process. This communication requested the submission of three topics in order of preference. The suggestions coming from this consultation were then analyzed and discussed by the members of council of the general secretariat at one of its regularly sched-uled meetings, and a series of formulations of the theme in order of preference was submitted to the Holy Father. Until now the Holy Father has always selected the council's first choice, con-vinced that the consultation process provides a true indication of the desire of the universal church to treat a given subject. Such was the case for the topic of the 1994 synod. The general consultation process revealed a remarkable con-vergence of ideas indicating a preference for the topic of the con-secrated life. Initially some persons made a rather shallow interpretation to explain the choice, insisting that since the laity and the priesthood were treated in the two previous synodal assemblies, it was only logical that the consecrated life should receive attention. The truth of the matter is that in the course of the consultation a great number of reasons were given for calling a synod to treat the topic of the consecrated life. Many argued in the following manner. 1) With the importance of the consecrated life in the church today, there is necessity to reaffirm its true nature in various new social contexts and in the world at large. 2) The flourishing of vocations in some parts of the world 36 Review for Religious and the crisis of vocations in others requires a thorough exami-nation of the consecrated life. 3) After the Second Vatican Council, various efforts have been made to rewrite constitutions, to propose anew the charism of the founder, and so forth, and consecrated life in general has been subject to an overall renewal. Therefore, the time seems right to engage in an evaluative process. 4) The question of the relationship of those in consecrated life to bishops deserves renewed consideration as well as the sub-ject of the greater participation of women and men religious in the overall pastoral plan of a diocese, particularly in light of the unique charism proper to each. Where the document Mutuae relationes has been fruitful and productive on the whole, certain episcopal con-ferences have given indications that there remain some areas still needing attention. 5) The new forms of consecrated life appearing in many parts of the church require evaluation and proper guidance. The nature of religious institutes, secular institutes, and the societies of apos-tolic life needs to be clarified and their role in the church more clearly defined. Many of the new forms of unions and confrater-nities are appearing with the false notion that they are part of the consecrated life according to the evangelical counsels. 6) Some developments and interpretations have caused the common life for religious to be questioned. In some countries there are situations which deserve attention. 7) The prophetic character of consecrated life in certain cir-cumstances needs to be more clearly defined. How is a person in the consecrated life to respond in faithfulness to his or her voca-tion in the face of secularization, the crisis in culture, and the decline in moral values? 8) In some countries religious congregations have abandoned the work proper to them in favor of individual attempts at apos-tolic work. Such a situation raises the concern of religious con-gregations as well as bishops, requiring them to seek the proper pastoral approach to such situations. The above sampling of reasons underlying the choice of topic for the 1994 synod sufficiently indicates its universal appeal, pas-toral relevance, timely character, and feasibility. At the same time, it can be seen that they have a general inter-est for the entire church. In virtue of the church's unity, every part and every member will be affected by the exchange and out- January-Fetrruary 1994 37 Schotte * The Consecrated Life in the Church come. In this sense the synod will not simply treat a topic, but make suggestions to the Holy Father regarding the future. What does the consecrated life have in store for the future? How are those in consecrated life to live out their consecration in the apos-tolic mission of the church? What courageous and bold steps are required to meet the unique challenges made on consecrated life by the present state of affairs in the church and society? Before these questions can be faced by the bishops in syn-odal assembly, the church at large will have time to reflect on them and other aspects of the topic and be invited to make their observations known through the proper channels so that those required to make official responses on the topic to the general secretariat will have current information with which to work. The 1994 Lineamenta The synod process can be divided into four great moments: the Lineamenta, the Instrumentum laboris, the synodal assembly, and the postsynodal document. We logically pause to devote some time to explaining the Lineamenta document, the present stage of preparation for the Ninth Ordinary General Assembly. After the Holy Father's choice of topic, the council of the general secretariat at a regularly scheduled meeting held a roundtable discussion with the secretary of the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life and with representatives from the various groups associated with con-secrated life, that is, women and men religious, members of sec-ular institutes, and members of the international organizations of consecrated life in the church, namely, the Union of Superiors General for Men and the International Union of Women Superiors as well as the International Congress of Secular Institutes. The observations resulting from this meeting were fur-ther discussed and developed in subsequent council meetings, and with the help of theologians an outline and texts of the Lineamenta were drafted and studied, before a definitive text was submitted to the Holy Father. As its Latin name suggests, the Lineamenta is an "outline" or general presentation of the synod topic followed by a series of questions intended to direct the prayer and reflection of the whole church on the subject. The information resulting from this stage will provide the raw material for the synod's Instrumentum laboris 3 8 Review for Religious or "working document," intended to present a composite picture of the present situation and prevailing attitudes in the church on consecrated life and its role in the church and in the world. The Lineamenta document is divided into three major parts, each treating a specific aspect of the topic: (1) "The Nature and Identity of the Consecrated Life"; (2) "The Consecrated Life in the church and in the World of Today"; and (3) "The Role of Consecrated Life." The document's initial pages immediately address the prob-lem of terminology. Strictly speaking, the term "consecrated life" in Canon Law refers to religious con-gregations and secular institutes only. What, then, is to be done with soci-eties of apostolic life? Since canon 731, § 1, states that the societies of apostolic life are "comparable to the institutes of consecrated life," it was agreed that the synod topic would also include their treatment. Therefore, when the term is used in the Lineamenta, it is meant to be all-inclusive. After a brief introduction, Part I begins with an explanation of the essential characteristics of the conse-crated life, namely, vocation, conse-cration, mission, the evangelical counsels, the common life, eschato-logical witness, its essential values, and the commitment to the spiritual life. The section then proceeds to speak of the charismatic nature of the consecrated life, as wit-nessed in its variety of charisms and multiplicity of forms. In this regard attention is given to the charism of the founder or foundress, the various forms of consecrated life, institutes of con-templative life, brothers, secular institutes, societies of a.postolic life, and the new forms of consecrated life emerging today. The second part of the document describes the present situ-ation of the consecrated life in the church and in today's world, seeking on this basis to suggest various subtopics which merit consideration, for example, the direction to be taken by the con-secrated life with the approach of the third millennium, the fruits of renewal, new values and aspects of the consecrated life, nega- The synod process can be divided into four great moments: the Lineamenta, the Instrumentum laboris, the synodal assembly, and the postsynodal document. Jam~ary-February 1994 39 Schotte ¯ The Consecrated Life in the Church tive aspects (even these must be addressed), the necessity of a clear witness in responding to the challenges of modern society, and finally the situation in various countries and cultures (Africa and Asia come especially to mind). This section ends with a call to those in consecrated life to continue the renewal begun after the Second Vatican Council. The third section speaks in practical terms of the role of the consecrated life in the church and society, beginning with a pre-sentation on the ecclesial dimensions of the consecrated life, its relation to the church hierarchy, its coordinating structures in fostering communion, its place on the level of the local church, and its communion with the lay faithful. With this in mind, var-ious topics related to the role of the consecrated life within the universal church community are treated, including the new evan-gelization, authentic apostolic creativity, acceptance of the call to evangelization, remaking the fabric of society, promoting the unity of all the baptized, and the dialogue with followers of other religions. The concluding portion of Part III turns its attention to the church's mission in the world, emphasizing features associ-ated with the consecrated life, for example, its specific witness to God's love through the works of mercy; its attention to young people and their needs; its presence in schools, hospitals, and social programs; its dedication to work on behalf of the poor; its role--past and present--in the transmission and formation of cul-ture; and its part in the church's work of safeguarding the values of nature and conscience in today's world. The closing pages of the Lineamenta then offe~ a brief look at Mary as the model and mother of the consecrated life and a reflec-tion on the consecrated life in terms of a renewed presence of Christ in the world of today. The presentation concludes with a section containing the document's endnotes, followed by a table of contents. Incorporated in the Lineamenta text and appearing at the con-clusion of each section is a series of twenty-five consecutively numbered questions which are meant to focus the prayer and dis-cussion of the universal church on various aspects of the synod topic. At the same time, these questions and numbers are to pro-vide an orderly structure for the responses from various individ-uals and church bodies which will be formulated and submitted in the lively exchange on all levels of the church community dur-ing the consultation period. 40 Review for Religious Official responses are expected to be filed with the general secretariat by those normally involved in the consultation pro-cess, that is, patriarchates, episcopal conferences, offices of the Roman Curia, and the Union of Superiors General for Men. Given the synod topic, the International Union of Women Superiors and the International Congress for Secular Institutes are also to submit responses. All responsible for such responses are to work on the best possible manner of facilitating the reading of the document by individuals and groups associated with them, and of seeking information from them so that the responses may be truly complete and reflect the richness of the exchange on the various levels of the local church community. With the publication of the Lineamenta on 20 November 1992, a significant and important stage in the preparation for this synodal assembly was initiated. I would even go so far as to say a most critical phase, because the richness and depth of the Instrumentum laboris, the reference point and source of discus-sion during the actual synodal assembly, depends on the widespread participation of the whole church and a thorough-ness in answering the series of questions posed in the Lineamenta. For this reason, it is incumbent upon each individual in the church, no matter what his or her state or circumstance, to con-tribute through the accustomed channels in this presynodal prepa-ration period, thereby providing the necessary information which will be eventually used in the official responses to be sent to the general secretariat. From my experience over the years I am becoming more aware and convinced of the very real contribution and impact of synodal assemblies in the life of the church. These beneficial results come about not simply from a month-long meeting, but from the whole synodal process, from the consultation regard-ing the theme, the prayer and reflection period, the actual cele-bration of the synod, and its follow-up. Not only do the reflection and prayer which are a part of the Lineamenta phase assist in setting the agenda in the Instrumentum laboris or "working paper," but the process itself taps and exer-cises the dynamism of church communion in the listening, shar-ing, and stirring up of new energies on various levels of the church community. And after the synodal assembly, where there is a con-centrated effort at intensely living the communion which has come beforehand, the effects make themselves felt years later. January-February 1994 41 Scbotte ¯ The Consecrated Life in the Church The Lineamenta itself makes reference to this fact when it states that the occasion of this synod will provide the opportunity for "all members of the church, particularly the institutes of con-secrated life, to reconsider the subject of their own renewal in light of the challenges and the opportunities of the present moment," based on the church's appeal in these days "for a renewed endeavor towards evangelical life, towards a profound spirituality, and towards a generous presence in the new evange-lization" (§33). This time of synodal preparation, then, is an occa-sion for hope, a hope that this profound examination of the status of renewal and the prospects for future growth of the consecrated life in all its aspects will be a moment of grace and revitalization, and bring great benefits to all those in consecrated life and to the church as a whole. Message from a Coreopsis Lanceolata (Daisies Do Tell) Some of us are past our prime, And one of us has lost a few petals; Another--will never see the sun. Yet we all rejoice That we reflect our Maker And celebrate a loving God Who signs each one of us With his own life's Blood. Joann Stuever, ASC postulant 42 Review for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC Charism, Charisms, and Faddism d sexagenarian religious superior who keeps abreast of the times asked me if I had read the recent document on reli-gious life produced by the council of the General Secretariat of the Synod of Bishops. I said yes, adding hesitantly: "But it is not very interesting." Without hesitation she agreed completely. The Point of Departure: The Lineamenta Surely the Lineamenta, the preliminary agenda on "The Consecrated Life and Its Role in the Church and in the World" prepared in view of the forthcoming Ninth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, is not a particularly charismatic piece of writing. After all, it is not from the pen of a theologian like Rahner, or a biblicist like Elsa Tamez, or a feminist like Ruether, or a third-world figure like Amalorpavadass, or a cardinal like Martini. On the contrary, it is an official document with its strengths and weaknesses, treating the topic "in a complete organic manner, indicating the topic's precise content and its necessary limits''1 and touching upon "only the essential points of doctrine" (§4).2 As such, therefore, it would read somewhat like a protocol without the charismatic cadence or resonance of your fa~,orite author. However, considering that the document is the product of the pastoral office of the church, we would not be wrong if we rec-ognized in it the charismatic teaching included by Paul in his lists A. Paul Dominic SJ can be addressed at Satyodayam; S. Lallaguda; Secunderabad 500 017; India. .~anuary-Felrruary 1994 43 Dominic * Charism, Cbarisms, and Faddism of charisms. And so what it says about religious life as a charism that includes many a charism can serve for our mental nourish-ment and impart to us a spiritual gift (Rm 1:11). It can set us thinking about religious life as a matter of charismatic experi-ence, that is, an experience of living a fundamental charism through as many different charisms as there are societies of"con-secrated" or "apostolic" life. Any serious reflection on this mat-ter will prove to be relevant, for the prevailing confusion in religious life concerns partly the lack of clarity about charism and charisms.3 Religious Life as Charism Religious life, like all life, is best observed in its relationships. On the one hand, it is a part of the church; and, on the other, it is itself the church and so serving, like the church, the rest of the world (§3, §25, and §44). In the first perspective, religious life is one of the many charisms of the church; in the second, it is, as we said earlier, a fundamental charism giving rise to a wide variety of expressions of itself. The religious state of life is a "particular gift in the life of the church" (Lumen gentium, §43). As such it can be properly appre-ciated only when we see it in place, beside many other similar gifts enjoyed by the church. That is why the Lineamenta begins the consideration of charisms (§14-§17) recalling the mystery of the church as the Mystical Body of Christ endowed with many gifts, quoting Paul: "There are many different gifts, but it is always the same Spirit; there are many different ways of serving, but it is always the same Lord. There are many different forms of activ-ity, but in everybody it is the same God who is at work in all" (1 Co 12:4-6). By the parallelism of the verses, the different ways of service or activity are all to be understood as gifts in a variety of forms. Paul goes on to list such gifts in the immediate context (i Co 12:8-10, 28) and also in other letters (Rm 12:6-8 and Ep 4:11). A look at all the lists can give us an idea of the wide range of gifts enjoyed by the growing church. Though it would be anachronistic to look for the mention of religious life among the listed gifts of the Spirit bestowed on the church, note that celibacy is proposed as a special gift (1 Co 7:7). In the course of time the church came to recognize many more gifts in its ongoing life, gifts like asceticism, monasticism, vir- 44 Review for Religious ginity, choice of poverty, and social virtues, to speak only of those that have an obvious reference to religious life.4 As the church grew in self-awareness, it came to discover many elements that we now associate with religious life as its specific gifts; and so today we can speak about "the charism of the consecrated life" (§14), that is to say, the consecrated life itself viewed as a gift or charism. However various and heterogeneous the different charisms may be in the manner of their working, they are one and homo-geneous in intent and purpose. They are all meant to build up the Body of Christ. The Body of Christ is built up when the mem-bers are well nourished and so live to the full, reaching unity in faith and knowledge of the Son of God and forming the perfect Person fully mature with the fullness of Christ himself (Ep 4:13). This fullness of Christ is the same as the life permeated by the Spirit ever filling us or even overwhelming us with all her gifts and charisms. Such a life energized by the working of the Spirit is spiritual and holy. M1 the charisms of the Spirit nourish the life of the church, making it ever more holy with the life of Christ himself. Situating religious life thus in the sphere of the church's life of holiness and recognizing in it a universal reality in the church's makeup, the Lineamenta concludes: "With this in mind one speaks of 'the charism of the consecrated life'" (§14). Here is surely an echo of the approach to religious life taken by Lumen gentium, §39-§47. Such an affirmation of religious life, however, is slightly marred by the way the Lineamenta, following of course Vatican expresses it. After describing the way of holiness of religious life marked by vows that establish a special bond to God, Lumen gen-tium concludes: "Thus, although the religious state., does not belong" to the hierarchical structure of the church, nevertheless it belongs inseparably to her life and holiness" (see L §1; see also §14 and §36). One can discover a patronizing voice here, rightly or wrongly. Anyway, what a difference it would make if the state-ment were to read towards the end: "nevertheless, like the hier-archy, the religious state too belongs inseparably to her life and holiness." Does not Vatican II after all state in the chapter on universal holiness, "In the various types and duties of life, one and the same holiness is cultivated by all who are moved by the Spirit of God" (LG §41), and further go on to describe the way of holiness of the different classes of persons and finally end with a clear reference to the life of the religious (LG §41 and §42)? January-February 1994 45 Dominic ¯ Charism, Cbarisms, and Faddism There is a good reason why we can parallel religious life and hierarchy in this way. Of all the charisms enumerated by Paul-- who, incidentally, developed the terminology of charisms--the pastoral office of the hierarchy is the only one that concerns a state of life. This idea gets all the greater force because the pas-toral letters signal a development in the idea of charism which continued to prevail in postapostolic times. Paul's reminder to Timothy, "You have in you a spiritual gift which was given to you when the prophets spoke and the body of elders laid their hands on you" (i Tm 4:14), a reminder repeated again in 2 Timothy 1:6, certainly refers to Timothy's charism as one of grace of state or office. If we add to this way of looking at the hierarchical charism the reference to the charism of married life in 1 Corinthians 7:7, where there is a simultaneous reference to the charism of celibacy too, we can discern a line of thinking in which the various particular vocations in Christian life can be considered charisms establishing people in different states of life. So we can now speak in particular of the charism of religious life as the grace of the religious state of life; contributing to the holiness of the church in a particular way. In this context it is enlightening and inspiring to recall an old nomenclature of the religious state of life, namely, the state of perfection, proclaiming visibly the prophetic office of Christ wit-nessing to the kingdo~n here and hereafter. What is basic about states of perfection is the perfection to be acquired by way of the evangelical counsels in a community set-up. The function of any particular way of religious life, contemplative or active, lies. in this: that religious, by their very striving after holiness, call upon all Christians to do the same in their own way. So remarking, Bernard H~iring quotes papal authority in support: "The church would not fully respond to the mind of her Divine Bridegroom, men would not fix their eyes on her as on the 'the signal unto the nations'., if they did not find in her men who reflected the splendor of the gospel more through the example of their life than by means of words.''s All this is not so old-fashioned. A few years ago America carried an article describing religious as those who, unlike the laity, make religion their very career with its own particular structures that not only favor and promote it but also witness to it.6 The charism of religious is to be identified with striving for perfection, as the Lineamenta often repeats (§3, §5, §8, and §16). 46 Review for Religious To speak of the state of perfection is perhaps not a post-Vatican practice. However, in avoiding the falsity of perception possible in the expression, one need not altogether abandon its right use. Rather, we need to rediscover in the correct meaning of the phrase some essentials of religious life. Here is one: "It is not so much we who profess as others (the church, the community) who recognize that we. at least have received an explicit call and have come to a state of commitment to pursue it relentlessly, wholeheartedly; and radically.''7 But even in so reflecting on religious life as a state of perfec-tion, one should beware of a dan-ger. If one were to emphasize the personal pursuit of perfection that religious undertake, one is liable to overemphasize all their many undertakings on the path to perfection, thereby forgetting that any and every charism is a pure and simple gift of God. The story of Peter is apt here, as Bonhoeffer tells it. "Three times Peter heard himself proclaim that Christ is his Lord and God--at the beginning, at the end, and at Caesarea Philippi. Each time it is the same grace of Christ calling Peter to follow, and revealing itself to him in his confession." To reiterate the idea with Bonhoeffer: "This grace was certainly not self-bestowed. It was the grace of Christ himself.''8 Quoting all this, J.M.R. Tillard concludes; "Now, this costly grace., is for Simon Peter and for every religious the charism which makes existence as such a sign of the gospel. This charism comes from the Lord's Spirit . It is truly a gift made by the risen Lord, through his Holy Spirit, to his people. The Lord passes by. his grace seizes certain men and women. Poor sinners, they are nonetheless of those who will say to . . . the world: 'We have found what we were looking for! Come and see!' This is their charism.''9 One may, then, delve into the experience of religious life and discover in its depths not so much a for but a because of. No one enters religious life primarily for some thing or some work, but rather because of the One Who calls. "The for will come later, nec-essarily, but in the radiance and as the evangelical fruit of the No one enters religious life primarily for some thing or some work, but rather because of the One who calls. ~tanuar2/-Febrttary 1994 47 Dominic ¯ Charism, Cbarisms, and Faddism because of," as Tillard says.~° Can anything be clearer than this? Yet in the culture shock that religious were exposed to after Vatican Council II, not a few sought their identity in their works and tasks, in their of religious life. But the more they did so, the more elusive they found it. For their real existence as religious was concentrated in the call of Christ to which they had once com-mitted themselves because of the altogether new experience of being seized by the Lord's power. Their existence, therefore, became, or ought to have become, a new existence, a charismatic existence, a charism. Such a vision of religious life as the charism in itself appears distinctly, though in a less charismatic expression, in the Lineamenta when it speaks of the profession of the gospel as the supreme rule for all institutes, whatever their particular ministries may be (§8; see also Perfectae caritatis, §2). The Charisms of Religious Life Once religious life is understood in terms of one unique exis-tential charism underlying all forms of it, one may be able to appreciate the more familiar experience of the particular charisms that at once characterize and distinguish the various institutes. It is in this way that the Lineamenta would seem to interpret the charismatic nature of religious life as taught in the conciliar and postconciliar documents (§ 14). Logically and theologically, the consideration of the charism that constitutes religious life leads to that of the many charisms of religious life. It is the one charism of religious life that begets many a charism in it. Are not the latter "like branches sprouting out wondrously and abundantly from a tree growing in the field of the Lord"? (LG §43, quoted in L §16). Historically, however, what attracted the attention of people was the variety of charisms and not the one charism beneath and beyond all charisms. So, tracing the beginning of religious life from the very infancy of the church, Perfectae caritatis could point out: "Under the influence of the Holy Spirit, many., pursued a solitary life, or founded religious families . And so it happened by divine plan that a wonderful variety of religious communities grew up" (§ 1, partly quoted in L § 16). The mention of solitary life and religious families obviously refers to the twin charisms of original religious life, namely, 48 Review for Religious eremiticism and cenobitism (§9 and §19c). Cenobitism itself in the course of history developed two other charisms, namely, divine contemplation and human service. These in turn became spe-cialized in their ways of focusing on God and on people. In what-ever century religious live out their days, they adopt or develop distinct varieties of direct service of God and humanity, in imita-tion of Christ. Through them, therefore, Christ comes to be shown "contemplating on the mountain, announcing God's king-dom to the multitude, healing the sick and the maimed, turning sinners to wholesome fruit, blessing children, doing good to all, and always obeying the will of the Father" (LG §46, quoted in L §15). Often enough, charisms are considered, or even identified with, graces meant for the common good. Such a consideration is incomplete because it misses something important, namely, the source of the power of service. Charisms are particular graces imparted to us by which we bear or image or reflect or even become Christ in ourselves in a particular limited way, and so are able to render appropriate service in a specific context in a par-ticular part of the world in the manner of Christ himself. So they highlight in us "a specific aspect of the mystery of Christ" (§ 17). However, the gospel, or for that matter Christ himself, if under-stood with proper nuance, is not apart from the church. So the Lineamenta does well in describing charisms as bearing upon a specific aspect, not only of the mystery of Christ, but also of the church's life, and thus manifesting in the makeup of the Mystical Body the multiform grace of Christ (§15). One should not miss here how charisms are at once incarnational and ecclesial (§46). Charisms and Service Once it is grasped that charisms have to do primarily with a fundamental religious way of being, one cannot go wrong in insist-ing that charisms are out-and-out oriented towards service, "des-tined for service of the kingdom" (§3); for surely charisms have an inalienable reference, not only to the way of being, but also to the way of doing. The Lineamenta spells out the nexus between charism and service forcefully thus: "Each charism . . . brings with it a particular manner of faithfully and intensely living the evangelical counsels. In addition, it implies a particular and con-crete style of spiritual life, a determined form of apostolate, a .~anuary-February 1994 49 Dominic ¯ Charism, Cbarisms, and Faddism specific experience of community life, and a particular involvement in the world" (816 [emphasis added]; see also $8). What, then, are the specific paths of service in the building of the earthly city (§44)? Not forgetting the contribution of the contemplatives to society through their divine service of worship (§2)--the first permanent foundation of women in the United States was Carmelites~l--the Lineamenta illustrates the service of active charisms thus: "Today the consecrated life is present in our society through the multiplicity of apostolic services rendered to others, each according to its diverse charisms, in one magnificent expression of the charity of Christ on behalf of the integral for-mation of persons; in the education of children and young people, in the care of the sick, the suffering, the elderly, and those in want; and in aid to persons with special needs and those marginal-ized by society" (§44a). What do all such services intend except "to make operative the gospel of the beatitudes and the works of mercy" (§44a)? One particular element of service rendered by charisms con-cerns life of communion within the church. Different forms of religious life characterized by their different charisms do not con-stitute exclusive churches within the church, but, forming part of the one church, ought to feel themselves to be the church and so identify themselves with her (~3 and ~35; see also Perfectae car-itatis, §2c). The charisms of the different religious families, with their charismatic and yet ecclesial-minded founders, belong as much to the whole church as to the religious themselves (~16, §26e, and §46). For not only are they meant for the growth of the chhrch, but they also have their origin, regulation, guarantee, and approval in and from the church (§6, §15, and §16). Therefore, far from being closed in upon themselves, religious offer a rich fare for communion, reflecting ideal church commu-nion (§9). There is every reason, then, to identify the religious living together by the term community. Incidentally, the hierarchy as such can only contribute, in terms of sociology, to the culture of societas with role differentiation; but the religious as such plunge themselves into the heart of society with their charisms of ser-vice (§3, ~42, and §44) and break through segmentations in soci-ety and initiate the culture of communitas in our world.~2 In bringing about this new culture of communion in the world church, the religious, as "experts in communion" (§35), have nec- 50 Review for Relig~otts essarily to act locally in the particular church, but with their hearts spanning universally in the global church (§27a). The exercise of religious charisms "assists everyone--clergy and faithful--to open themselves to the universal and missionary dimension of the church, and., makes the particular churches an image of the uni-versal church" (§39). For a con-crete example of communion resulting from the enduring charisms, the Lineamenta points out the flourishing of lay third orders, lay associations, and lay-volunteer groups "whose mem-bers are bound under different titles to the spirituality and apos-tolic work of various institutes" (}41). Where the charisms do not serve the cause of church com-munion, they are likely to become mere means of some service or religious themselves. other without the underlying spirit. The Lineamenta warns of the danger of reducing the pres-ence of institutes to parochial ser-vice "without encouraging and welcoming the richness of the spirituality and their proper charismatic service" (~40). More plainly, in the church Body each part can do only the service it is meant for. As charisms are vivifying and beautifying graces of the differ-ent members of the Body of the church (§46), they complement one another; and so they cannot healthily coexist without mutual encounter and influence. Perhaps, in the pre-Vatican "ghetto" church, religious congregations developed their own ghettos, pos-sibly without even knowing it. But the time has come, especially in the era of ecumenism, for % better understanding of the sense of communion among foundational charisms" (§27b). It is high time, therefore, for religious to realize how a particularly har-monious communion among themselves, sharing one another's charism, "can and should contribute to express better the full-ness and richness of Christ" (§46), not only in his Body the church, but also in his extended body, the world in need of union. The charisms of the different religious families, with their charismatic and yet ecclesial-minded founders, belong as much to the whole church as to the Jan~ry-Febrz~ry 1994 51 Dominic ¯ Charism, Cbarisms, and Faddism As charisms serve the cause of communion in the church, so do they contribute to the unity of the separate congregations them-selves. It is unthinkable that a religious family could maintain its unity of life amid all its committed involvement in the world if it failed to cling to its essential charism for nourishment (§32b). Each particular charism, bringing with it a particular manner of intense eyangelical life, makes the presence of the one Lord pres-ent in space and time (§46) and thus "enriches the legacy of life, history, and spirituality characterizing each family identity, shared in common through the spirit of the founder or foundress" (§16). Keeping Charisms Alive The dynamism of religious life in its variety depends on the vitality of its true charisms. Once charisms turn false, they lose their vitality and spell the ruin of institutes. Present-day insti-tutes can continue their existence faithfully only if they recog-nize, recover, retain, and renew their particular charisms in their past originality and present timeliness (~ 17). What, then, can we say about the renewal of charisms? "In keeping with their proper charism" (§40) and similar phrases recur in the Lineamenta, as in the Code of Canon Law, emphasizing that the charisms are to be preserved with fidelity and continued without alteration, avoiding all subtle deviation from the original spirit (§16). This supposes in religious a healthy appreciation and pride in the early traditions of their congrega-tion, as advocated by Perfectae caritatis. Given the evangelical inspiration of all charisms, one can say more, drawing a compar-ison between keeping to the purity of the gospel and maintaining the primitive charism. As Paul insisted on an anathema for those who dare preach a different gospel (Ga 1:8-9), religious founders and foundresses could do likewise, enjoining their followers to abide by the spirit of their constitutions without any dilution or dissimulation on their part.13 In this spirit, while expressing appre-ciation of the general progress in the awareness of the separate charisms in the different congregations in the postconciliar era, the Lineamenta adds affirmatively: "This consciousness ought to find expression in a spiritual commitment and a working pres-ence which effectively enlivens and makes operative for the good of the church the spirit of the founder orfoundress and the legacy of each institute" (§3 lc). 52 Review for Religious Two modern experiences with regard to charisms are note-worthy. One, the preferential choice for the poor, which has been "a constant feature of charisms in the apostolic life, often inspired by the words and actions of the Lord" (§44c; see also §27d), is becoming more and more a serious concern for religious life, leading communities to share the very life of the poor and the marginalized with all their risks, trials, and problems. Second, reminiscent of the early successes of many a congregation, there is the geographical spread of extant charisms in the younger churches of the third world and in the newly liberated Eastern European countries (§27c), giving rise to new cultural expres-sions of them (§32c). The above-mentioned experiences are two fine examples of how charisms rise to the occasion and serve their purpose today, provided they are ever deepened and constantly developed (Mutuae relationes, §1 i; L ~16) according to the signs of the times (Perfectae caritatis, §2; L §17). The sign today is the oncoming of the third millennium, throwing up opportunities and challenges (§33) and giving rise to the sprouting of new charisms and new forms of evangelical life (§24 and §27c). One aspect of this deepening and developing of surviving charisms lies in the direction of their "being called upon today-- inspired by the spirit of the founder or foundress--to serve as the basis for making new commitments and responses in Christian charity to the new and old expressions of poverty in our world" (§29g) and, more generally, to the changed atmosphere of the world "because of the social and cultural happenings which have rapidly come about in modern society" (§25). This is reminiscent of the call of Mutuae relationes to be innovative enough for bold enter-prising initiatives (§12; L §42). Which persons are inspired enough and thus inspiring enough to make new initiatives and refound their congregations, warding off the subtle temptation to be wise in their own eyes? Only fer-vent people (§29e). Only they can update discerningly for today the expressions of their original charism. But in the absence of such people "a certain leveling in behavior and in the tenor of the spiritual and communal life has brought a certain loss of prac-tical identity in charism and works" (§28b)--as surely happened in India, for instance, when some religious working with the masses wanted no public association whatever with their congre-gation. So the apparently clever and outspoken members certainly ~tammry-February 1994 53 Dominic ¯ Charism, Cbarisms, and Faddism need to be cautioned, against tendential postures, theoretical and practical, regarding charisms that go against their.genuineness (§3 lc). A case in point was that of a Jesuit who spoke of the need to rewrite the Ignatian rules for thinking with the church, to the applause of the gathering of course, with scant awareness of their foundation in the mystical union of the church and Christ that inspired Ignatius's Eharacteristic service of the church. While there have been new, positive, and worthy initiatives-- the switch of women religious in the United States from the ser-vice of the clergy to frontier ministries should be hailed as one such measure though grudged by not a few men even in the highly progressive United States of Americal4--there have also been negative, unworthy, and false initiatives--which brings me to the discussion of faddism. Faddism Faddism, the cultivation of fads, has to do with "a rapid, sud-den, and ephemeral collective adoption of novel behavior which affects only superficial or trivial areas of life.''s It was certainly the fad of hasty paradigm shifting when some persons clamored for implementing changes in religious life at a faster pace than peo-ple could cope with. Even when people were willing to change, it was not without the grief of losing the familiar past or the fear of the unknown future. So whoever rushed their fellow religious into the world of Vatican II without at the same time providing them time to grapple with their fear or to grieve over or even rage about their apparent loss were carried away more by an itch for change (2 Tm 4:3) than by the breath of the Spirit, for whom there are times for everything. It was also a fad whenever an opinion gained ground that this or that particular individual was the resource person for renewal. To venture an example, it would seem that a certain fad of what may be called spiritual consumerism surrounded Anthony de Mello of Sadbana fame, for numbers of people kept looking to him alone for renewal, almost as if he were the director of world-wide renewal. In any case, whenever one individual looms too large in some endeavor, the result tends to be superficial, whereas all renewal worth the name happens deep within people, where the creative Spirit works in the innermost recesses of hearts. Another similax: fad, which coflld be called hybridization, was 54 Review for Religious the adoption of a celebrated model as the sole means of renewal, whether or not it squared with the blueprint of one's own origi-nal charism. If the one-month retreat according to the Spiritual Exercises appeared to be such a fad some twenty years ago, today in certain circles external dialogue--whether with native tradi-tions or modern situations--would seem to hold sway more than inner dialogue within one's own charism. Among all those who were "zealous" about reforms in reli-gious life, precious few resorted to a real praxis. Not only did individuals and small groups indulge in the fad of stylized ideo-logical talk.~6 Even entire provinces, if not whole congregations, could be all talk, adopting popular phrases about the poor, for example, rather than making sincere options for them. How pro-ductive can all this exercise be except for inviting occasional out-right condemnation. A bold village woman responded to a group of young religious whose actions were not as forthcoming as their words, "These are not the kind of shepherds who will save the sheep; they swallow the sheep." What is absent in feverish talk, namely, action, can itself become a fad and go beyond all proportion. The slogan (not the idea itself) "formation for mission in mission" suits such a fad, giving the go-by to minimum privacy and seclusion for necessary growth in maturity and personalization. Showmanship and one-up- manship feed this fad, causing each one's action to be largely unproductive. These things are the very opposite of prophetic action. They may have the imaginativeness of the prophets of old, but not their soundness of inspiration. The craze of using anything and everythin

Issue 40.1 of the Review for Religious, January 1981. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every Iwo months, is ediled in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are Iocaled at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1981 by REWEW FOR RELiGiOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at SI. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $17.00 for two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rt:vt~:w t'oR Rt:Lt(;tOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. .~eremiah L. Alberg, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor January, 1981 Volume 40 Number 1 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW t'ott RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's Universily; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW t'OR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. ++Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from Universily Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Review for Religious Volume 40, 1981 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Jeremiah L. Alberg, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1981 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOtJS. Toward a Method for the Study of Spirituality Edward Kinerk, S.J. Father Kinerk is presently on sabbatical leave, doing post-doctoral studies in spirituality at St. Louis University. He resides at Jesuit Hall; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108, A former professor of historical theology once described spirituality as a "gl0b" area. He explained this rather inelegant label by pointing out that spirituality enjoys an unlimited wealth of resources but possesses no tools for getting those resources organized. "I understand what it means to do history orto do theology," he objected, "but what does it mean to do spirituality?" StUdents contemplating work in spirituality will take small comfort in his remarks but they will know exactly what he meant, for, unlike most other academic disciplines, spirituality lacks both formal definition of its content and methodology proper to itself. Studies in the history of spirituality, prayer, religious life, Scripture, psychology, theology, and any number of authors and movements can be most beneficial in themselves, but where does one find the unifying principles to bring all this knowledge together? The occasional reader, who finds this or that work personally rewarding, will not be troubled by such abstract concerns,but this vagueness of content and style can be ~a formidable handicap for those who undertake a more thorough study, either for their own enlightenment or with the thought of being of service to others. In .the latter case one must analyze spiritualities, interpret them in their historical-cultural context, compare and contrast them to other spiritualities, and finally develop criteria for criticism and evaluation. The tools for such reflection are not commonly available in the way that they are for other disciplines, including theology.' Part of the difficulty lies in the very nature of spirituality. Except for the 3 4 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 Christological controversies of the fourth and fifth centuries it has been rare for theological speculation to elicit passionate responses on the part of Chris-tians, Spirituality, on the other hand, always makes at least an implicit appeal to the heart; it is much closer to people's lives and emotions than is theology. This is to be expected, but it places the "academic" study of spirituality in an awkward corner precisely because the material lends itself so immediately to practical application, the pastoral. Consequently, spirituality as a discipline finds itself more often called upon to train spiritual directors and retreat-givers than to engage in reflection. This onesidedness is risky. Spirituality can-not afford to neglect the mistakes or the riches which are a part of its heritage; nor can it forego with impunity the arduous task of using the theoretical pro-cess to correct the subtle mistakes of common sense.~ In a recent article for REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Father Alan Jones chronicled the split between devotion and theology--head and heart--and called for the redevelopment of mystical theology in order to "combat the tendency to anti-intellectualism today, particularly in areas where religious experience is concerned.-3 Using William Johnston's definition of mysticism as "wisdom or knowledge that is found through love,'" Father Jones sug-gested contemplation--which includes all levels of knowing--as the means of bringing reflection into religious experience and religious experience into theological reflection. Father Jones's concern to bring head and heart together must be a con-stant preoccupation for spirituality; the great classics were developed more in the chapel than in the library, though they depended on both. However, I believe that we have an auxiliary task which is less "creative" and more "organizational" in character. In order to bring the vast and often unwieldy material from the history of spirituality into the arena of our prayerful reflec-tion it must first be arranged into digestible form. The purpose of this article will be to suggest some questions or distinctions by which such arrangement can proceed: in other words, a method for the study of spiritualities. Of course, this is an ambitious undertaking, and 1 will protest in advance that ' Theologians may protest that method is a problem for them, too, but at least work is being done. Recently David Tracy has suggested five basic models which have influenced theologica~ inquiry: orthodox, liberal, neo-orthodox, radical, and his own "revisionist" model. See David Tracy, Blessed Rage for Order (Seabury, 1975), pages 22-34. Tracy has been influenced in part:through. his long association with the thought of Bernard Lonergan. In a very important work, Method in Theology (Seabury, 1979; first published: Herder & Herder, 1972), Lonergan ~ipplied his transcendental method to the task of developing a method in theology. 1 will cite Lonergan only briefly in the course of this article, but 1 need to acknowledge that the influence of Method has been considerable. 2 For an explanation of the relationship of the realm of common sense and the realm of theory, see Lonergan, Method, pp. 257-258. ' Alan Jones, "Spirituality and Theology," Rt~vm'w ~oR R~.l.~G~Ot~s 39 (1980), p. 171. ' William Johnston, The Inner Eye of Love (Harper & Row, 1978), p. 20. Jones cites this on p. 170 of his article. Study of Spirituality / 5 these are remarks "toward a method." But since the need is great, I hope that .any venture in this direction might prove useful. Spirituality needs (1) a definition of itself, (2) some tools for analyzing a particular spirituality, (3) some guidelines for relating a spirituality to other spiritualities, and (4) some criteria for evaluation. In the pages that follow I will make attempts in the first three areas and then conclude with some limited thoughts about the fourth. What Is Spirituality? Everyone has a notion of spirituality, but efforts to pin it down in defini-tion can, be frustrating. It is everywhere yet nowhere; its scope is so vast-- potentially as vast as the sum and depth of all human experience--that workable content virtually disappears. Spirituality has been described as "life-style." If we realize that this means more than length of hair and particular preferences for food and clothing, this definiton is actually quite good. A person's spirituality is the way in which he or she lives in accordance with basic values. The famous Swiss theologian, Hans Urs von Balthasar, has given this a more philosophical formulation: "The way in which [an individual] acts and reacts habitually throughout his life according to his objective and ultimate insights and decisions.''~ The strength of such a definition lies in its completeness; its weakness is that it is too complete. We are left afloat on a sea of private human experience with no markers to make this or that dimension of experience stand out. These defini-tions are good because they include everything, but they are not workable because they distinguish nothing. And without distinctions analysis is impossible. What should we look for in a workable definition? First of all, a definition of spirituality for the purpose of study should limit the material to what is expressed. Nothing canbe studied unless it iscommunicated in some way. It is true that spirituality must deal with the mysterious depths of the human per-son in relationship to God and that. this mystery often defies conceptualiza-tion. However, it is usually open to communication through symbolization; and this, too, is a form of expression. Spirituality studies expressions, and these expressions can be conceptual or symbolic: they can be words, or they can be art, music, architecture, or indeed any form of human activity. Of course, an individual's full experience of his or her relationship with God can never be adequately expressed., not even symbolically. This is simply a dif-ficulty which the study of spirituality must accept; we can only examine what is expressed and yet we know that the expression is never exhaustive of the reality. Secondly, a definition of spirituality should contain the idea of personal ~ Hans Urs yon Balthasar, "The Gospel as Norm and Test of All Spirituality in the Church," from Spirituality in the Church, Christian Duquoc, editor, Concilium, vol 9 (Paulist, 1965), p. 7. 6 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 growth. There is no spirituality for an animal, nor do we ever speak of God's spirituality.~ What distinguishes the human condition is growth beyond self, self-transcendence. There is a restlessness which is a constant striving to move from the less~ authentic to the more authentic. This is why spirituality gravitates so readily to psychology, and it is precisely the point at which the greatest care must be exercised not to confuse the two.7 Finally, as indicated earlier, a workable definition must contain markers: terms in the definition which orient the material by distinguishing what is important from what is unimportant. Without some means of making distinc-tions the material of spirituality presents an undivided sameness inimical to study. Markers differentiate that material; and this, in turn, facilitates ques-tions for analysis. The particular selection of markers will necessarily be somewhat arbi.t.rary. Here I have chosen to view any spirituality primarily from the standpoint of expressions of the authentic and expressions of the inauthentic. A spiri'tuality, then, is the expression ofa dialecticalpersonal growth from the inauthentic to the authentic. There are three ingredients in the definition: expression, dialectical personal growth, and authentic-inauthentic. Expres-sion need not be clarified further. Growth has been called dialectical to underscore the fact that all spiritual growth is a simultaneous "yes" to one thing and a "no" to something else. Each step toward the authentic demands a corresponding rejection of the inauthentic.8 The Gospel of Luke manifests this dia.lectical character in its expression of the beatitudes: every benediction has its corresponding curse (Lk 6:20-26). Inauthentic and authentic are the markers referred to above. The total authenticity of a human person would be his or her complete self, transcendence in love. Conversely, total inauthenticity would be complete self-alienation, self-centeredness in hate. For our purposes, however, expres-sions of the authentic and inauthentic will normally be but partial representa-tions of these absolute states. In a famous line from the Imitation of Christ, for example, compunction is an expression of the authentic while vain knowledge is an expression of the inauthentic;9 they are signposts along the ~ Process theologians may take exception to this. In a di-polar notion of God one might be able to speak of God's spirituality: "God in his consequent aspect receives into himself that which occurs in the world, so that it becomes the occasion for newer and richer, as well as better~ concretions in the ongoing movement of divine activity," W. Norman Pittenger, "Process Thought: A Contem-porary Trend in Theology," Process Theology, Ewert H. Cousins, editor (Newman, 1971), p. 27. Even if one were to accept this position, it would be quite difficult to move from the idea of a spirituality of God to its description. ' It is very easy for spiritual direction to become psychological counseling. Of course, sometimes this is desirable because it is counseling which is needed, but often we slide into a counseling framework simply because it seems to have more substance than spiritual direction. This again reveals the necessity of definition and methodology proper to spirituality. a Lonergan views this as a fundamental characteristic of religious development. See Method, p. II0. Study of Spirituality / 7 way. Furthermore, specific expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic are not always univocal, even within the sam, e spirituality. In the Cloud of Unknowing, meditation on Christ's passion can be either an expression of the authentic or the inauthentic, depending on the stage of one's contemplative development.'° Questions for Analysis In an age as hermeneutically conscious as our own, it need not be stressed that a pre~'equisite for the analysis of any spirituality is some understanding of its historical-cultural context. To be unaware, for instance, that the end of the Roman persecutions coincided with the great movement to the desert in the fourth century would be to miss the opportunity for many insights into the roots of desert spirituality. The historical-cultural context is available for anyone who wishes to take the time to do someresearch. Our project assumes that this research can and will be done, but we are concerned here with something more general. Questions for analysis must serve two purposes. They must provide a means of organizing the material of a spirituality in such a way that the material can be more easily assimilated. In other words, they must teach us how to read and. how to retain what we read more effectively. The other pur-pose is that of comparison and contrast. The questions for analysis must be such that they canbe asked more or less equally of any spirituality. It is only by putting the same questions to many different bodies of material that we can begin, the,process o.f comparing similarities and contrasting differences which will lead us to deeper understanding. The first question flows immediately from the terms of the definition: what.are the expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic? An effective way to begin answering this question is to make a list. Reading through the SpiritualExercises of St. Ignatius, for instance, we would observe that shame and confusion, sorrow, tears, anguish, intimate knowledge, poverty, humility and gratitudeI' are but some of the expressions of the authentic; and we could do the same for expressions of the inauthentic. Making a list is a good way to begin because it directs us to the text with a simple and specific objective: how does the spirituality express what it values and what it rejects? An exhaustive 9 "I would rather feel compunction of heart for my sins than merely know the definition of com-punction," Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, edited with an introduction by Harold C. Gardiner (Image, 1955), Book I, chapter 1. ,o The Cloud of Unknowing, by an anonymous fourteenth-century Englishman, edited and in-troduced by William Johnston (Image, 1973), chapter vii. , '~ Ignatius Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, translation by Louis J. Puhl (Newman, 1954). Shame and confusion, sorrow, tears and anguish are from the First Exercise of the First Week, #48; intimate knowledge of Christ is from the First Comtemplation of the Second Week, #104; poverty and humility are from the Two Standards, #147; and gratitude isffrom the Contemplation to Attain the Love of God, #233. 8'/Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 list is rarely possible or even desirable, but we do want to be certain that we ini-tiate our analysis by carefully gathering all of the pertinent expressions. A list gives us the concrete expressions from which to work, but it is too one-dimensional to be of more than limited value. By itself a list cannot single out those expressions which are of special importance, nor can it fit them into a pattern of meaning. What we lack is an organiz.ing form'2 which could give the expressions depth and a relationship to one another. In the SpiritualExer-cises an excellent illustration of such a form is the image of the Two Stand-ards: the Kingdom of Christ verstis the Kingdom of SatanI' ~ The Kingdom of Christ gives depth and relationship to t.he expressions of the authentic while the Kingdom of Satan does the ~ame for the inauthentic. Intimate knowledge, poverty, humility, gratitude and the like contribute definite nuances to the understanding of the nature of these two kingdoms; and the expressions, in turn, receive their full meaning only in relationship to the complete image. The Two Standards are the unifying image for expressions in Ignatian spirituality. While Ignatius himself gives the organizing form of the Two Standards, it is often necessary to uncover a form which is not itself one of the particular images used in a given text. Such would be thecase in the Life'ofAntony by Athanasius. ~4 Clearly the text does not lack for images, but the best organizing form is rather the structure which Athanasius employs to develop his story: a series of four withdrawals by Antony, each one into greater solitude. The authgr uses these withdrawals to highlight periods of development in Antony's life, and each period unifies a corresponding set of expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic. In the first withdrawal Antony left his home to li~,e on the outskirts of the village with an older ascetic. The expressions of the authentig and the inauthentic are characteristic of a "novitiate" period: zeal, faith, desire for purity of heart, imitation 6f the older ascetic were set in opposition to anxiety over f~mily, money, fame, difficulties of asceticism and sexuality. In the second withdrawal, closing himself into a tomb,, the chief ex- '~ The identification of basic units (expr~essions of the authentic and the inauthentic) and the discovery of the forms by which these expressions are related have a slight resemblance to struc-turalism. However, a double caution is in order. In i!s extreme sense structuralism can become an ideology in which all we can know about a system are its basic units and their associations; further meaning would be denied. In a less ideological sense structuralism is a method of inquiry which can be more friendly to theology and spirituality, but even here--as the term can be 'very am-biguous- l wish to make clear that my own use is limited to exactly what has been described in the text. '~ Spiritual Exercises, #13~,- 148. ~' St. Athanasius, Patriarch of Alexandria, was probably the author of the Life ofA ntony shortly after the hermit's death in 356. Antony represented a prototype .for the desert fathers, and, whatever the historical accuracy of the Life, it c~ertainly had a profound influence" on desert spiritqality. This important work is once again available in English: Athanasius: The Life of St. AntOny and the Letter to Marcellinius, translation and introduction by Robert C. Gregg, preface~ by William A. CIcbsh (Paulist, 1980~ Study of Spirituality p~'essions of the inauthentic are wild imaginings, terror and the temptation to flight, while defiance of the demons, perseverance and faith are expressio ~ns of the authentic. From the tomb Antony went to live in an abandoned fort in the desert where he was besieged by the demons. A hint of weariness from the clamor of the demons is the only expression of the inauthentic while expres-sions of the authentic reflect Antony's growing strength: confidence, utter equilibrium, purity of soul, and so forth. Antony's final withdrawal was to the "inner mountain" which is described in paradisal terms. The expression of the inauthentic most characteristic of this period is pride in the power God has given him; while the expressions of the authentic are the manifestations of the power of the Spirit working through Antony: overpowering the demons, curing the sick, instructing the monks and confiz lnding the heretics.~ It is not always possibly to find a single form o of material together. One rather difficult text is tt fine analysis of this spiritual classic, Bernard SI truths which they [the four books of the Imitati~ ranged according to a precise play, a rational s~ dialectic."~6 Much of the difficulty is due to the sl of thoughts useful to the spiritual life, possibly There is a variety of equal themes, and so no sine could give unity to all the expressions. The most o is to discover, or invent, several forms which toge into useful patterns. As a corollary to the organizing forms we can i of the authentic and the inauthentic for stages of s life is a type of growth but in many well-devei specified stages,'7 and the key for detecting thesl sions of the authentic and the inauthentic. When ~ authentic becomes an expression of the inauthen growth has been crossed. An example of this ha~ i the Cloud of Unknowing: meditation on Christi! the authentic for the beginner but just the oppt vanced in the spirit of contemplation. Sometimes 'image which will tie a body Imitation of Christ. In his ~aapen has noted that "the n] enfold have not been ar-ructure, or a psychological yle of the work: a collection by more than one author. le form can be found which ne can do in such a situation ther best gather the material dso examine the expressions !iritual growth. All spiritual 9ed spiritualities there are ~ stages lies with the expres-particular expression of the tic, then a stage of spiritual dready been furnished from passion is an expression of ~site for someone more ad-the stages of growth will be '~ The four journeys: leaving his home to live on the outskirts of a village (Life of Antony, c. 4); living in the tomb (Ibid, c. 8); from tl~e tomb to the abandoned fort (Ibid, cc. 11-12); and the withdrawal to the inner mountain (Ibid, cc. 49-51). ,6 Bernard Spaapen, "A New Look at an Old Classic," from Imitating Christ, E. Malatesta, editor, Religious Experience Series, vol. 5 (Abbey Press, 1974). This work is a translation from the French Dictionary of Spirituality. " Frequently a spirituality will describe the break between an unreflective Christian life and the desire to lead a more spiritual life. Another break occurs later when the Christian leaves the period characterized by struggle and "spiritual achievement" and moves more into a climate of sur-render and "spiritual giftedness." The classical distinctions have been the three ways: purgative, illuminative, and unitive. 10 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 the structure giving unity to the material, but this will not always be the case. The second question for analysis comes from the idea of personal growth. A ~pirituality which reaches the state of expression does not appear out of the vacuum, but it is the maturation of much personal experience. One or many have traveled a similar dialectical journey from the inauthentic to the authen-tic and from this experience comes a wealth of valuable insight. This insight, which embodies both the techniques and the lived experience of the journey, can be called wisdom, and it is the ob)ect of the second question: what is the wisdom of a particular spirituality? To discover the wisdom of'a particular spirituality we must look at its teaching. In what special manner does a spirituality propbse.to find God, and what experience flows from its techniques of encounter? In the Life of Antony, for example, wisdom comes especially from the experience of solitude, x~hich for the desert fathers meant struggle with demons representing every imaginable thought or feeling. The wisdom of the Life of Antony is expressed in a long speech by the hermit to a group of other hermits assembled for the occasion.'8 This speech, often called a speech on discernment, is a description of what to expect in solitude and how to deal with whatever (or whomever) occurred. The wisdom of the desert employs some of the most colorful and varied imagery in the history of spirituality, but it is always characterized by the detection and diminishment of interior turmoil in order to find and preserve apatheia.'9 A very different example, though with striking parallels, is fouhd in the wisdom of St. Ignatius. The Spiritual Exercises express wisd6m not in speeches but in appendices: rules for thinking with the Church, rules for eating, rules for discernment, and so on. Ignatian wisdom, however, is not contained equally in all these rules but in one special and famous set: the rules for the discernment of spirits.2° As mentioned above, the primary image of lgnatian spirituality is the Two Standards, and the go~.l is to serve with Christ who wishes to spread his Kingdom and defeat the Kingdom of Satan. Now these kingdoms will enjoy victory or suffer defe~t as a result of our particular choices. However, the kingdoms are distinguished from each other less by the ,8 Life of Antony, cc. 16-43. ,9 Apatheia was the ascetical goal of the desert fathers. It was not apathy but rather a state of in-terior calm and recollection. Athanasius described this state in the Life of Anthony: "The state of his soul was one of purity, for it was not cpnstricted by grief, nor relaxed by pleasure, nor affected by either laughter or dejection. Moreover, when he saw th'e crowd, he was not annoyed any more than he was elated at being embraced by so many people. He maintained utter equilibrium, like one guided by reason and steadfast in that which accords with nature" (c. 14). Perhaps the best summary of desert wisdom is contained in the writings of Evagrius Ponticus (d. 399), especially in his Praktikos. This has been translated together with Chapters on Prayer and published as Praktikos: Chapters on Prayer translated and edited by John Eudes Bamberger, O.C.S.O. (Cistercian Publication, 1970). ~o Spiritual Excercises, #313-336. Study of Spirituality object of a particular choice than by attitudes. Consequently, the disciple of Christ must differentiate between objects of possible choice according to authenticating.feelings (attitudes) or their opposites. The rules for the discern-ment of spirits, are Ignatius' wisdom for making this all important differentia-tion and decision. There is no need to multiply examples. Wisdom gets at the heart of a particular spirituality because it taps the special experience of the person or persons who have lived it. Often referred to "thoughts" in describing the struggle of solitude and to apatheia as the goal of that struggle. For Ignatius, the key word would be discernment. On the other hand, there need not be but one wisdom for every spirituality. Moving beyond the Spiritual Exercises one could speak also of a wisdom of obedience in Ignatius. The 0b)ective~is to identify the central insights of a spirituality; insights, however, that flow from matured experience. Finally, we.should underline the fact that questions for analysis--expres-sions and wisdom--are effective for focusing and organizing the material, but they certainly do not exhaust its riches. In addition to the fact that no set of questions can ever draw everything from the material, a spirituality will always retain a certain opacity regardless of how carefully it is scrutinized; ~and we will always find ourselx~es returning to the source for clarification, new insight, and personal edification. However, at some point in time we must determine that an analysis is finished, both in the number of questions asked and in the depth of the answers. It is the suggestion of this article that the two questions given above will focus and organize the material sufficiently to enable us to turn to the wider arena of comparison and contrast of different spiritualities. Questions for Comparison and Contrast Bernard Lonergan has described method as"a normative pattern of recur-rent and related operations yielding cumulative and progressive results.''2' What we have thus far isnot a complete method but its foundation. Questions for analysis provide a normative pattern of operat!ons which can be applied to. any number of particular spiritualities, but only continued application fol-lowed by comparison and contrast will yield cumulative and progressive results. Now the general matter for any comparison and contrast would normally be the exprbssions of the authentic and the inauthentic, the images and forms which give them unity, and the expressions of wisdom. From this one could proceed in any number of ways depending only on time, interest, and avail-ability of sources. Let us suppose, for example, that someone was interested in the general topic of prayer and that he or she had some familiarity with both 2, Lonergan, Method, p. 4. 12 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 the Cloud of Unknowing and the works of John of the Cross. Even an exami-nation'of the titles would reveal that "cloud" and "night" are expressions of the authentic for both. A study of the similarities and differences between the Cloud's understanding of "cloud" and John of the Cross's understanding of "night" might prove to be a straightforward and interesting investigation into the meaning of apophatic prayer.2' Ordinarily the work of comparison and contrast will draw heavily on our ability to understand the relative hist6rical-cultural contexts. This can be given some direction, however, if we keep in mind two principles for compari-son. The first is that a spirituality cannot help but reflect certain cosmological perspectives. As a result we should always ask: what understandings of space and time shape the relationship between self, world, and God for a particular spirituality? For example, the Life of Antony used a simple cosmological framework which placed a person on top of the world but under two concen-tric hemispheres: the air, which was the abode of the demons, and the sky, which was heaven and the abode of God. Thus, to go to God one had to leave the world and ascend through the air, and this meant battles with the demons. Today we experience ourselves through a cosmology which is couched in evolutionary and psychological terms. Instead of place, time is the important parameter: it is no longer "up" and "down" which correspond to the authen-tic and the inauthentic but "transformation" and "regression." The discovery and investigations of the unconscious have forged a new vocabulary for our descriptions of evil, human growth, and the nature of freedom. The unconscious has also given us a new locus for expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic. The cosmology of the day--be it Antony's, our own, or any other--will not only shape the expressions of spirituality but it will also locate those expressions in accordance with its perception of the relationship in time and space of self, world, and God. ~: The cosmological questions can be made specific. The question, "'Where is Christ?" yields interesting resolts when asked of St. Basil the Great (fourth century) and St. Ignatius (sixteenth century). Each has a passage about Christ the King and his call to men and women to follow him, but note the different images for describing where Christ is and the practical consequences for discipleship. For Basil: "Where is Christ the King? In heaven, to be sure. Thither it behooves you, soldier of Christ, to direct your course. Forget all earthly delights.''23 Ignatius, however, perceived the world as friendlier potential for the self's encounter with God: "Consider Christ our Lord, standing in a lowly place in a great plain about the region of Jerusalem . ,,2, And instead of forgetting the world in order to go to Christ in heaven, Ignatius See note 28 below. Basil, "An Introduction to the Ascetical Life," From St. Basic, Ascetical Works, TheFathers of The Church vol. 9, translated by Sister M. Monica Wagner, C.S.C. (New York, 1950), p. 9. Spiritual Exercises, #144. ¯ Study of Spirituafity / 13 encourages people to follow a Christ who "sends them throughout the whole world to spread his sacred doctrine among all men, no matter what their state or condition.''25 We can do similar comparisons for time. "'When will Christ come?" For St. Paul and the early Christians the answer was, "Soon!" But for most of the Church's history until recently, the question of time hasn't been that impor-tant. Most Christians tended to regard the world as having a certain timeless stability. The important time was not Christ's coming in glory but the individ-ual's meeting with Christ at death. Today, however, an evolutionary con-sciousness has made time very important. When will Christ come for someone imbued with the vision of Teilhard de Chardin? He will come when the human race, now responsible for cooperating in its own evolution, will have (with God's grace) brought about the kingdom. Statements about time and place are not theological statements; they are descriptions of world views. The location of a spirituality within its particular cosmological framework makes possible the comparison and contrast of similar expressions which come from widely different historical-cultural con-texts. It would be far beyond the scope of this article to attempt to outline the world views which have shaped and been shaped by western thought, but it is worth mentioning here two books which are particularly insightful: Romano Guardini's The End of the Modern World and John Dunne's A Search for God in Time andMemory.~6 Guardini has mapped out four cosmologies fun-damental to the history of western thought: classical, medieval, modern, and post-modern. If we take into account that much has occurred which might further clarify his analysis of the present (post-modern) period, this work is very useful. Dunne has given the study of world views an interesting refine-ment by pointing to the different~ ways in which autobiographies have been written: a story of deeds (classical), a gamut of experience (Augustine), a lad-der of experience (medieval), and a story of appropriation (modern and con-temporary). This does not do justice to the nuances given by Dunne, but the distinctions he introduces are invaluable for appreciating the genres under which spiritual growth has been described. A second principle for comparison and contrast is that there exist specifi-cally different, yet equally valid, spiritualities within the Church. In other words, spiritualities differ not only because of various historical-cultural backgrounds, but they also differ according to type. Of course, a rigid and exclusive classification would be impossible and undesirable, but the varied emphases of many spiritualities suggest that we might discover several models which would help us to better understand similarities and differences. ~ lbid, #145. 2~ John Dunne, A Search for God in Time and Memory (Macmillian, 1967). Romano Guardini, The End of the Modern World, edited with an introduction by Frederick D. Wilhelmsen, translated by Joseph Theman and Herbert Burke (Sheed and Ward, 1956). "14 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 To develop models it Js necessary to select criteria for differentiation. This selection, always arbitrary, establishes the parameters by which the models are distinguished. Here the criteria will be "attitudes" toward two potential loci for expressions of the authentic: the world--including human society and institution--and history--especially change and conversion. We can deter-mine the models by asking this question: does a spirituality view the world and/or history as a positive locus for expressions of the authentic?2' If a spirituality is not positive toward either we will call it apophatic; if it is positive toward both we will call it apostolic; if it is positive toward the world but not toward history we will call it city-ofrGod; and if it is positive toward history but not toward the world we will call it prophetic. At one extreme, answering "no" to both the world and to history, are the apophatic'8 spiritualities. These are the mystical spiritualities known to us today primarily through the Cloud of Unknowing, John of the Cross, and Thomas Merton. For an apophatic spirituality, the chief expression of the authentic is negation of the specific image: one goes toGod through unknow-ing or through darkness. It should be stressed, however, that the apophatic spiritualities do not necessarily hold that the world is evil or that history is meaningless; one need only think of the concern and involvement of Thomas Merton. The apophatic spiritualities emphasize a wisdom of contemplation through negation, and the goal of that contemplation is the love and knowledge of God. A curiosity of apophatic prayer is that its central insight-negation- should never be practiced by a beginner. Both the Cloud and John of the Cross counsel that apophatic prayer is not for everyone, that beginners should definitely rely on the media.ting image, and that there are signs by which one can know if he or she is called to this form of prayer.'9 At the other extreme, answering "yes" to both world and history, are the apostolic spiritualities. An apostolic spirituality views the world and history as a locus for self-transformation, Its expressions can vary greatly. Ignatius was concerned with "the defense and propagation of the faith and the progress of souls.''3° For Ignatius holiness was found through an involvement with the 27 The idea for this came to me from reading John Macquarrie, Christian Hope (Seabury, 1978). In a s~ction called, "A Typology of Interpretations" (pp.86-88), Macquarrie works out four types of Christian hope: individual vs. social, this-worldly vs. other-worldly expectations, evolutionary vs. revolutionary, and realized vs. future. 2a Apophatic: in speaking of God one can either affirm certain truths (kataphatic theology) or, realizing that God is beyond any conceptualization, one can speak o'f him by negation (apophatic theology). The apophatic mystics are those whose way the the way of unknowing. This can be found to a high degree in many mystical writers, and the chief source for ~their apophatic vocabulary is the work of a mysterious Syrian monk of the t:ifth or sixth century who has been known through the ages as Dionysius the Areopagite or pseudo-Dionysius. 29 Cloud of Unknowing, c. 75. John of the Cross~ Ascent of Mount Carmel, translated, edited, and introduced by E. Allison Peers (Image, 1958) Book I1, c. xiii, pp. 219-223. ~0 Ignatius Loyola, The Formula of the Institute, as contained in the papal bull, Exposcit debitum Study of Spirituality world in an attempt to spread the kingdom. Ignatius' successor, Father Pedro Arrupe, wants "the conversion of the individual" but he also wants to "transform the world into a fit habitation for justice and humanity.''3' It is important to distinguish apostolic work from apostolic spirituality as that model is being described here. Everyone is called in some way to the apostolate, but not everyone seeks God primarily through involvement with the world and the transformation of its history. When a particular spirituality adopts the vocabulary of involvement and transformation in its expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic and in its statement of wisdom, then it exem-plifies the essential marks of the apostolic model. A city-of-Godspirituality, saying "yes" to the world and "no" to history, is characterized by the location of expressions of the authentic in one special place in the world to the exclusion of others. This place, which then becomes a reflection of the kingdom of God, could be a monastery, the home, or even the individual human heart. St. Benedict summarized his wisdom in the form of a Rule: how to live the kingdom together in the monastery. The Imitation of Christ counsels flight to the safety of our own hearts where "you will see the kingdom of God come into your soul.''32 A city-of-God spirituality has probably been the norm for most Christians throughout history, and it is also a characteristic of every other type of spirituality, even if not the primary one. Whenever we focus on a particular community or on our own heart we are highlighting the city-of-God dimension of our spiritual lives, The prophetic spirituality finds expressions of the authentic in .history but not in the world. The Old Testament prophet offered interpretations of history as well as judgments. The radical poverty of St. Francis of Assisi was a judgment of the abuse of material wealth and it was a sign of hope in a God who would fulfill all promises. Prophetic spirituality is often characterized.by living one or more of the gospel values to an extreme: Francis and poverty, the virgins and ascetics living a life of celibacy while awaiting martyrdom in the early Church, or the gospel-motivated civil disobedience in our own times. While prophetic spirituality often contains the dimension of a "challenge" it certainly need not be a gloomy spirituality--as witnessed by the joy of St. Francis. Once again, we must not adhere to these models too rigorously. The ex-amples given above illustrated the tendencies of their respective models to a marked degree; but most spiritualities, includ!ng those mentioned, are mix-of July 21, 1550. Translation from Th~ Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, translated and edited by George Ganss (Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 66. ~ Pedro Arrupe, "The Challenge of the World and the Mission of the Society," opening address to the Thirty-Second General Congregation of the Society of Jesus. Published in .4 Planet to Heal translated with notes by John Harriott (Ignatian Center of Spirituality, Rome, 1975), p. 312. ~ Imitation of Christ, Book 11, c. 1. 16 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 tures of all four, with perhaps one or more predominating. With this caution. in mind we could make use of the models to organize and clarify the dif-ferences and similarities we observe among the various spiritualities. For ex-ample, both Ignatius of Loyola and John of the Cross were sixteenth-century Spanish saints who shared the same geography and culture. The spiritualities of both these men are familiar enough to us that we would not be surprised to find a number of significant differences in spite of similar backgrounds. We know that consolation is an important part of the spirituality of Ignatius: it is an expression of the authentic, something to be sought in prayer. For John of the Cross, on the other hand, consolation in prayer was often a sign of the in-authentic: the contemplative advancing in prayer should neither seek consola-tion nor trust it when it came.~3 This apparent contradiction is resolved when we remember that we are dealing with two very different models of spiritual-ity. John, the apophatic mystic who shuns specific images so as to approach God in the "night," is consistent within his model when he rejects consola-tions. Ignatius, the apostolic man who finds God in the world through specific choices, is consistent in asking to have these choices confirmed through con-solation. Apophatic and apostolic are different paths of spiritual growth. Towards Evaluation Ultimately evaluation is the responsibility of the Church, and over the cen-turies she has generally given a wide latitude to the expressions claiming to be of the Spirit. As long as a spirituality refrained from making its charism nor-mative for all Christians, maintained a balanced view of theology and human nature, and did not habitually defy the directions of the hierarchy, the Church has been at least tolerant if not actively supportive. Ronaid Knox has catalogued a number of exotic spiritual movements beginning with the Corin-thian community, and his very thorough work is an encyclopedia of spiritual aberrations together with the appropriate judgment of the Church.3' Negative criteria are much easier to establish than positive, and the records of the Holy Office detail specific distortions to be avoided rather than positive principles on which to build. But, then, most great spiritual leaders did not consult the Vatican archives in order to construct a charism; they responded to the work of the Spirit and left the editing to others. Nonetheless~ it is possible to point out three indicators of a good spirituality: good theology, good sense, and good results. Good spirituality must flow out of the Christian communi-ty's understanding of the gospel and hence must exhibit good theology. Spirituality is a human movement, and so good spirituality should reflect a keen sensitivity to the human condition--good sense. Finally, a good spirituality will produce good results because it will be the work of the Holy Spirit-- "Whoever remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty" (Jn 15:5). John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, Book II, cc. 4, 7. Ronald Knox, Enthusiasm (Oxford University Press, 1961). Study of Spirituality / 17 Good theology and good sense are not abstract principles which can be ap-plied unerringly to any new situation. In most cases they are the culmination of a long process of give and take between the Church and the proponents of a new spirituality. On the one side there must be an increasingly sympathetic understanding of the expressions of the new spirituality; on the other, there must be a growing clarification of the meanings of those expressions. Let us take St. Francis of Assisi and the Franciscans as an example. The cry for the vita apostolica--a return to the life of the gospels in penance, poverty, and preaching--did not appear suddenly in 1206 when Francis over-came his fear of leprosy. The twelfth century had already witnessed a large nu.mber of spiritual movements toward the vita apostolica, and many of these movements were in tension with the Church. A change in the socio-economic climate, the abuses of wealth especially among the clergy, and the Church's own reforms of the eleventh century had brought about a hunger for new ways of expressing the spiritual aspirations of those who did not feel called to the cloistered life of the monastery. The Cathars,3~ the Humiliati,~6 and the Waldensians~' were some of the better known movements which answered to this hunger. Almost inevitably there was resistance from the official Church. If we leave aside misunderstandings and personal animosities, this resistance was usually on theological and pastoral grounds. Theologically, the new movements presented opinions ranging from the outright dualism of the Cathars tothe denial of the validity of a sacrament administered by a corrupt priest. Such theological opinions, which touched the sacramental nature of the Church, could not be tolerated. Pastorally, the issue was normally over the right to preach. Did a person who took the gospel seriously and lived poorly have the right to preach without the permission of the local clergy or bishops? Both the Waldensians and the Humiliati approached Rome for approval but were rebuffed on the question of preaching. No one denied the need for greater poverty, and the pope himself called ~' The Cathars, also known as Albigensians, were especially active in southern France from the middle of the twelfth century. They were virtually a distinct religion with their own organization of dioceses. Theologically they were influenced by the Bogomils of Bulgaria whose theology can be traced back to a Manichean dualism. ~6 The Waldensians were an evangelical movement founded by Valdes, a merchant from Lyons~ They attempted to remain orthodox but were forbidden to preach at the time of the Third Lateran Council (I 179). ~' The Humiliati appeared in northern Italy during the second part of the twelfth century. They were forbidden to preach in 1179 but were eventually reconciled to the Church by Innocent III in 1201. He gave them a threefold rule which regulated the men as canons regular, the women as religious, and a group of married people as a type of third order. For an interesting treatment of the dealings of Innocent Ill with the Humiliati see Brenda Bolton, "Innocent lll's Treatment of the Humiliati", from Popular Belief and Practice, edited by G.J. Cuming and Derek Baker (Cambridge University Press, 1972). 18 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 the bishops and clergy to task for their failure to preach the gospel;38 it was a c/uestion of finding the right form. What took place in the twelfth century was a twofold development whereby the new expressions of spirituality were being clarified against the theological-pastoral demands of the Church; and the Church was learning to listen with more sympathy to the different spiritual needs of her people. By the end of the century the time was ripe for Francis and Dominic. Of course, the phenomenon of St. Francis was not just the inevitable out-come of an historical development. It was also the special work of God's grace in a man who was both generous enough to respond to the call for a life of radical poverty and humble enough to listen to the voice of the Church. Nonetheless, that long century of development points to the kind of prepara-tion and hard work out of which true spiritual insight is born. Nor did Innocent lII's approval of Francis in 1209 complete the process. As numbers increased problems did also. Good sense and a sound understanding of human nature called for certain modifications. More structure and organiza-tion were needed which could channel the charism without destroying it. Pro-vinces were established, local houses and superiors appointed and a year's novitiate was required.39 If we shift back into our own century we realize that the Church is con-stantly faced with new expressions of spirituality arising from the legitimate aspirations of a people hungering for God. These new movements need ~to be examined in the light of good theology and good sense, and they need to receive the sympathetic understanding of the Church. A serious study of spirituality can make a genuine contribution to this endeavor. First of all, a new spirituality needs to identify, and then clarify its expres-sions. This is the work of analysis described earlier. What are the expressions of the authentic and the inauthentic and the forms which organize them? What is its wisdom? Only after these questions are carefully answered does theological evaluation become possible. When we know the expressions of the spirituality and their relationship to one another, then we know its theological stance and we can judge it. The analysis will also reveal the spirituality's perspective on human nature, its understanding of the human condition. While great care must be exercised here, it would violate good sense to have a ,8 In his treatment of the twelfth century, M.-D. Chenu wrote: "Peter the Chanter had denounced the 'most dreadful silence' (pessima taciturnitas) of the clergy, and both Peter and Innocent Ill had invoked a phrase from Isaiah (56:10) to repudiate "these muted dogs who don't have it in them to bark," M.-D. Chenu, Nature, Man, and Society in the Twelfth Century." Essays on New Theological Perspectives in the Latin West, selected, edited, and translated by Jerome Taylor and Lester L. Little. preface by I~tienne Gilson. (University of Chicago Press, 1968), p. 244. ~9 For a discussion of these developments, see Cajetan Esser, Origins of the Franciscan Order, translated by Aedan Daly, O.F.M: and Dr. lrina Lynch (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1970); see especially Chapter Ill: "First Crises and Attempts to Overcome Them." Study of Spirituality / 19 spirituality which proved to be psychologically destructive. It has unfor-tunately happened in the history of spirituality that "leaving the world" has become an occasion for hatred and destruction of the self or the body rather than a love for God?° Finally, analysis of a new spirituality will reveal its in-ternal coherence or lack thereof. This is important because personal growth demands a certain degree of unity of purpose and technique, and a spirituality which seems to move in many different directions at the same time will only provoke confusion and frustration. While this may appear to be obvious, it is not always so easy to recognize. For example, a spirituality expressed entirely in a nineteenth-century idiom might exhibit good theology and good psychology, but unless it is able to translate itself coherently into the language and forms of the twentieth century there will always be an unnecessary tension from trying to operate in a world view, a cosmology, which is no longer our own. This was one of the reasons for Vatican II's call for adaptation in religious life. In addition, a new spirituality needs to be understood externally, and this is the work of comparison and contrast. From the Church's standpoint, evaluation will be enhanced wfien a spirituality is known in relation to other spiritualities both past and present. This much goes without saying~ But such an external understanding'can also be quite useful for the spirituality itself. One of the habitual dangers for a new movement is to see itself as being unique in respo ~nding to the call of the gospels. Time and time again this has resulted in sectarianism and heresy. When a spirituality understands itself in the con-text of.history it will be better able to appreciate its uniqueness without overestimating its importance. 40 An extreme example of this might be found in the Cathars who practiced (though rarelY,) a form of suicide by starvation called endura. This occurred only after the reception of the consolamen-turn which was a conbination of baptism and Eucharist. Once the believer received the con'- solarnentum he or she was to live without any sin whatsoever. It was in fear of a relapse that some chose to end their lives as soon after consolsmentum as possible. The Treasurer As Professional Paschal Phillips, O.C.S.O. Father Phillips is a member of the monastery of Our Lady of Guadalupe Trappist Abbey; Lafayette, OR 97127. Ulnder the bland title of this article lurks a contentious thesis. I hope to demonstrate that the function of the provincial treasurer is a specialized, pro-fessional calling, importantly distinct from related professions such as accounting or management, but every bit as clearly definable and of crucial importance to religious communities. The practical issue of all this appears in the damage done through failure to recognize or effectively utilize this unique function, and the concomitant misjudgments concerning training, qualification, and role recognition. Problems of Definition At the outset, the multiplicity of terms presents a hurdle with symbolic overtones. Titles such as "procurator" "econome" "cellarer" "fiscus" and "minister" vie with more commonplace old standbys like "treasurer" and "business manager" in vague but roughly interchangeable usage. The fact that such nebulous nomenclature has continued points to a lack of reflection on the common nature of the office underlying the multiple titles. Admittedly the office, which we shall for simplicity's sake henceforth call "treasurer," does admit of multiple definitions, since it changes not only from congregation to congregation, but, even more radically, with the person-alities of the incumbent and of the major superior served by the incumbent. In fact, it is usually easier to note major differences in the function which ensue from each provincial election than it is to discover a consistent pattern of divergence between the "economes" of congregation X and the "proc-urators" of congregation Y. 2O The Treasurer as Professional / 21 Besides, any congregation is free to define the duties of its various officers without having to make special reference to neat patterns convenient to the writers of magazine articles. It might follow that analyzing the functions of a treasurer is spreading nets to catch the wind, and that the function--if indeed there is a function at all--is characterized mostly by its lack of fixed form, for its utility lies largely in adapting to present circumstances and local custom. This is certainly true so far as peripheral duties such as bookkeeping go. But, under all the pluralism, a hard core of significance remains that may reward further reflection. The Core Function We live in a world of professionalism. Our first thought, in any need, is to call in a specialist. But routine can create problems. We are so used to calling in an "ologist,"'or training a member of the community to become one (which amounts to the same thing) that we hardly notice, much less reflect upon, the rather delicate set of questions that ought to proceed the call: Do we need help? Is this area important? Wti6m shall we consult? How Will the answers we get be conveyed to the community and its superiors? How will they be adapted to our needs? And how will we know that the answers have been accurately grasped, and emotionally accepted? The core-function of the provincial treasurer appears to be discovered through asking questions such as those, and providing some approaches to the answers. The function might be defined as liaison between the religious pur-pose of the community, and "the world" as organizational (business, legal, financial aspects). An example may clarify. Take the question of accounting: in many a congregation, any sentence which connects the words "treasurer" and "professional" automatically elicits the image of technical accountant. After all, the thinking goes, do we not carefully train teachers and cooks, pro-vincials and novice masters? So send the treasurer off to the university, and turn him or her into a C.P.A.! But there's the rub! We may have trained a C.P.A. who can perform a useful function-- but we have not trained a treasurer. This is not to deny that technical accounting abilities are one of the building blocks, but it does sug-gest that one building block does not make a whole structure. Reconstruct the scene from, that unfamiliar vantage point which defines the treasurer as the person who provides the liaison between the religious com-munity as religious and "the world" as organization. Obviously, accounting expertise is essential to understand and analyze much of what the organiza-tional world has to say to the religious, as it is also essential to translate some of the organizational and support problems of the community into a concise form that can be understood by speakers of "business-ese." But to stop at that point sets the stage for a familiar scenario: a treasurer who conceives his entire function to be that of expert in accounting (and he exists in a milieu where the tacit assumptions all reenforce this point of view), produces ever 22 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 more sophisticated and technically accurate quarterly reports, and submits them in all their complexity to a superior and council whose ability to under-stand them is no more sophisticated than it ever was. In practice the community ends with some poorly conceived mixture of ad hoc remedies. For example, the superior himself burns the midnight oil, hoping to assimilate the skills which enable business executives to glean their impressive insights from such corporate accounts. What has happened is that the already overburdened superior has taken on what is actually the core role of the treasurer. He is attempting to interpret to himself what the business world is saying, and the results are not always happy. The major superior has no time, really, to handle this added, and usually unwelcome chore. Neither does the training nor the personality traits which qualify a good religious superior easily blend well with the demands of business administration. Fur-ther, the superior is there~by subtly insulated from one key source of counsel, and this in an ominous way, since the change is scarcely noticed. Another common reaction of sophisticated reporting to .an unsophisti-cated audience is one of bland beffiddlement. An increasing percentage of council and community simply announce that they have no time for that sort of thing. They are sure that"such i~pressive figures must mean something, and "it is so comforting to realize that we can depend on such a skilled and dedicated treasurer." This remedy: so called, operates in the reverse of the one before. Now it is the treasurer who is isolated from needed feedback and in-telligent questioning, and the treasurer slowly begins to make decisions (or, more commonly, subconsciously to set things up so that only one decision can be made) which should have involved the superior's informed judgment from the start. The misunderstandings and confusions which result, and which so often are blamed on instincts for power or on exaggerated professionalism, are at root only the natural concomitants of poor role-definition. The above examples are painted in bold strokes. In practice any trained treasurer makes a more or less intelligent effort to translate the economic trends revealed by the analysis of the community books and by a general familiarity with the business cycle (changes of interest rates, increasing cost of government, red tape, inflation), and in those cases where this function is handled with skill and sensitivity, there is no doubt that the treasurer's office is being well served by its present incumbent. However, the main point is precisely that a function so delicate and so important should not be performed in a fit of absentmindedness. Few realize that there is the exact point where unreflective instincts, presenting a hastily conceived adaptation of the secular counterpart found in stockholders reports, as unverified assumption that "they" got the message, in short, amateurism, can effectively negate the benefits arising from professional accounting, skilled business analysis, and all the rest. The Treasurer as Professional / 23 Title and Function It should be apparent that one of our problems stems from the very title "treasurer," with its built-in connotation of "bookkeeper." Things are slightly better in more ancient Orders where the person filling this liaison role is called by some more generic title such as "procurator," but the basic prob-lem of role-definition usually remains unexamined. It is entirely possible that the "core function" we have been elaborating could be performed by someone other than the titular treasurer. Indeed, one of the problems is precisely that such is often the case, that, for lack of reflec-tion on the situation, this crucial liaison function is poorly performed by per-sons who scarcely realize they are even involved in such a role. Take, for example, these instances where some dedicated lay person now holds the office of provincial treasurer. There can be no question of these indi-viduals' technical skills, but, on the other hand, there can be little chance that they could ever deal with the community on the deep level of two-way com-munication that is needed to perform this liaison function. Yet someone must be performing that function--however imperfectly--or else the community would be left on the legendary "Cloud 9," a not unknown circumstance, sad to relate. Whoever that "someone" is, he or she is the de facto treasurer, while the holder of the titular office doubtless remains, skilled in his other profes-sion which is valid in itself but different in scope. Still, the very essence of the liaison function does d~mand an alert, in-formed, and up-to-date acquaintance with modern business and government trends. It is doubtful that any community officer except the treasurer would have the time, or even the inclination, to remain permanently qualified for the role. So if the titular treasurer is not the one functioning in the liaison role, our foregone conclusion is that sooner or later the function will be indifferently served. The essential connection between membership in the religious community and the liaison function is illumined more by practice than theory. At the risk of running one example to death we return to the quarterly accounting report. If the treasurer saw liaison as his or her primary function, the first question would still be "where can I hire a skilled .accounting technician to generate thoroughly reliable and professional figures?" Even the second question might be equally unsurprising: "Have I assured myself that I have the technical expertise to evaluate, accurately and professionally, the implications of the figures so presented?" (Already the field has broadened: the evaluation would, of necessity, include factors not strictly within the purview of an ac-countant.) It is the next step which becomes more demanding. "Exactly who are the real power-people and opinion-molders in the congregation, ~:egardless of title? And which items in this mass of data are the ones they need in order to make the decisions pertinent to th'eir role?" And, "Considering the individual personality, background training, and press of duties experienced by each such individual, what is the most effective way to present this data to him or 94 / Review for Religious, I/olume 40, 1981/1 her?" (These questions can lead to the elaboration of some very unorthodox but extremely effective financial reports!) /. It is a rare treasurer who sees the answer to the last two questions as so cen-tral as to demand more skill, more time, more thought and, if available, more training than the elaboration of the figures themselves. It is a rare community which would not be enriched and facilitated if the treasurer did just that. But it also seems next to impossible that any outsider, no matter how sagacious or trusted, could really have the indispensable in-depth understanding of the per-sonality limitations, the real power distribution (as distinguished from a table of organization), and the sundry lapses in hearing skills which form the living matrix of intramural communications. Perhaps fortunately, the liaison function is not usually looked upon as at-tached to the highest echelons of power. Yet, it is all too easy for casual observers, who already have the treasurer pigeonholed in a relatively trivial technician's role, to see any such outreach into the one indispensable function as an intrusion on the role of the superior. Such a reaction, though, is more concerned with shadow than substance: the very essence of the liaison function is to assist, not supplant, the superior in making informed decisions, and to assist, not supplant, the community in understanding the options open to them. Areas of Practical Concern The many excellent circulars on taxes, social security and related subjects coming from the offices of CMSM and LCWR provide opportunity for a quick, but necessarily very rough, check-up. These documents certainly sug-gest impending changes in life-style, deteriorating legal immunities, new norms of economic security and other important long-term adjustments of our community lives. Are these coming changes being considered in advance in every community? Do the CMSM circulars filter down at all? If not, perhaps the liaison function could improve to fill the void. Before noting more current problems, a somewhat dated example might provide historical insight. Between Leo XIII and circa 1970 there was a grow-ing rift between the papal social encyclicals and the employment policies of certain Catholic institutions. Areas of tension have run all the way from the areas of unionization through wages, pensions, and fringe benefits, to on-the-job working conditions. The business world of the United States had somehow tended to come more into line with the encyclicals than religious! Fortunately, this is largely water under the bridge; the majority of Catholic religious orders have recently shown an informed awareness of the problems of Christian employment, even in cases where lack of funds has made it very difficult to know how to respond. But it did take a long time, in some cases a scandalously long time. And the evident surprise which has overtaken more than one provincial administration when the "dear, dedicated lay-teachers" or the "sweet smiling nurses" hit the picket lines, would argue some degree of The Treasurer as Professional / 25 failure in their early-warning system. It is hard to imagine that the fumbling, uncertain--sometimes obscurant-ist- labor relations poli~ie~ ~l:iich charaCteriZed churchly institutions before 1970 would not have been improved if there had been in each congregation one person who was consciously aware of his or her duty to become fully in-formed concerning these trends, and to communicate them to a congregation which was itself aware of having appointed him to such a post-- and respected his function. In short, if each community had possessed a treasurer who was expected to perform the core-function of that office, and trained t.o do it, and if each such treasurer had been left enough time from routine mechanical ac-counting chores to function thus, the whole tale would have been quite dif-ferent. In the absence of that function filled, too often surprise and misinfor-mation proved a poor substitute for expertise at the bargaining table, and in the delicate reestablishment of truly Christian relationships afterward. Even though the labor relations example can be classified as historical in most communities (not all!), it still cannot be written off. For example, the presence of Douglas Frazier of the United Auto Workers on the Chrysler Cor-poration Board of Directors is no doubt just the tip of a large iceberg. Already in Europe workers' representatives on the top levels of management are a commonplace. Is anyone looking up from the accounting books long enough to start formulating a response, or thinking out alternatives, or evaluating present practices, or otherwise preparing for the day when the staff at Hospital A and High School B will be demanding board representation-- per-haps on the management level of the parent religious community itself? Insurance programs reveal another type of need. Too often "profes-sionalism" in the treasurer has been equivalated to the qualification requisite in some other profession simply because no one has noted that the liaison function is a separate profession in itself. We have already noted how this tends, in the accounting function, simply to distance the treasurer from the needs of the community superiors who are not businessmen and therefore can-not be reasonably expected to get maximum benefit from financial anal~,sis designed for business executives. In the related questions of insurance coverage, the problem takes a slightly different twist, although profes-sionalism (again the wrong profession!) here also ends up searching for the solutions that are most effective in the business world. In practice, we end by asking "How can we most expeditiously fit our community into insurance programs written for secular concerns?" The results are often ingenious and admirable examples of the professionalism of the insurance industry. But if someone in the communitY were professionally alert to the peculiar nature of a religious organization as such, he might well end up asking, "What are tl~e unique needs of this community, regardless of what fits the secular organization?" The answer may be quite surprising, and almost always results in unexpected savings and administrative simplification. Fortunately, the question is being asked more and more, and, as a result, some 26 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 specialized insurance policies are being written from the ground up to fit the unique needs of Catholic religious orders. But it should have happened sooner, and the questions should have been asked in many more quarters. Even today too many religious are paying insurance premiums for maternity benefits! The center-stage projects of the hour are probably energy conservation and socio-political activism via proxy voting and the like. Both problem areas carry implications of long-term and profound changes in community life-style. Both, too, are typical in their relations to the treasurer as professional. The current pattern of response is often enough characterized by aimless drift, unplanned, sporadic action, or responses evidently dominated by oen-thusiasts in the community who may or may not have a grasp of the long-run legal and economic implications. Since these areas do have overtones which are none of the treasurer's pro-fessional concern (although hopefully he or she will be deeply concerned as a committed Christian and religious), it follows that the treasurer should not be trying to direct the basic policy decisions in these affairs. But the complexity and multiple legal interlockings involved also suggest that someone--some one-- in each community has to be in a position to study the question from an overall point of view, and to do so with a trained expertise. Some individual must eventually take responsibility for gathering all available information and casting it ina form that alerts both officers and community to the implications for life-style, future economic security, hazards to legal immunities, and all the rest. Further, whereas ad hoc studies can be commendable, some one has gotto stick to the job and follow through, lest the community of 1985 be still acting on the circumstances of 1975. Both by a process of elimination and by logic, this important and irreplaceable function sooner or later (probably sooner) comes home to roost in the treasurer's office, If the incumbent is viewed as a mere technician who handles the computer printout, the community response will, in all probabil-ity," follow the too familiar pattern of muddling through very deep muddles. The rapid erosion of those tax exemptions which form.the practical economic basis of most religious communities provides another field of con-cern for the treasurer as professional liaison officer. Few communities have ever even done any daydreaming, much less planning, about the impact of various all,too-probable changes in the. tax laws. The tendency is to cling mutely and hopefully to the leaky ship. Thisis a wise procedure so faras day-to- day operations are concerned. But some one somewhere in the community should be monitoring, injecting caution into long-range plans, alerting superiors and community to the dangerous side effects of this or that policy, and noting, at least in passing, such unexamined drifts as the slow tendency of both tax courts and local officials to forget the tacit but once universal assumption that religious communities are families (for example: the recent The Treasurer as Professional / 27 tendency to raise zoning problems about sisters living together in a convent situated in a zone for single families; the erosion of the rights of superiors to make decisions for dying, unconscious, or elderly confused members of the community; difficulties with state officials who insist on nursing-home regulations instead of family rules for convents caring for a few elderly sisters, and so on. It is all of a pattern: we are being redefined as "strangers" -- and no one seems to notice). Unfortunately, the personality who gets maximum satisfaction out of the tidy details of bookkeeping is only rarely the same as the one who can perceive social or economic change from afar off. The rare exceptions are indeed pearls of great price. But the core-function is impossible, even for the pearls, if the only training they receive and the only role expectation they encounter are directed exclusively toward the routine of day-to-day administration. Conclusion In the twelfth chapter of Romans, St. Paul surprisingly lists "administra-tion" among the gifts of the Spirit. Indeed, he lists it just after prophecy and before teaching, preaching and almsgiving. It would be ridiculous to apply his thought literally to any specific church functionary, treasurers included--no doubt he had wider nets to spread. But Paul does thereby warn us not to trivialize the administrative functions in the Church into routine mechanics and technological computer-feeding. Faith, judgment, and spiritual insight are necessary, and the community which restricts its gifts of time, training, and trust to major superiors, novice masters, and theology faculties may be quenching the Spirit in a vital area of action. Reflection on the real core-function of the treasurer may lead in most cases not only to a deeper appreciation, of that office, but t9 some understanding of the damnable frustrations connected thereto. Hopefully such reflection could also lead to a major review of the qualifications for the office, along with adjustments in the organizational and psychological matrix which is required for its effective fulfillment. Admittedly there is no place where anyone can go for training in this most delicate function (the author is hatching a plot in this regard!), but probably such training is little needed at least at first. The first Step is to identify who, if anyone, performs the liaison function in the community and then to recognize that function as needed, legitimate, and welcome. Much else will follow naturally. The Eucharist, Priesthood, and Renewal Neil J. Draves-A rpaia Father Draves-Arpaia is a priest attached to Our Lady of Perpetual Help parish. The mailing address is: P.O. Box 160; Scottsdale, AZ 85252. Priesthood is not intrinsically linked to celebration. It is first, and ultimate-ly, united with self-giving, and therefore, sacrifice. And since the sacrifice of-fered by Christians at Eucharist is the victory of Christ which has brought us salvation, it is impossible, once we have grasped the depth of meaning and the redemptive grace of the eucharistic sacrifice, to be any other way than "celebrative." Those who would reduce the Mass to sober ritual, executed with rubrical precision and stone-faced devotion, or those who would see it as a moment for "religious merriment" have moved awfiy, in either direction, from the core mystery that the eucharistic celebration is. For me, the amuse-ment of one group and the solemn piety of the other are both suspect, and neither adequately speak or witness to priesthood to being a priestlypeople. What then might we look for? 1 believe it is necessary to move away from speaking on the Mass for a moment and concentrate on the daily life of God's people. Self-giving, self-forgetting love, sacrifice (whichever term we use) once placed within Christianity must be evaluated in light of the Cross. The eucharistic sacrifice then has "cruciform" implications, and we must look to a cross section of responses and attitudes that come forth from God's people in Christ. Priesthood is a visible sign in our midst of the reality of sacrifice, specifically in the life of a person who is priest, and in the believing communi-ty that would be priestly. Both must express in clear terms and behavior that something two-fold is happening in their lives: that, first, their personal rela-tionship with God is solid and radically oriented towards incarnating the first 28 The Eucharist, Priesthood, and Renewal and greatest commandment, and, then, that their human relationships are more than superficial and nice, but solid, radically oriented towards incar-nating the second and greatest commandment. How might we begin to make evaluation of these? I'm convinced that the priesthood of the faithful and the ministerial priesthood must look to the life of prayer, be it expressed in formal, informal, public or private prayer-styles. There we must begin to ask if, when we go before the Lord, we are truly inter-ceding on behalf of one another. This will give us an indication of how much and to what degree we are in touch with human life and the genuine human needs of those around us. If we cannot bring ourselves to intercede, then we cannot fulfill our principle role as priests or as a priestly people. This is especially significant to the role of the priest-president at the eucharistic sacrifice, for without a continuous sense of intercession in the daily life of the priest, the eucharistic prayer will be formula-oriented and not at all like the priestly prayer of Jesus, who went to the Father on behalf of the people. Next, we must look, priests particularly, to our horizontal prayer: our beseeching and inviting the people to come forward as instruments and missionaries of love. It might not always mean using words, nor may it require lengthy "shar-ing sessions." Priestly people and ordained priests need to know more about the fact that in any "priestly" experience, the action must speak louder than the words. The religious leaders of Jesus' day, from the picture we get from the Scriptures, had words that spoke more loudly than their actions. Jesus called his disciples to the converse: action over words, both in G~d-oriented matters (faith) and people-oriented matters (charity). It's also important to keep in mind that Jesus had the least to say when he was crucified. It was at that moment alone that his Gospel call to love hung totally on pure act. What can we conclude with regard to priesthood and its place within pres-ent renewal and the Eucharist? Liturgical renewal cannot have the impact it is meant to have if it is not preempted by a priesthood that speaks clearly on the issue of "self-giving." For the decade and a half since the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy was issued by the Council, the Church has heard stressed that "the liturgy is the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed," and that the faithful should approach the sacred mysteries with the proper dispositions so as to cooperate with grace, for the liturgy to produce its full effect. If the Eucharist is the summit, what is the base of Christian activi-ty, if it is not self-giving? And what is the proper disposition with which we ap-proach the eucharistic celebration, if it is not a readiness and willingness to be of praise and thanksgiving, openness and intercession, primarily in attitude, secondarily in words? Priesthood, both ministerial and the priesthood of the faithful (but prin-cipally the ordained priesthood)in itself must begin to look more like the eucharistic sacrifice to the Father with the people of God assembled. It must show itself "in the flesh" to be a continuum between brokenness and wholeness, of movement from the confines of secular humanism and/or 30 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 religious elitism (clericalism, fundamentally among priests themselves and the structures in which they function) to a sharedness, not solely in matters of, priestly service to the Church, but in the basic issues of their lives, issues which are common to all lives. Priesthood, as an instrument of renewal and in its ef-fect upon the Eucharist, becomes an incarnational experience, for it takes the Word and makes it a Verbum Dei: fleshes it, clothes it, directs it towards the kingdom. The moment becomes a means for priesthood to have within it a holiness that is greater than that of the scribes and pharisees since it acts on rather than talks about the concrete issues which face the world today. So, at the base of Christian existence the priesthood is motivation for the Lord's people to join in sacrifice both at the table of the Lord and at the table which is the world. The nature of this life of self-giving requires unconditionally simple signs which speak to the people, like the signs of bread and wine. But signs of love in the daily life of the priest become obscured when humanness is over-taken by a rank-ism in the Church which, in turn, degenerates priesthood into a separate class aloof from the laity and ineffective in speaking about their life experience except in the most "lofty" sort of ways. As the liturgical renewal called for a stripping of secoridary elements which found their way into the eucharistic celebration over the centuries, the priesthood, too, if it is to be an aid in the deep renewal of the Church, must have itself stripped of non-essentials. Like the eucharistic sacrifice of the Roman Rite; priesthood must begin to face the people and become more accountable to them. It must have its distracti'ng bells quieted. Priests, one would hope, can more effectively speak the language of the people and must appreciate how much priesthood's unique gifts come from the people and must return to them. It must witness a praise of life by the priest's readiness to help the human condition in each per-son's struggle to become reconciled to God. Priesthood, to me, expresses its thanksgiving best when priests themselves show a humbleness (which active thanks implies) before God and people, plus an openness which allows for the person of the priest to be nurtured by the community he is calling into fullness. This call to intercession is a vehicle, not for doing some thing for others, but as a preparation, a prayer, to be with them. To pray on behalf of others re-quires that the priest be half of the person who is neighbor. This would mean that we move beyond any limited and debilitating spirituality which might suggest that God hears the prayers of priest over those of the laity. The truly intercessory prayer that is Christian is the one which seeks from God a "oneness" with the p,eople to whom the priest is sent, as did the prayer of Jesus, "that all may be one as you, Father, are in me, and I in you; I pray that they may be one in us." Intercessory prayer speaks of sacrifice, for it moves away from the tendency to badger God for things for ourselves and others, and, when made by a priest, requests that he, here and now, will become the response the Lord would make to those in need. It is occasion for furthering solidarity in the Body of Christ (person to person) and for furthering solidar-ity in the Body of Christ (person to person) and for allowing the Holy Spirit to The Eucharist, Priesthood, and Renewal use priesthood as sacrament (God to his people). When intercession is made by a priestly, people, they pray to be the response the Lord would make to the world's needs, and the Church then can be a "kind of sacrament of union and unity." In this way, personal needs, while neither denied nor overlooked, become secondary for the moment, and the needs of others become primary for the moment. Intercessory prayer does not give us the chance to be self-seeking, or to approach God with the long multiplication of words that would make prayer manipulative and evasive. It helps us to understand more precise-ly why Jesus r~jects this as authentic prayer and replaces it with a simple prayer of unity that begins, "Our Father in heaven." The prayer of the priest (or of a priestly people) allows for lives to blend, and there will be less cause for disparity in the p.riest's daily life and his ministry at Mass, for this sacrificial celebration at the "summit of the Church's activity" will be an authentic summation of what has been. Priesthood has everything to do with self-giving, and as it forces its way out of entrapments it becomes an event, an encounter with what is real. The same applies to the entire people of God in Christ. Events, or moments of self-giving, are times of celebration and joy for they are an exodus from slavery, from the death of isolation and self~centeredness. It is on this issue where renewal is most needed: moving people away from thinking in terms of what they "do" to how they position themselves towards God and neighbor, the way they choose to be. The vocation of priest and of the priestly people leaps away, so to speak, from cultic functions and attendance at such, to a covenant in the eucharistic sacrifice, because there have already been preliminary celebrations ofthis mutual, self-forgetting love among Christians wherever they meet between the times they gather at table in the grace and peace of God, our Father a'nd the Lord Jesus. Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua: A Friendship in Perspective Paul Conner, O.P. Father Conner teaches moral and spiritual theology at the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology of the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley. His address is: St. Albert's Priory; 5890 Birch Court; Oakland, CA 94618. Catherine Benincasa's public life is more widely known than her personal life: during the six hundred years since her death, attention has been so drawn to her astonishing political impact on the Europe of her day that she is fre-quently called one of the most influential women of history. Within our own decade Catherine's enduring intellectual and spiritual authority has been heightened through her being declared one of the two women doctors of the Church. Little wonder, then, that the private life of this Sienese woman has escaped widespread notice, and yet in regard to human friendships, for instance, few life histories are as intriguing, both in scope and depth of development. I would like to focus attention in this article on the dominant human rela-tionship of her short life of 33 years, her friendship with Blessed Raymond of Capua. This relationship could be understood adequately on its own merits, but I find that it takes shape so much better within the immediate religious setting of Dominican life in which it was born and flourished. Looking to the Lord Jesus is indeed first; but after this, every religious family that seeks the essential features of its life must turn to its founder. Tempting as it might be, I do not claim that friendship is an essential feature of Dominican life, at least as friendship is ordinarily understood--though there are superb examples of it in the Dominican heritage, past and present. What is interesting though, is that Dominic did give the spirit of friendship to 32 Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua / 33 his followers, since his own life was so rich, even overflowing, in friendship, human and divine. A glance, then, at his life, together with what might be termed a theological consideration of Dominican friendship, will form a helpful con-text within which to view Catherine's and Raymond's unique friendship. St. Dominic In spite of popular misrepresentation of St. Dominic in later centuries as a stern, inquisitorial figure, conclusive, historical evidence shows him to be an exceptionally loving person. More than three hundred depositions for his canonization; his first biography written by his friend and successor, Jordan of Saxony; the Lives of the Brethren, collecting eyewitness accounts of the early years from all over the order, all tell of the many men and women in various walks of life who cherished friendships with him. Jordan speaks of Dominic's lifelong, radiant mixture of charm and reserve that attracted and held men's hearts. His best modern biographer in English, Bede Jarrett, puts it this way: "God's greatest gift to man in the order of nature, and almost the greatest even on the supernatural plane, is the gift of making and securing friends; and judged by this, Dominic was indeed blessed by God.'" The first brethren assure us that perhaps no one among them had a greater taste for fraternity than Dominic. He enjoyed friendships of varying degrees with his followers, and, like his Lord, chose from among them a "beloved disciple," John of Navarre. With the many communities of sisters that he founded, Dominic always maintained a personal bond, helping them in temporal but particularly spiritual needs, instructing them so that they absorbed his own spirit and dedication to truth. Besides 16aving us a descriptive portrait of Dominic, Blessed Cecilia kept a valuable record of his Roman ministry. She relates that during his visits to the sisters he either "exhorted them to greater spiritual ef-fort or merely sat among them, refreshing them with the charm of his conver-sation and sharing with them the experiences of the day.''2 The range of Dominic's friends outside the order was extensive. Legendary is his beautiful relationship with St. Francis. TheLives of the Brethren records that the two "became but one heart and one soul in God and enjoined their sons to foster this brotherly spirit until the end of time." Dominic befriended men and women converts; family members of people with whom he worked, such as the two daughters of Count Simon de Montfort; women recluses in Rome; bishops and cardinals--even popes. Gregory IX, in the bull of Dominic's canonization dated 1234, wrote that Domin'ic was ' Bede Jarrett, O.P., Life of St. Dominic (New York: Image Books, 1964), p. 122. 2 See M. H. Vicaire, O.P., Histoire de saint Dominique (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1957), V. 11, pp. 278-279. 34 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 bound to us by ties of deep friendship, before we were raised to the pontificate; his life carried with it in our eyes certain proofs of heroic holiness . We are convinced, as also are our people, that through his prayers God may do us mercy, and that one who was our friend on earth will still in heaven hold us in no less ~ffection. Wherefore. we have determined to add his name to the number of the saints.~ The prominence of friendship in Dominic's life noticeably influenced his early followers. Numerous touching friendships among them are a matter of historical record: Jordan of Saxony and Henry of Cologne, Jordan and Diana d'Andalo, Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas, and the two Dominicans of particular interest to this article, Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua. Theological Atmosphere A certain theological atmosphere has surrounded and, I would say, condi-tioned the development of Dominican friendships throughout the history of the order. This is as it should be, since Dominican life, like Christian life, tends toward fullness of love--primarily with the I ndwelling Divine Persons, but secondarily with all men and women whom God loves. This Christian love, or charity, is the main indicator of vitality and growth in the life of grace. Thomas Aquinas was the first theologian to penetrate into the mystery of charity by way of human experience of authentic friendship, applying his understanding to God's love for us and our love for him.4 A distinctodynamic seems to have resulted, creating the theological atmos-phere to which I refer. Dominicans have looked first to faith for conviction about divine love and friendship with God and God's friends. They have then looked to their personal experience of human friendship with God. They have found, particularly in prayer, that their experience 6f divine friendship served as corrective, if need be, and certainly as goal for their human friendships. These two experiences, the human and divine, mutually illumined and en-riched the other, each according to its competency. I would hazard a guess that a practical result of this theological atmos-phere has been that individual Dominicans were richer or poorer in friend-ships with other Dominicans depending on the age in which they lived. Let me explain. In all ages genuine Dominicans are very discriminating about their friends, owing largely, I think, to this conditioning theological atmosphere. They tend not to let natural instincts for friendship predominate, unless each particular relationship can be harmonized with divine friendship. Authentic charity as their chosen goal must determine everything in their lives. Besides rarely find-ing people enough to their natural liking in the baffling assemblage the Lord calls together in religious communities, their faith and theological orientation ~ See M. H. Vicaire, O.P., Saint Dominique, La vie apostolique Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1965), p~ 90. ¯ See St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, lI-ll, q. 23, a. I. Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua / 35 yield such a high ideal that natural potential alone is not enough to satisfy them. But in ages when many members of a Dominican community or province or the worldwide order are deeply one in mind and heart about essential goals and ways of Dominican life, friendships abound, even without much founda-tion in natural similarities. Close bonds are formed on the basis of similarity of thought, love for and dedication to the highest, most valuable, and most permanent of realities. On the other hand, history indicates that Dominican friendships are rare in times of wide diversity in mind, heart, and life concerning essentials of a com-mon calling. In these circumstances, with little in common by nature or by grace, profound friendships are the exception. Masculine-Feminine Complementarity in the Order of Preachers Before focusing on the profound relationship between Catherine and Raymond of Capua, let us look at an additional feature which Dominic built into the very structure of his order, namely masculine-feminine complemen-tarity. In Dominic's mind, the men and women of the order were each to con-tribute something essential to the order's goal of contemplating and spreading sacred Truth. His plan was that the nuns should pray and do penance, and the friars should preach. With this complementary power, no obstacle could pre-vent the accomplishment of goals. To assure from the beginning this complementary feature of the order, Dominic established at Prouille (southern France), in 1207, an arrangement he had known from his years as a canon regular in Spain: the "double-monastery" where friars and nuns lived side by side, each in separate convents yet joined in one common life. Later, wherever he had men, Dominic himself established the feminine counterpart: in Madrid in 1217; in Segovia, Saragossa, and Palencia in 1218; in Rome in 1221. He intended the same in Bologna with Diana d'Andalo and a group of her friends, but died before doing so. This planned masculine-feminine complementarity was emphasized throughout the order by the custom of calling the friars "Preachers" and the nuns "Sisters, Preachers, or Preacheresses.' '~ Saint Catherine, Doctor of Friendship Our context is now sufficient for turning to Catherine and Raymond, two Dominicans who personified in their friendship the masculine-feminine com-plementarity of their order. In her writings, Catherine was such a preacheress that, as noted above, she has been declared a Doctor of the Universal Church. Happily enough, she has See Paul M. Conner, O.P., Celibate Love (Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Press, 1979), pp. 54-56. ~16 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 left explicit teaching on human friendship, particularly :in Chapters 41-44 of her famous Dialogue. Briefly, she sees positive temporal and eternal benefits as well as distinct dangers. An enduring benefit is that we do not lose human friendships at death. Rooted in happiness in God, the saints in heaven also share one another's hap-piness and so color their own beatific joy with "more abundant., delight and contentment." Catherine looks at friendship on earth as "consolation, sweetness, com-fort, and joy." Friends here help one another "grow in grace and virtue," and they provoke each other to honor and glorify the heavenly Father. A serious danger arises from human friendship which begins primarily as spiritual love but slowly becomes predominately sensual. To bring con-secrated persons to this end, Satan will insidiously engender a distaste for religious life, inducing them to search for pleasurable compensations in friendships. Prayer is judged in terms of self-satisfaction and is eventually dropped. "Worldly conversations" become more and more appealing and help stifle former desires for prayer, purity of spirit, suffering for God, and fraternal charity. Why does God permit this outcome? It is because he desires to purify the person from his unrecognized imperfection of loving creatures with a love mainly "passionate" or "sensible." After a friendship becomes established, the person might observe, for example, that his friend pays more attention to others than to him. He experiences disappointment and suffering. There are, then, two possible outcomes. His suffering can bring the deepened awareness that he has been seeking self in a love he thought wholly generous--the Father's hoped-for outcome. This insight will give birth to healthy "distrust of self" and to a more perfect love, charity, for all persons, including his par-ticular friend. This happy result, Catherine asserts, can occur only i.n someone "enlightened by faith," who desires "to walk in the virtues.especially prudence and discernment." A person, however, who is "ignorant in the faith" and not striving to walk in virtue, a person who "has no life," as Catherine puts it, will find the experi-ence of diminishing sensible satisfaction in prayer a great danger. He may well follow Satan's lead and give himself up to "confusion, tedium of mind and sadness of heart, abandoning any virtuous exercises." To such a person, friendship will eventually mean ruin and inner "death." Despite her medieval view and expression of things, Catherine's general teaching on spiritual friendship stands clear: it is good if the result is authentic charity, not self-love. Catherine lived her teaching, filling her short life with an amazing range of men and women friends. One among them was unique. Catherine and Raymond Born of the noble Delle Vigne family of Capua in 1330, Raymond entered Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua / ~17 the Dominican Order at age seventeen. During studies at .Bologna he excelled in scripture and patrology before obtaining the lectorate degree in sacred theology. He taught in Dominican priory schools between 1358 and 1362, and for the next four years served as spiritual director to the nuns of his order at the monastery of Montepulciano. In 1367, he was elected prior of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, a principal Dominican community of men in Rome. Raymond was sent to Siena some six years later to be Regent of Studies for the young men of the order in training there. And so it was that this man of extensive education and experience came to meet Catherine in 1374, the consequence of both her praying for a confessor capable of guiding her in her evolving mystical experience, and of the order's appointment of Raymond tO investi-gate and direct her life. Catherine promised Raymond obedience, and after some time of testing her authenticity, he came quickly to understand her and her spirituality. From the beginning they admired each other, Raymond recognizing in Catherine a woman of fine intellect, intense striving for sanctity, and tireless apostolate; Catherine in Raymond, a man of intelligence, tact, breadth of understanding, and development in virtue. Upon this basis their friendship grew firm and profound. Frank admission~ in their writings and biographical events reveal that they came to know each other intimately. Catherine opened her whole soul to Raymond, who by his counsel and authority over her, helped her come to full self-knowledge. In four short years their relationship had become very important to both of them. When the pope called Raymond to Rome in 1377 to be prior again of the convent of the Minerva, Catherine's letters speak of her "torment" and the "particularly hard and painful" experience this first separation from her "intimate friend" occasioned. She asked the Lord, who had "imposed upon me a royal and very poignant trial., to strengthen me in this privation which language is so incapable of expressing.''6 Understandably, news from Raymond alwaysbrought her joy. Later correspondence gives further indications of the quality of their love. Once, when Raymond had turned back from a papal mission to Avignon because of impending ambush, Catherine affectionately reproached him. He misread her intention, and so she wrote: "You have thought that my affection for you had diminished; but you are mistaken . l love you as I love myself; and I have hoped that the goodness of God would also make your affection perfect.-7 In her numerous letters, Catherine customarily addressed Raymond as her ~ See Letter 119 quoted in Johannes Joergensen, Sainte Catherine de Sienne (Paris: Editions Gabriel Beauchesne, 1929), p. 187. 7 Josephine Butler, Catherine of Siena (London: Horace Marshall & Son: 1894), pp. 289-290. 38 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 "beloved Father," or "friend of predilection," or by the pseudonym that so pleased her, il mio Giovanni singolare--presumably in comparison to the Lord's preferential friendship for St. John. During the last months of her life, in extreme weakness and suffering, Catherine wrote a long report of her mystical experience to Raymond,. ad-dressing him lovingly over and over again: "My most sweet Father." In Letter 232 she tells him of a vision wherein she saw .herself entering by love and desire into Christ through the wound in his side, "accompanied by my Father St. Dominic; Giovanni, my friend of predilection; and all my spiritual children." It had been revealed to Catherine that the pope would send Raymond to King Charles of France and that she would die before his return. Raymond relates that she took him into privacy and "talked continuously, her large eyes shining., saying such strong and beautiful words." Often she "grasped his hand and smiled beautifully." Then, accompanying Raymond to the port of Ostia, she "knelt,., and crying, made the sign of the cross.''8 In their few years together, Raymond and Catherine collaborated in many undertakings, helping each other both naturally and supernaturally. Raymond, for example, was cured through Catherine's prayer from the plague which decimated Siena in 1374. He then joined her in relief work among the city's victims. Afterwards they went together in retreat to the tomb of St. Agnes of Montepulciano. Later in Pisa, Raymond was with Catherine in the Church of St. Christina when she received the stigmata. She prayed that the wounds be made invisible, and so it was that Raymond was the only person to bear public witness to the miracle. In 1376, the two met in Avignon in a successful attempt to persuade Pope Gregory XI to return to Rome. They traveled back to the Eternal City together, spending some time there with each other before Raymond's final departure. During their political actiQity, Catherine and Raymond turned to each other for support. She admired his political wisdom, most often following his advice which opened up new dimensions and possibilities to her. Together they promoted the crusades and prayed and worked for the reform of the Church. To counter a fear and reluctance in his character, Catherine would urge Raymond, when events demanded, to act bravely and with courage. In-deed, they cooperated in every way, so much so that one biographer con-cludes: "Catherine and Fra Raimondo were both working for the same ends, and aided each other with a mutual exchange of ideas, energies and counsels.''9 In the realm of grace, Raymond received instruction from Catherine for his spiritual progress. She was ever mindful of him in prayer, and even after See Hyacinth M. Cormier, O.P., Blessed Raymond of Capua (Boston: Marlier, Callahan & Co., 1900), p. 58. Arigo Levasti, My Servant Catherine (London: Blackfriars Publications, 1954), p. 140. Catherine of Siena and Raymond of Capua / 39 her death, Raymond testified that his spiritual stamina came from his con-tinued communications with Catherine in spirit. Before their final parting, Catherine wrote to Raymond: "1 beseech you to collect into your own hands any writings of mine which you may find and the book (the Dialogue); do with all of them whatever you deem is most for God's honor and glory.'''° Even in his overbusy life as Master General, Raymond worked successfully to promote Catherine's canonization, gathered and preserved all her writings, and found time to compose her first biography, a task that took him fifteen years. Dealing principally with her personal rather than public life and bringing to light the most touching incidents and her most characteristic traits, Raymond's is a surprisingly objective account. From it all later biographers have drawn their material. Conclusion Without doubt, in their close knowledge and love of one another and in the cooperative ministry they exercised, Blessed Raymond of Capua and St. Catherine of Siena exemplify the masculine-feminine complementarity of the Dominican Order. Their friendship helped each of them, as well, toward sanctity. We began by saying that Catherine's personal life could be better understood within its Dominican context. It has also become clear that through her own personification of the spirit of St. Dominic and of the charism he gave to the order, the latter itself stands better revealed. Friendship between Dominicans may not be an essential feature of Dominican life, but throughout the last seven hundred and fifty years, few friendships recorded by history surpass those between Dominicans. The order is fertile soil for close ties between persons fired by its goals and fully given to its ways. Could one not even say that the more Dominicans are Dominican, the greater the likelihood, today as in past centuries, of Dominican friend-ships? Letter 102 cited in Cormier, op. cit., p. 134. Service of the Heart: The Quest for Authentic Prayer in Judaism Michael Maher, M.S.C. Father Maher teaches Scripture at the Mater Dei Institute of Religious Education in Dublin. His last article appearin.g in these pages was "Old Testament Poetry and Religious Experience Today" (March, 1979). Father Maher's address is Woodview; Mount Merrion Ave.; Blackrock, Co. Dublin; Ireland. Everyone who has made an effort to develop a meaning,ful prayer-life knows how easy it is to allow regular prayer to become a mechanical ritual rather than a vital and elevating experience. But the danger of allowing prayer and worship to become a perfunctory recitation of hallowed formulae or a conventional performance of traditional rituals is not special to our age. The problem seems to be permanently contemporary, and Jewish religious tradi-tion seems to have been continually on guard against it. Ever since Isaiah sternly chided his co-religionists who honored the Lord with their lips while their hearts were far away (see Is 29:13), the leaders of Israel continued the prophet's task of safeguarding the truly spiritual and per-sonal character of the people's devotional life, and of ensuring that the indi-vidual's prayer should always be animated by a living faith, should always be the expression of sincere love, and should always involve deep feelings and devotion. The rabbis, and their successors right down to our times, used the word kavvanah to express the attitude of interior devotion and personal involvement that should accompany every prayer and every religious observ-ance of the devout Jew. Directing the Mind The word kavvanah which became part and parcel of Jewish devotional 40 Service of Heart / 41 literature is derived from a verb meaning to direct, and implies directing the mind to God, concentrating the attention on the prayers being recited, saying them in a spirit of devotion, and excluding thoughts and feelings that distract one from the experience of encountering God. When one prays with kavvanah one's heart and lips agree, and one's whole person is involved in the awesome act of appearing before one's Creator and Lord. This is what the Talmud' means when it says that "when a man prays he should direct his heart to heaven" (Berakoth 31 a). Another Talmud text declares that if a man does not put his mind to the performance of a religious duty his act is not a religious act at all (Rosh ha-Shanah 28b). These same ideas find another formulation in Pirke Aboth or the Sayings of the Fathers, a compendium of maxims that have been popular among all Jews since the early Christian centuries. Here the sage's warning runs as follows: "When you pray do not make your prayer mere routine, but a plea before God for mercy and grace" (PirkeAboth 2:13). To avoid the routine against which this saying warns the reader, and to minimize the danger of prayer becoming a merely mechanical recitation, the rabbis of the Talmud urged that something new should be introduced into one's prayer every day (Berakoth 29b). These and similar declarations created among the Jews an awareness of the importance of personal involvement in prayer, and by the Middle Ages the statement that prayer without kavannah or concentration is like a body without a soul or a husk without a kernel, had become proverbial. The Shulchan Aruch, a sixteenth-century law book which was regarded by all Jews up to our day as the authoritative guide to religious living, stated that "a little prayer with kavvanah is better than a lot without it." Although this declara-tion did nothing to diminish the prolixity of Jewish prayers or to shorten synagogue services--the Sabbath morning service, for example, lasting more than three hours--the spirit behind it continued to motivate pious Jews in their quest for sincerity and moral earnestness in their prayer. Just as the prophets of old rejected prayer that did not come "from the heart" (Ho 7:14; see Ps 108:1), the.rabbis o f the Talmud regarded prayer and worship as"a ser-vice of the heart" (Taanith 2a; see Sifre on Dt 10:12), and the Jews in general knew that prayer which was not a heartfelt, experience was not prayer at all. ' The word Talmud means "teaching," and is the name given to a body of writings that incor-porates what were at one time the oral traditions of Judaism. The Talmud records the laws that regulated the daily life of the Jews, as well as the general lore, legendary and otherwise, that formed popular Jewish culture. One version of the Talmud developed in Palestine from about the year 200-350 A.D., while another version was formulated in Babylon in the period between 200 and 500 A.D. The'Talmud is a commentary on the Mishnah (see next note), and like the latter is divided into six orders, which in turn are divided into tractates. Both Mishnah and Talmud are quoted according to tractate. Each tractate deals mainly with one special topic. Thus, for exam-ple, the tractate Berakoth--the word means "blessings"--deals largely with prayer matters. 42 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 Calm and Composure However, if the teachers in Israel regarded kavvanah as an indispensable quality of true prayer they realized that it was not something that can be easily acquired or retained. A text which has come down to us from about 200 A.D., and which is recorded in the Mishnah,' declares that "none may stand to say the Tefillah3 save in sober mind" (Mishnah, Berakoth 5:1). The text then goes on to say that "the pious men of old used to wait an hour before they said the Tefillah, that they~might direct their heart to God." The Talmud commen-tators on this passage remarked that one should not say the Tefillah while im-mersed in "idleness or laughter, or chatter, or frivolity or idle talk" since these are obvious impediments to the concentration and composure that should characterize one's communion with the Holy One. So important was this concentration and composure in the eyes of the rabbis that they recom-mended that one should not attempt to pray at all when one is agitated or preoccupied by distracting thoughts. They state, for example, that one should not pray on return from a journey in case one might not be able to give proper attention to prayer (Talmud, Erubin 65b). Another text which dates from the early Christian centuries declares that "One whose dead relative lies unburied before him is exempt from reciting the Shema" and the Tefillah . Because when a man sees his loss before him he is distraught" (Dt Rabbah 9:1). These recommendations convey the idea that one must control one's mind, one's imagination, and one's feelings before engaging in prayer. This teaching of the rabbis was to be expressed by Maimonides (died 1204), the great Jewish philosopher of the Middle Ages, who wrote as follows: Before engaging in pra'yer one must free one's heart from all preoccupation~s, and regard oneself as standing in God's presence. It is therefore proper to sit a while before praying in order to direct the heart and then pray calmly and devoutly. However, the Jewish teachers realized that the proper dispositions for prayer cannot be acquired during a few moments of concentration before ac-tually beginning to pray. The quality of one's prayer is greatly influenced by 2 The Mishnah, literally "repetition," is the name given to a collection of teachings that are attrib-uted to rabbis who lived in the period between 150 B.C. and 250 A.D. These teachings were codified by Judah the Prince in the middle of the third century A.D. However, in the compilation of~his Mishnah, Judah used earlier collections of rabbinic teachings. ~ Tefillah, meaning "prayer," is the name given to the Jewish prayer par-excellence which con-sisted of eighteen benedictions or petitions. The Tefillah was recited three times daily, in the morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening. Those who attefided the synagogue recited it there, while others recited it in private. The petitions of the Tefillah substantially go back to New Testa-ment times. ¯ The word Shema simply means "hear." It is the name given to a prayer traditionally recited in the morning and in the evening by every male Jew. The prayer, or rather confession of faith, begins with the passage, "Hear, O Israel." (Dr 6:4-9)--hence the name--and continues with Dt. 11:13-21 and Nb 15:37-41. Service of Heart / 43 the whole tone of one's daily life. Nahmanides, a thirteenth century Jewish mystic and scholar of Spain, was aware of this when he wrote: When you pray, remove all worldly considerations from your heart. Set your heart right before God, cleanse your inmost thoughts, and meditate before uttering your devotions. Act thus all your days and in all things, and you will not sin. By this course your deeds wil! be upright, and your prayers pure and clean, innocent and devout, and acceptable before God. Know Before Whom You Stand When Amos wished to warn his fellow-Israelites about the punishment that awaited them because of their infidelity he said simply: "Prepare to meet your God!" (Am 4:12). These blunt words were given a broad interpretation and the rabbis applied them to the preparation needed for prayer. Such an interpretation of the text is by no means unreasonable, because prayer is a meeting with God, and as such it cannot be lightly undertaken. Prayer for the rabbis in particular was a matter of what they called chutzpah, that is, an act of, boldness, even of impertinence. For who can have a right to appear before his creator and Lord, to address him, and to expect an answer? Yet the Jewish sages knew that prayer was part and parcel of Israelite life, and that the great heroes of old, like Moses, David, Jeremiah, had all prayed. Therefore, although the rabbis spoke of God as ".the Holy One, blessed be he," and addressed him in prayer as "Lord, King of the Universe," they never hesitated to present their every plea before him. The Talmud teaches explicitly that "'chut:&ah, even against God is of avail," meaning that God cannot resist one who prays, and that the Lord of Glory does not rejec~ his servants who approach him. Yet, lest the chutzpah involved in prayer go beyond boldness and con-fidence, and become insolence and offense, rabbinic tradition was careful to insist on the reverence and respect that should characterize one's attitude in God's. presence. The rabbis recalled tha,t when the Israelites saw the glory of God on Sinai "their souls fled" and the~, trembled in holy fear. If Moses and the generation of the Exodus who had experienced so many manifestations of God's power and goodness were unable to stand with confidence in his presence, how much more should the less privileged generations of the people feel overcome by his might and majesty? Rabbi Eliezer (c. 100 A.D.) gave this advice to his disciples: "When you pray, know before whom you stand, and in this way you will win the future world" (Berakoth 28b). A slightly modified version of this text became known to generation after generation of Jews who read the words "Know before whom you stand" inscribed in many synagogues over the ark which contained the scrolls of the law. Such an inscription reminded the worshippers of the awesome meaning of prayer, and forcefully suggested that all levity and casualness were inappropriate in the praying congregation. Other synagogue inscriptions that conveyed the same message were Jacob's words as recorded 44 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/1 in Gn 28:17: "How awesome is t his place! This is none ot her than t he house of God, and this is the gate of heaven," or the psalmist's declaration "1 keep the Lord always before me" (Ps 16:8), or the well known verse from Isaiah, "Ho-ly, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts," which was also to have an important place in Christian churches and in Christian prayers. These, or similar words, were continual reminders of synagogue worshippers that an attitude of flip-pant self-assurance or a casual or indifferent mood are unbecoming in one who genuinely strives to enter into communion with his God. However, lest the dignity of God and the serious nature of prayer frighten off the would-be worshipper, other texts which instill an attitude of trust in God's presence were at the disposal of those who went to the synagogue to pray. The Jerusalem Talmud laid down the general principle that the Jew need never hesitate to approach God in prayer: "When a man is in trouble let him not cry out to the angel Michael or to the angel Gabriel, but to me, and I will answer immediately" (Berakoth 9, 1.13a). The traditional Jewish Prayer Book began with a series of biblical texts which were designed to create an atmosphere of adoration and devotion in the worshipping community. Texts such as "O Lord, I love the habitation of thy house" (Ps 26:8), or "But as for me, my prayer is to thee, O Lord" (Ps 69:13) were calculated to set the scene for serene reflection, and to express an awareness of God's love and goodness without which prayer is impossible. So while the Jew's attitude to God contained an ingredient of reverent fear, and while his approach to his Lord was characterized by a sober recogni-tion of the divine majesty that 'cannot be flouted, his relationship to God was also marked by trust in a personal Being who, far from being an arbitrary despot, is a God in whom power and love are one, and who cares for those who approach him with faith. The Talmud taught that "one cannot deal familiarly with heaven" (Berakoth 33b-34a), but it did not set God outside the reach of the average Jewish believer. Gestures of Reverence In Old Testament times the temple in Jerusalem was for the Israelite "the house of the Lord" (Ps 27:4). The perpetual lamp which burned in the temple (see Lv 24:2f) was for the rabbis of later times a witness to mankind that God dwelt among his people (Talmud, Sabbath 22b), and the religious leaders of Israel strove to instill into the people a deep respect for the place where God had set up his abode. The Mishnah records the following prescription that was framed in order to ensure that the biblical command to "reverence the Sanc-tuary" (Lv 19:30) would be fulfilled: A man should not behave himself unseemly [in the temple area]. He may not enter the Temple Mount with his staff or his sandal or his wallet, or with dust upon his feet, nor may he make it a short by-pass; still less may he spit there (Mishnah, Berakoth, 9:5). Of course the ultimate aim of this prescription Was to honor the God who Service of Heart / 45 was worshipped in the temple~. The rabbis are explicit about this when they state that just as one does not revere the Sabbath but him who commanded the observance of the Sabbath, so one is not to revere the sanctuary but him who gave the commandment concerning the sanctuary (Talmud, Yebamoth 6a-6b). The authors of these rabbinic statements understood the importance of an aura of sacredness that can help to make one conscious of being in the divine presence, and that can help to generate the I~avvanah that makes prayer meaningful. Biblical tradition prescribes no particular postures or movements for prayer. But we do find mention of several physical postures that are meant to give expression to one's spiritual and menta

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See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1995Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library, clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for com~nercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read Joann Wolski Conn PhD Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1995 ¯ VOLUME54 ¯ NVUMBER4 contents 486 499 5O8 mission Twenty Inner-City Years Joanna Bramble, CSJ explores feelings, questions, and insights from her effort to revitalize an inner-city neighborhood and empower its people. Corporate Sponsorship: The 1990s and the Fruits of Our Labor Margaret MaW Knittel RSM raises some questions which suggest a fluidity of vision and a loosening of ties in regard to corporate sponsorship and the fruits of our labor. Retirement's Wisdom Years Catherine M. Harmer MMS proposes that retirement for religious may be a time of deepening wisdom and individuation and a time for a greater spirituality to emerge. 519 531 guidance The Enneagram Tad Dunne examines understandings of the enneagram and suggests ways of moving to a larger world of meaning and values. Imaging Spiritual Direction Mary Vginifred CHS discusses guidelines for spiritual direction and presents three images illustrative of the relationship between director and directee. 535 56O heritage The Brazier That Is My God: Teresa on True Prayer's Dispositions, Gifts, and Signs Mary C. Sullivan RSM highlights the prayer of personal conversion wi{h its many gifts as captured by Teresa of Avila in her rich metaphor of "dwelling places." Playing with Edged Tools Donald Macdonald SMNI allows the thought of John Henry Newman to enter us into a richer appreciation of vowed public profession as a part of radical gospel living. 482 Review for Religious spirituality 566 How Am I Doing? Signs of a Healthy Spirituality Melannie Svoboda SND suggests some indicators for checking on how healthy our spirituality is. 573 Appreciating God through Creation Roderick Payne OFM illuminates the heritage of St. Francis to draw attention to some aspects of prayer through creation. 585 589 594 6OO religious life Individualism and Rel!gious Life John Gallagher CSB reflects on three options dealing with the compatibility of contemporary individualism in relation to religious life. Psychological Screening for Religious Life Kevin E. McKenna reviews the help given by the Code of Canon Law for religious congregations attempting to form a consistent policy regarding psychological reports at the time of admission and the maintenance of personnel records. Reformulating the Religious Vows William Reiser SJ reviews the meaning of vows in religious life and suggests that an option for the poor might be a promise for our times. Let's Talk Again about Poverty Richard J. DeMaria CFC probes the meaning of poverty for religious-life practice today. ¯departments 484 Prisms 615 Canonical Counsel: Cloister for Nuns: From the Early Centuries to the 1917 Code 622 Book Reviews ~tuly-August 1995 483 prisms Pope John Paul's two recent docu-ments offer vision and direction: the apostolic letter Orientale lumen (The Light of the East) and the encyclical Ut unum sint (On Commitment to Ecumenism). More than helps to enter into the third millennium, they issue a call to conversion. In Orientale lumen the pope emphasizes that our Eastern Catholic and our Orthodox brothers and sisters are earnest bearers of a venerable and ancient tradition integral to the church's heritage. He calls for all members of the church's Latin tradition to become fully acquainted with this treasure. He desires us all to be fired by a pas-sionate longing that the church's catholicity become man-ifest to church members themselves and to the world, a catholicity comprising the several traditions together rather than in opposition to one another. John Paul uses monasticism as a special vantage point from which we can identify values important today for expressing the contribution of the Christian East to the journey of Christ's church towards the kingdom. In the East, monasticism, which did not experience the differ-ent kinds of apostolic life as in the West, is seen not merely as a separate category of Christians, but rather as a refer-ence point for all the baptized, according to the gifts offered to each by the Lord. John Paul singles out the common traits uniting the monastic experience of the East and the West and forming a bridge of fellowship, "where unity as it is lived shines even more brightly than may appear in the dialogue between the churches." lie empha-sizes the splendid witness of nuns in the Christian East: "This witness has offered an example of giving full value in the church to what is specifically feminine, even break- 484 Review for Religious ing through the mentality of the time. During recent persecu-tions, especially in Eastern European countries, when many male monasteries were forcibly closed, female monasticism kept the torch of the monastic life burning. The nun's charism, with its own specific characteristics, is a visible sign of that motherhood of God to which Sacred Scripture often refers" (9). Among the values reflected in monasticism for the life of the church, the pope highlights 1) a balance in Christian life lived as a personal response to an individual call and as an ecclesial and community event; 2) a liturgy revealing the proper harmony of the baptized-in-Christ and the eucharistic meaning of all creation; 3) a maturing journey in terms of knowing self and being free and able to love as Jesus loves; 4) a tradition of spiritual guidance from brothers and sisters to whom the Spirit has granted this gift; 5) a community showing us a life of communion and service beginning in the family and extending to the wider community; 6) a unity of theology and spirituality deriving from the triune God--the principle and foundation of the Christian understand-ing that the human person is meant for and made for relation-ship; and 7) an all-pervading mystery, enveloped in awe, with which the face of our God presents us. In still wider ways the encyclical Ut unum sint continues the call to deepen the unity we seek with one another and with God. Insisting that the unity of all Christians is God's will and is at the heart of the mission Christ entrusted to his followers, John Paul begs forgiveness for times when Catholics and the papacy itself have contributed to the divisions among Christians and calls for discussion about ways in which the pope can exercise power and authority in a reunited church. He notes that a heritage of saints belonging to all communities provides hope for the dialogue of conversion. "When we speak of a common heritage, we must acknowledge as part of it not only the institutions, rites, means of salvation and the traditions which all the communities have pre-served and by which they have been shaped, but first and foremost this reality of holiness" (84). The urgency of building for the future out of the strengths of Christian heritages marks both of these papal writings. We, like the pope, need to set our sights on this unifying and evangelizing mission of all Christians, thereby living up to religious life's own spiritual heritages. David L. Fleming sJ a~uly-August 1995 485 rnissJon JOANNA BRAMBLE Twenty Inner-City Years After almost twenty years of working towards the revital-ization of West Oakland, a depressed inner-city neigh-borhood, I took a year's sabbatical of travel and spiritual enrichment. In the middle of that year, I decided not to return as director of Jubilee West, the Community Development Corporation I had helped to create. I real-ized that I had unresolved feelings about my years in West Oakland, feelings and questions that I needed to work through before I could move on to the next steps in my work for justice. The reflections below document my liv-ing with those questions. What are my usual feelings about Jubilee West? I feel proud of what it has accomplished, but often I feel deep sadness for the people whose lives have changed very lit-tle, especially the ones I knew well and tried the hardest to help. I feel deep sadness at the unemployment, the drugs, the depressed people, and the piles of garbage that are evident with only a brief drive through the neighbor-hood. I often have an overwhelming sense of failure and powerlessness: so much of my life, love, work, anxiety, joy, hope . . . and so many people still with such con-stricted lives! I feel sadness and grief that the neighbor-hood where I worked for so long was worse after twenty Joanna Bramble CSJ is a consultant to nonprofit organizations in management and program analysis and a member of the provincial council of the Los Angeles province of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. Her address is 529 Jean Street; Oakland, California 94610. 486 Review for Religious years than it was before. It is not that our work did not change anything or made it worse; it just could never do enough. But the main cause of continuing disintegration in that neigh-borhood is not my and others' lack of effort or creative ideas. It is high unemployment and the increasing sale and use of drugs, along with other systemic oppression. How do I keep aware of the interrelatedness of many situations and people and things and somehow see my place as both important and unimportant? What was the situation I came to in 1973? And what did I want to achieve? The 1970 census and the Oakland 701 Study gave the following statistics about the West of Cypress area: ¯ 80 percent black and 18 percent Mexican American ¯ median family income: $3,941 ¯ unemployment rate 26.3 percent for men, 35.7 percent for women ¯ 50 percent of families on welfare; mean welfare income $2,110 ¯ 90 percent of the houses had been expected to be unusable by 1969 (most of these houses are still standing in 1995) ¯ median number of school years completed: 8.4 ¯ 24 percent of people over twenty-five years of age were high school graduates Residents listed their major problems as limited incomes and a high rate of unemployment, extremely poor housing, and poor-quality education. All of these problems still exist and are complex and interrelated. I chose to come to this depressed environment from eleven years of teaching English in white, suburban Catholic high schools. I had interest, concern, compassion, energy, enthusiasm, high hopes . . . and two months of training in community orga-nizing. I remember walking through the neighborhood and mentally singing the words to "Anatevka" from Fiddler on the Roof, newly popular then. The song speaks of the nothingness of the town: "people who pass through Anatevka do not even know they have been here., someone should have set a match to this place years ago." That is what West Oakland looked like to me. But the song goes on to describe Anatevka as home: "where else could Sabbath be so sweet., where I know everyone I meet." That too was West Oakland. It did not take me long to get to know friendly people, many of whom had lived there for years. I walked the streets and .~ly-August 199~ 487 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years sat in people's kitchens to discuss neighborhood problems. Soon some longtime residents and I started the West Oakland Improvement Association. What did I want to achieve? Mainly, I did not want a repeat of Anatevka; I did not want people displaced to make room for gentrification or other forms of development. In 1974 I wrote that my major goal was to help increase the peo-ple's awareness of their power to direct their own lives. Over the next twenty years, I became more deeply aware of the immense problems in people's lives and in the physical neigh-borhood. What I wanted to do both stayed the same and evolved, as did the strategies we used. Always there was the goal of empow-erment. As a community organizer I wanted us to win on issues that people had chosen as urgent concerns. More importantly, I wanted to build an organization that could continue to empower people and revitalize the neighborhood. We won on many issues. Our victories brought pride and increased self-confidence to a number of neighborhood people. But building an organization never really happened. People seemed too concerned with per-sonal survival to stay involved very long. It became more and more difficult to talk with people about community problems when they were concerned with getting enough food for their kids, paying the rent, and dealing with drug problems. These survival issues prompted me and my good friend Sister Pat Sears to start St. Patrick's Center at the Campbell Village Housing Project, where we saw to basic necessities, providing food, clothes, counseling, and a youth program. But decent afford-able housing remained the most urgent problem. Concern about people who were being displaced or were living in substandard housing, inspiration from Jubilee Housing in Washington, D.C., lots of participation from neighborhood people and suburban friends, and awillingness to step into the unknown with faith and hope led me and Pat to start Jubilee West as a nonprofit Community Development Corporation in 1980. We immediately began to buy and fix houses for poverty-level people even though we knew nothing about real estate or construction and had almost no money. Jubilee West also continued and expanded the com-munity services and youth programs begun at St. Patrick's Center. What successes can Jubilee West celebrate over the last fifteen years? Eighty units of scattered-site housing, most of it perma-nently affordable to poverty-level families: five million dollars in property assets removed from speculation and able to be con- 488 Review for Religious trolled by the community far into the future; hundreds of children helped with tutoring and enrichment; many others helped with mentoring and private scholarships to attend college; hundreds of adults placed in jobs, coming to literacy and ESL classes, or receiv- .ing emergency food, clothing, and needed counseling; and an his-toric building rehabilitated to accommodate various community events and to house the offices for other services. When I left, Jubilee West had a committed board of directors, a staff of varying degrees of competence, and a good funding base, although financial crises were and continue to be frequent. So why do I frequently feel like a failure? Mainly because I very much wanted to do something "for the people in the houses" more than just fixing houses and lowering rents and because I feel that most people's lives are not changed very much from what they were before. As I grew to know West Oakland people, I came to be most concerned about what I experienced as the "typical" resident. She is a woman about thirty years old, never mar-ried, with three or four children from different fathers. She has about a tenth-grade education, has never held a paying job, has very poor nutrition, and probably has an alcohol or drug problem. If she is not in JW housing or other subsidized housing, she may pay as much as 60 or 70 percent of her AFDC income in rent, leaving her less than $200 per month for all other expenses. She has no car, and so her experiences and those of her children are mostly limited to the West Oakland neighborhood. She appears depressed and apathetic or else quite hostile. So what did I wantJW to do for this woman? I wanted us to empower her to enrich her own life. What did I mean by this? How would I hope to be able to describe her after a .few years? I have thought a lot about my hopes for her, and I recently became aware that they are similar to my unrealistic goals for myself: As I grew to know West Oakland people, I came to be most concerned about what I experienced as the "typical" resident. She is a woman about thirty years old, never married, with three or four children from different fathers. .~uly-/lugust 199~ 489 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years I want her to have succeeded in or be in the process of get-ting off drugs, getting more education, finding a job and then a better job, stabilizing her family, getting enough income to move out of subsidized housing, deepening her spiritual values, becoming more psychologically whole, building community with her neighbors, keeping her house clean, taking care of her kids, and working for change in the neighborhood through participating in JW and other organizations. I want her to stay in the neighborhood or come back after she succeeds in order to help the commu-nity work for justice. As I write this, it seems so unrealistic that I want to add face-tiously that she should also be thin and beautiful, but not care too much about her looks. Obviously, one reason I feel like a fail-ure is that I had very unrealizable expectations. Only a few peo-ple could achieve the hbove, and only with superhuman effort or lots of good luck. I wanted my "typical" person to be aware of her power to change and control her own life. That sounds like a good goal. But perhaps my biggest mistake was that I did not give enough conscious acknowledgment to the reality of systemic oppression. When she tries to change in other than very small ways, she runs up against huge obstacles that make it exceedingly difficult if not impossible for her to "control her own life." Only a few really "win" in her situation; but, because those few do win, she feels that she too should be able to win. She blames herself and society also blames her, telling her in many ways that it is her fault. In some ways I contribute to this when I talk about "self-help" without at the same time talking about systemic oppres-sion. Her self-blame does not give her more energy to "fight the system" and to make small and then larger changes in her life; instead it leads to depression, apathy, or hostility. Similarly my self-blame, my feeling myself a failure for not being able to empower her, does not give me more energy to fight the system; in me also it leads to depression, apathy, and sometimes hostility. Issues of injustice in economics, politics, and education are profoundly interrelated. A minimum wage that inserts working people into the poverty level without enough money to pay the rent, a business economy dependent on a certain percent of unem-ployment, thousands of job layoffs so that even many people with good educations are unlikely to keep their jobs that pay a living wage, unjust distribution of wealth including "hidden" subsidies 490 Review for Religious for the rich (whereby more money is "spent" on tax write-offs for interest on home-ownership loans than on all the housing programs for the poor), drug traffic that brings huge profits to a few wealthy people, a welfare system that discourages work, the worst schools usually in the poorest areas, housing thought of as an investment for profit rather than a home to live in, pervasive discrimination against minorities, especially African-American males--these are only a few examples of the interconnected sys-tems that cause my "typical" person's situation. I have known all this for a long time. Did I fail to keep it in my awareness because I felt I could do little about it and I like solvable problems? In any case, I concentrated on self-help pro-grams-- how soon I found that often they do not succeed either! Each person in any self-help program must "choose life" for her-self, of course, and begin to act on her own behalf while at the same time society, "the system," must stop oppressing her. Both are interrelated. But as I reflected on my Jubilee West experience, I still heard the same familiar inner voices of my own self-blame. If only I had been smarter, worked harder, tried something more creative, then I could have made a bigger dent in solving these problems. At this point I was fortunate to come across the book Surplus Powerlessness by Michael Lerner. Lerner first talks about real pow-erlessness, the reality of an unequal distribution of power in this society: If a small number of us try to change things, we will run up against a brick wall. In fact, even if millions of people were to engage in activity to change things, in the short run we would find our society very difficult to change. The brick wall is not just a subjective illusion. The basic fact is this: American society is a class-dom-inated society. A small number of people have vast eco-nomic power while the overwhelming.majority has almost no power in the economic realm. Economic power gives that small group a huge amount of political power. While the rest of us have some political power, it takes vast expen-ditures of energy and time to win small victories. But to say that the elites of wealth and power have over-whelming power is not to say that they have absolute power. Things could be quite different if many people were to engage in the struggle for change. It would be a real strug-gle- and there would be many difficult defeats.~ After talking about realpowerlessness, Lerner describes surplus ~uly-Augus~ 199Y 4.91 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years powerlessness as "the set of feelings and beliefs that make people think of themselves as even more powerless than the actual power sit-uation requires, and then leads them to act in ways that actually con-firm them in their powerlessness." He is describing me when he shows how many activists continually manage to redefine the con-ditions of success in such a way that they always feel "one down" for not having accomplished enough; they redefine their victo-ries as failures and do not credit their own real accomplishments. I certainly do that often. Lerner reminds us that when society claims it is set up in a fundamentally fair way, in which people can make it if they really try, powerlessness is seen as a product of the individual's personal failures. Thus self-blame becomes the central element in surplus powerlessness. It grows stronger every time we blame ourselves for having failed in some important way and have no compassion for ourselves in view of all the ways that reality pushes us to be less than we want to be. Taking responsibility for one's own life works only for the part of the population and for the societal issues where objective conditions allow for real change. People need help to distinguish between factors out of their control about which they could be legitimately angry and factors that would change if they changed how they thought about themselves and how they lived their own lives. Surplus powerlessness, self-blame, deflects attention from the real problems and hence from any real solutions. The anger that might be reasonably directed against a social order which gener-ates personal unhappiness is instead directed inwards and becomes depression or a dangerous buildup of repressed violence. But Lerner's next point is also part of my" experience. Once people are no longer disempowered by self-blaming, they are in a better position to change their environment. Surplus power-lessness can be lessened by supportive group interaction and by developing compassion, showing people that the problems they face do not come from personal inadequacies, but are faced by others as well, and that people need one another's help in facing these problems. My reflection on Lerner's concept of surplus powerlessness shows me that I have been blaming the victims, both my typical West Oakland person and myself. I have definitely internalized the American way that tells me that, if I have a problem, I should take care of it, work to change it, and not blame someone else. 492 Review for Religious But, to avoid the extreme of blaming others for my problems, I frequently go to the extreme of not giving much acknowledg-ment to the real powerlessness in my life, to the real systems that are oppressing me as well as my typical West Oakland person. At this point in my reflection, I read Joanna Macy's books Despair and Personal Power and World as Lover, World as Self about the need to feel pain, experience it, work through it: my pain and the pain of others. I see that as a big clue for me. I went back to my sabbatical journal written in Washington, D.C., in 1992. One of the questions in Mary Cosby's class on "call" was "What is your deepest pain?" I wrote, "I'm not aware of very much personal pain. Actually my greatest pain seems to be feel-ing the pain of others: so many homeless people on the street, so many hurting children, so much violence in the world., and feel-ing powerless to do very much about any of this." A few days later at a creative-movement session I felt overcome by sorrow and tears. I kept feeling, saying, crying to myself: "I didn't know how to make it better for people. I am so sad about that ¯ ¯ . sad because people were not helped, not so much that I couldn't help but that they weren't helped., thinking of Sylvia, Spring, Connie, Deedee, Charetta, Pat, A1, Brenda . . . tears because I couldn't do it, but more because life did not change for them . " I remember feeling that I must be avoiding some deeper personal pain if the major pain I was aware of was pain for the world, for other people. Now I see that a major need for me is to feel my pain, which greatly includes pain for the world. Joanna Macy says in Despair and Personal Power: "We have trouble cred-iting the notion that concerns for the general welfare might be acute enough to cause distress., but pain for our world touches each of us, and this pain is rooted in caring., our apparent pub-lic apathy is but a fear of experiencing and expressing this pain, and once it is acknowledged and shared it opens the way to our power." 2 I have definitely internalized the American way that tells me that, if I have a problem, I should take care of it, work to change it, and not blame someone else. July-August 199Y 493 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years During that semester in 1992, I picked up an old journal from 1988, specifically looking for how I dealt at that time with my pain over the distressing situations I experienced daily at Jubilee West. A pattern seemed to be: I would run into a small or large problem that was usually a symptom of a larger systemic problem; feel frustrated and ptwerless; think I should be able to solve it; blame myself because I could not; go to bed depressed, wake up with somehow more energy ready to try again, to think up some new way to address the problem . . . but rarely allow myself to really feel my own pain and sadness. Although many people were involved in Jubilee West, I always felt myself ultimately respon-sible. I also frequently neglected my deep need to gift myself with beauty and nourishment for my soul. I have always felt a great desire for silence, solitude, beauty, prayer--for finding ways to experience the sacred in all of life. But I often let compulsive efforts to solve problems rob me of the centeredness necessary for living and acting from a contemplative way of being. As a step in the process of"living the questions" and of writ-ing this article, I walked around the West Oakland neighborhood visiting some of my longtime friends. I had not been able to do this since leaving Jubilee West three years ago; when we moved away last fall, I just disappeared without telling many people that I was going. So this walk was a pilgrimage for remembering and finding cause to grieve and cause to rejoice. What do I learn for myself from all of this reading and reflec-tion and from my recent pilgrimage of walking in West Oakland? What does my inner wisdom tell me? What follows are some exploratory answers as I live the questions: 1. Feel your pain, take time for it. your personal pain and that of the West Oakland people that you care about, and the world that 'faces the possibility of total destruction. Allowing myself to feel pain is hard to do; I am more used to giving thirty seconds to pain and then moving on to possible solu-tions. But, on my walk through West Oakland, I was more able to be with the pain of what I experienced: my own fear when I went into Campbell Village by myself because of what I know of the violence, drugs, and crime that are always there; the usual mounds of garbage everywhere, especially in front of my friend Sally's apartment; Sally's son in jail for using and selling drugs--I remem-ber him as a cute, loving eight-year-old; the fifteen or twenty men on the corner of 14th and Peralta as they always are--drink- 494 Review for Reh~ious ing and buying drugs; Trisha's house boarded up because she was evicted for drug activity, when she had been one of Jubilee West's most promising tenants. 2. Feelyourjoy also and others' joy as well: celebrate small suc-cesses, continue the lifelong task of dealing with your inner judge that says, "but it isn't enough." My walk through West Oakland gave me many opportunities for experiencing joy. It felt good to remember all the times I have been in people's houses having coffee and conversation. My friend Joanne greeted me with a big hug, and we laughed over old times together. Two of her children are doing very well, she is enjoying her job taking care of hand-icapped people, she still feels empow-ered by the victories we achieved together many years ago, and her sense of humor is still spectacular. Annie also greeted me with open arms; she is an elderly woman who owns her own home and several oth-ers in the neighborhood, though all of them are in various stages of disrepair. As I sat in her tiny kitchen, she asked me who she could get to help her change her will, and I remembered how hard it was, many years ago, to convince her to make a will at all. My last stop was Charles Garcia, who because of our orga-nizing efforts scraped up $1,700 twenty years ago to buy the falling-apart house he was living in--a small amount, even in 1974, but monumental to him. Although he was not home, his pride of ownership was evident everywhere: lots of beautiful roses in the front yard, a stained-glass window over the door; his daugh-ter spoke of wanting to. move her own growing family back to that neighborhood. I was pleased to see that there was only one burned-out house on Chester Street, when there had been many a few years ago, and I felt pride as always at Jubilee West's twenty-two new-con-struction apartments on Goss Street, definitely the ~best-looking housing anywhere in the neighborhood. My experience of joy on my walk through the West of Cypress neighborhood brought home to me the truth of Joanna Macy's Celebrate small successes, continue the life-long task of dealing with your inner judge that says, "but it isn't enough." jUuly-August 199Y 495 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years words: "When we open our awareness to the web of life, we con-nect not only with the sufferings of others, but to the same mea-sure, with their gifts and powers . . . if we can grieve with the griefs of others, so, by the same token, by the same openness, can we find strength in their strengths, bolstering our own individual supplies of courage, commitment, and endurance."3 3. Acknowledge real powerlessness and systemic oppression. Deepen awareness of this as a reality check, as the main reason for not continuing self-blame, as a step to determining at which point to try to intervene. Catch yourself when you are blaming the vic-tim, whether that victim is yourself or someone else. 4. Acknowledge surplus powerlessness in yourself and in others, and try to find ways to deal with it, mainly by group sharing and by compassion for yourself and others. 5. Give up the myth that there is one key to changing the world. I have had the fantasy hope that there is one key to changing oppres-sive systems and that, if I could just find it, I would know what to do. Now I am more aware that transformation is happening on many levels at once and that it is not necessarily more important to work on one rather than another; I have lots of options for where I can best use my gifts to work for change. 6. Give up the myth that I am totally responsible (even when and if it is my job to be in charge), that I necessarily have the power to create the changes I want. Sometimes I have that power, often I do not. Any transformation will take many people working in many ways. A friend told me recently that she has become passionately committed to nudging the world toward justice and ecological san-ity. The idea of nudging shows a good grasp of reality and the pos-sible, and many people are doing this all over the world. 7. Give as much time as possible to the beauty, silence, and soli-tude that I so long for and know is essential to the life of my soul. My greatest desire is to act from a deeply contemplative stance. I do not always live that way, but I become more and more con-vinced that it is the only way to be who I am, to be at peace with myself and the world. Many questions remain as I come to the end of these reflec-tions, but hopefully every deepened insight leads to new possi-bilities and changes in my way of being, feeling, and acting. My questions will take more than my lifetime to answer. I am reminded of a vivid memory from a few years ago. I was in the midst of a crisis at Jubilee West, and I went to walk around the 496 Review for Religious lake to try to think of what to do. As I walked, I would come up with an idea about a next step, bu~ a voice in me kept asking, "What if you can't solve the problem?" I would be with that ques-tion for a few minutes and then start again to plan strategies. But the voice was persistent: "What if you can't solve the problem?" I have been brought up to believe that, ifI have a problem or see a problem, I should try to solve it. In fact, I very frequently have been able to find solutions to problems, to achieve what-ever I put my mind to achieve. Similarly, in World as Love~; World as Self, Joanna Macy quotes Lyndon B. Johnson as saying during the Vietnam War: "Don't come to me with a problem unless you have a solution." She tells of some colleagues in France who, ridi-culing our American culture for demanding instant solutions to problems, said we should "let the difficulties reveal themselves first before rushing for a ready-made solution, or else you will not understand them.''4 And so, as I walked around the lake struggling with the com-plexities of my crisis, the persistent voice asking "What if you can't solve the problem?" was actually a blessing. It pushed me to experience that often I cannot solve the problem. What is needed then is not more strategies, but waiting in openness: openness to the unfathomable presence, power, energy, connectedness in the universe, in me, in other people, and in all situations--which I call God. What is needed is sitting with open hands and open heart in deep silence and solitude, or dancing with abandonment to powerful music, or walking on the beach feeling the immensity of the ocean, or remembering my redwood tree. What is needed is anything that brings home to me the sacredness of all beings. I am remembering also the poem by Wendell Berry that I first saw on the kitchen wall at Genesis Farm, the environmental study center where I spent six weeks in the spring of 1992. It moved me deeply then and still does, giving me a powerful image of commitment to the possible in the darkest of times: "In the dark of the moon, / In flying snow,/. / The world in danger. / I walk the rocky hillsides / Sowing clover." I wonder what forms my clover will take? In looking through my 1991-92 .journal, I rediscovered another powerful image, a dream I had on 1 February 1992 and had forgotten. The image of wholeness in my dream links with Joanna Macy's wisdom about the interconnected whole in Despair and Personal Power: "What is it that allows us to feel pain for our Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years world? And what do we discover as we move through it? What awaits us there on the other side of despair? To all these ques-tions there is one answer. It is interconnectedness with life and all other beings. It is the living web out of which our individual, sep-arate existences have risen, and in which we are interwoven."s Deep implications of this dream are gradually surfacing as I continue to reflect on it more than three years later: I am in a house with many people., much chaos., there is a cupboard with a lot of jigsaw puzzles., suddenly they all fall out and come crashing down . . . so there are hun-dreds of puzzle pieces all over the floor., all from differ-ent puzzles . . . instead of feeling hopeless, like I would never be able to sort out the pieces and put each puzzle together again . . . in the dream I feel hopeful . . . like what was individual puzzles is now one big whole . . . and the challenge is to make a new picture in a new way. Soon after I wrote the pages above, my friend Sister Pat, cofounder of Jubilee West, died unexpectedly while we were vaca-tioning in Vermont. We had worked, argued, dreamed, planned, and enjoyed life together in West Oakland for nineteen years of a longer close friendship. Pat was "home" to me; now I feel like a homeless person. In my grief I have felt that God is burning himself into my soul, in intense pain and intense beauty. Was it in another lifetime that I wrote, "I'm not aware of very much per-sonal pain"? I am amazed that "Feel your pain" was one of my "exploratory answers." It has helped me take time for the sadness of my loss. I am hopeful that my pain will give me strength and wisdom to respond to the world's pain in new ways. My under-standing of my own "answers" is deeper than when I wrote them. Hopefully, I am more ready to keep working to create a new pic-ture, a new wholeness. Notes ~ Michael Lerner, Surplus Powerlessness (Oakland: Institute for Labor and Mental Health, 1986). These and other quotations from Lerner are a combination of a variety of pages in this book. 2 Joanna Macy, Despair and Personal Power in the Nuclear Age (Baltimore: New Society Publishers, 1983). These quotations are a com-bination of a variety of pages in chapters 1 and 2. 3 Macy, Despair, p. 32. 4 Joanna Macy, World as Love~; World as Self(Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1991), p. 18. s Macy, Despair, p. 24. 498 Review for Religious MARGARET MARY KNITTEL Corporate Sponsorship: The 1990s and the Fruits of Our Labor I alternate between thinking of the planet as home--dear and familiar stone hearth and garden--and as a hard land of exile in which we are all sojourners. --Annie Dillard, "Sojourner" Mey mother had lived in this home, built by her father, ver since she was eighteen, and now sixty years later she was selling the stained-glass windows, the hardwood floors, everything. All went well but for that last moment holding all the pain. We walked away bearing the image of strangers in that beloved doorway, frame of four generations. Doorways of insti-tutions, too, owned and operated by generations of women reli-gious, hold countless emotionally freighted moments, and near the close of the 20th century the terms "corporate sponsorship" and "fruits of our labor" have become and remain inextricably bound. In one ethical frame come three questions that are relevant to these two realities, corporate sponsorship and fruits of our labor. The three questions suggest a fluidity of vision, a loo'sening of ties. The questions are: Who are we? Who are we becoming? Who are we called to be? Who Are We? Over successive generations the corporately sponsored institutional ministry increasingly became for Catholic women religious in the United States their "hearth and garden," Margaret Mary Knittel RSM served as director of personnel services at Saint Xavier University in Chicago from 1981 to 1987. Presently, as a consultant for nonprofit organizations, she writes to us from I 1 Simpson, H; Geneva, Illinois 60134. ~uly-Aug~st 1995 499 Knittel ¯ Corporate Sponsorship the consummate fruits of their labor, our labor. Hospitals, nurs-ing homes, orphanages, .high schools, and colleges together form a litany of dedicated achievement, of the brick-by-brick accom-plishments of many dedicated women. Annie Dillard's feelings about this planet as hearth and garden and land of exile help identify three groups or generations of women religious who for a hundred years have owned and operated those institutions.1 These generations we shall call the exiles, the arrived, and the The first generation, the exiles, traveled from countries like Ireland, Germany, and Italy to North American mission lands. The second generation, the arrived (or arriv&s), lived in an at-homeness within their institutions in the burgeoning years. Now, in these closing years of the 20th century, we have a third gen-eration, the sojourners, seeking a new way to live their profes-sional commitments and their personal lives as vowed women religious upon finding themselves living in smaller and smaller groupings on a planet presenting challenges and opportunities their pioneering sisters in exile--their grandsisters--would not recognize. For the exiles--pioneers, all of them--the missions of the late 19th and early 20th century meant lives of physical sacrifice and economic deprivation well beyond the virtue or vow of poverty. Those women pieced together budgets, scraping their ingenuity for survival. Having come intent upon working hard, they strove to build hearths and gardens and kept striving and struggling, remaining and reminding themselves to be exiles at heart, women in a foreign land. Echoing the economy at large, the institutional ministries they had founded and maintained boomed after the lean years of the Great Depression. The second generation, the arrived, brought forward personal and corporate energies to build up edu-cational, social-service, and healthcare institutions surpassing the dreams of the earlier immigrant generation, the exiles. With increased settling in, this hearth of the religious women's profes-sional lives, this sponsored work, began for some to take on near-salvific powers. This hospital, this academy, began to hold terrestrial hopes and dreams, promised a salvation, and hinted of a this-side immortality. Plaudits, awards, and status were afforded to this generation of women who had arrived, who in some cases had left a humble family circle for what was increasingly becom- 500 Review for Religious ing an educated, secure middle-class community. They, we, by one definition indeed had arrived. For the arrived, their hospital or academy chapel began to localize the garden of the spirit. Here each morning and evening, all, regardless of professional status, gathered together at prayer. Here the contemplative "side" sought nourishment as the apostolic "side" waited just outside the chapel door. Hearth of work and garden of spirit, these became fix-tures within the corporate institu-tions cared for by the members of this second generation. Who Are We Becoming? In the movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" the central figure, an exceedingly obese mother of four, says to her teenage son in a moment of reconciliation, "I never wanted to be like this." She had eaten her way to virtual immobility after her husband walked away from her and their children. Do we women religious, as this 20th cen-tury of ours draws to a close, gaze at our corporate body and say to ot~rselves, "We never wanted to be like this"? The founders of mis-sions here in the United States began on an inspiration to do good The second generation, the arrived, brought forward personal and corporate energies to build up educational, social-service, and healthcare institutions surpassing the dreams of the earlier immigrant generation, the exiles. in the sight of the God, and now, one or two hundred years later, their legatee corporate body has perhaps come to he something overly substantial: substantial hearth and garden, substantial fruits of our labor. These places, these institutions, became the symbolic body of our corporate identity within the church and the symbolic immortality within our destinies. Boards, philanthropic individ-uals, committees, friendships have been cultivated in the name of a hospital, an orphanage, or a school, and individual women's identities have been formed by and dedicated to bricks and steam pipes and windows. And then, as a distant window opened in the early 1960s and Vatican Council II convened, the corporate body ~ly-August 1995 501 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship began to be looked at and came into question: "Is this who we are becoming?" For some women and men, in and out of religious life, the signs of the times appealed to in the council documents began to replace the signs of success. The prophet Jeremiah's call to voca- Women religious know that an additional thirty years, like those since the council, will not be afforded them. A sizable amount of post-Vatican time has quickly become history, and religious can recite lists of classrooms already vacated, hospital beds unused, and doors closed. tion describes a people God observes burning incense to strange gods and "adoring their own hand-iwork" (Jr 1:16). The prophetic began to ease itself forward. The work of our hands, the fruits of our labor, came into question. Now, in these late days of the 20th century, the hearth lies gray with embers and the garden shows signs of late-summer exhaustion. Women religious know that an additional thirty years, like those since the council, will not be afforded them. A sizable amount of post-Vatican time has quickly become history, and religious can recite lists of classrooms already vacated, hospital beds unused, and doors closed. Worse, we know in our aging the lists of needs more acute, more violent, than our grandsisters might have dared imagine. With abuses crowding our culture into corners that seem to offer no choice, we acknowl-edge there has to be more to this journey. Who Are We Called to Be? Our third generation, the would-be sojourners, wonder at this late-20th-century hour: "Is this our time of exile? Shall we be graced to select to become sojourners. Selecting to be sojourners, to move from being securely settled to securely unsettled, recalls the, sweep of the Hebrew Scriptures showing us a people finding centers other than God. The king-dom, the temple, the land--here was the answer. No, not here, there. No, not there, here. Efforts to restore the earthly kingdom kept centering on realities other than God. But Yahweh contin-ued to insist. 502 Review for Religious Selecting to be sojourners calls us to know how to go into exile, how to travel. Traveling, what shall we pack? Timing, how to schedule transportation, stopovers? And we cannot forget those allowances of minutes and hours, those sponges of time, to absorb this unfamiliar territory, this plan, these new connections. We will not know the language, but will need to interact and relate with others in order to continue on the journey and will have to search our imaginations for ways to communicate constructively. Life will move more slowly even as we continually need to cope with myriad details. Knowing exile, we will know ourselves anew. A clock continues to tick, and while many individual women religious hear it, the instinct to muffle its sound remains. "Enough!" we hear. Our alternative thoughts drift to sojourning, but graying embers say "Enough." We lived through the changes of the 1960s and '70s immediately after the council. No more traveling, turning, leaving, remembering, forgetting, previsioning, refashioning, or paradigm shifting for us! Just leave me alone. Enough. Give me the basics for survival and let me live out my life, here. Give me my job, my position, my power. Give me space. But a clock continues to tick. Learning to Mourn Henri Nouwen has said, "Yes, we must mourn our losses. We cannot talk or act them away, but we can shed tears over them and allow ourselves to grieve deeply. To grieve is to allow our losses to tear apart feelings of security and safety and lead us to the painful truth of our brokenness. Our grief makes us experience the abyss of our own life in which nothing is settled, clear, or obvious, but everything constantly shifting and changing.''2 At issue here is whether or not women religious have the energy to mourn. There have been deaths--countless funerals, remembered rejec-tions, and downright hostilities and hatreds. Yes, death seems to have been an integral part of this life once so much idealized--the youth and the joy! But, through all of these deaths, have we short-circuited a certain human pathos, admixing theologies and spiri-tualities, being at times more stoic than Christian? Several weeks after the death of my mother, an acquaintance asked, "How are you doing?" An incident, fresh that day, helped me to describe a way of being that I would later learn is common to us and may be where the corporate person of religious life .~ly-Auguyt 1995 503 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship finds itself today. I told him of my standing in the middle of a room that morning, about to clean, but not knowing what to do next. My emotional energy was somehow separated from me as a person. As women religious, do we stand in the middle of a room and not know how to clean it, with our individual and corpgrate emo-tional energy elsewhere? Solneone has said, "Leaders are people who do the right thing; managers are people who do things right.''3 Is there a sense that somehow our corporate energy has separated itself from the corporate body so that with our corpo-rate leadership we continue doing things right rather than doing the right thing? Walter Brueggemann has observed that "reli-gious practitioners are often easy and unwitting conspirators with such denial. We become the good-humor men and women, for who among us does not want to rush in and smooth things out, to reassure, to cover grief?.''4 Rush in, smooth out, reassure--sounds familiar. What and where are the deep-down places in which we will individually and corporately rejoin our emotional energies, find ourselves? While sometimes we feel sublimely practiced in the various forms of grief, having experienced death in many forms, have we mourned? Have we cared enough about ourselves individually and corporately to let in the slow, mysterious loneliness, the ever changing healing of life after a death, a shocking, numbing death, has occurred? This work of mourning looks not only to the past but also to the future, fully realizing that new steps must be taken. The ability to bear wholesome and healing grief is every bit as much a fruit of our labor as the most imposing achievement of our corporate endeavors. Who are we called to be in this late 20th century, and is God directly and immediately in charge? Given our status and our connections, have we--women religious who have arrived--cor-porately capitulated to others' being in charge, someone else's agenda. "The task of the prophetic imagination is to cut through the numbness, to penetrate the self-deception, so that the God of endings is confessed as Lord.''s We come through the numbing to learn from a God in charge that the fruit of our labor may be "only" to know Jesus the Christ once again as way, as truth, as life. In this late 20th century, the fruits of our having arrived carry the exotically sweet flavor of success taken for granted and of 504 Review for Religious controlling power. In some instances we think it necessary to cling to these fruits with an even tighter grip. What sadder use of our time than participating in meetings with unseen forces with a view to reconstituting yesteryear rather than working with hope for tomorrow! Is there true conversation within our communi-ties, or merely some talk while waiting for followers to follow? Whether we would speak with Brueggemann's "prophetic imagination" or Philip Keane's "moral imagination," can we imag-ine imagining? Keane has said, "Communities as well as persons need t6 develop moral character and exercise moral imagination as they seek to address the great issues of our times.''6 When a loved one dies, a significant part of our grieving may involve imagining the future without them. We have known and loved them, but deep down we grieve for ourselves in an unknown future--a birthday or a Christmas--without their presence. We deeply miss this lost past. The exile has begun, with or without us. We need to acknowl-edge it, learning more and imagining more about what it means to mourn. We will be sojourners, like our grandsisters before us, leaving the comforts of home, however we currently define and hold on to them. "A number of factors can hinder persons from being genuinely reflective and playful in their moral thinking," says Keane; "power or force is one such factor.''7 Shall we become more reflective, more playful, and imagine leaving our present "homes" of wrongfully constructed political power, of oppressive behaviors? What prevents us from asking: Who are we? Who are we becoming? and Who are we called to be? The answer from some, if not all, may lie in these processes of the prophetic, these questions. Land of Exile: Corporate Sojournership "Fairly often," says Keane, "I run into persons whose image of God is that God is out to get us. Such persons want to be told what to do, and they are afraid of using their moral imaginations. Their religious or prayer lives will often be quite limited because their fear keeps them from really being open to the power of the Gospel stories.''8 As women religious we seek the courage to imag-ine and do corporately what many individual women and men have already wrestled with in their lives. We need, corporately, to turn in the keys, have a good cry, and move on. 3~uly-Al¢g'ust 199Y 505 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship Turning in the keys does not necessarily mean a wholesale closing of eacli and every institution. Some would like that, but it could indeed prove shortsighted and definitely unimaginative, even though some say the community's need for money is a good reason for selling this hospital or that academy and others say, "If we sell, we would be doing something holy." Abandoning an inner-city hospital without recourse to imaginative possibilities of how this long-cared-for space--the land's square feet and the buildings' cubic feet--could now serve the poor better might well become a new urban tragedy. We will need to go after anew, with all the civic clout that our years of being respectable arrivges can muster, the neighborhood's endemic and systemic problems. The friends of our institutions of the past may not choose to be the companions of our sojourning in the years ahead. But, together with those who would stay with us, we n~ed to find out who we are called to be. In any new land such as the future, there will be questions, then some answers, and then new questions. Our bequest, the fruits of our labor--whether embodied in our present corporate buildings and our present apostolic endeavors or not--must always be directed towards common goods that our corporate resources and corporate energies can hope to accomplish. People reflecting on the conversion to which all of us are called expect that the hearth and garden that halve come down to tis from a former time, these substantial signs of our having arrived, will increasingly suggest to us new common and corpo-rate lives of sojourning exile. These and similar questions will keep occurring to us: How will we use the power and influence we have? What could the prayer of our community be like? How will we imagine and live appropriate ways of coming together and being together--or of being together and going out together? What can we do most effectively for the coming of the kingdom? Shall we be women of vision, corporately attending to the good? Shall we corporately prepare in earnest to live in exile, to be sojourners, persons consciously and deliberately ready for the journey that begins and ends in God? Notes l Annie Dillard, "Sojourner," in Teaching a Stone to Talk (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1988), p. 150. 506 Review for Religious 2 Henri J.M. Nouwen, With Hearts Burning (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 27. 3 Warren Bennis, Why Leaders Can't Lead (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1989), p. 18. 4 Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic hnagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), p. 49. s Brueggemann, p. 49. 6 Philip S. Keane, Christian Ethics and Imagination (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), p. 104. 7 Keane, p. 107. 8 Keane, p. 107. Tourist Your T-shirt's stamped in letters large across your chest: KATMANDU. Your bike is labeled with a hundred road resorts. Your car is dotted round with all your touring triumphs . So, why not take another route today? A low-cost tour to that other inner world inside. Stay quiet by that vast unbounded inner ocean in your mind. Dive, swim and surf. Fly free. Ride high the inner waves of thought and feeling endlessly exhilarated, or delve into the dark and secret untrod cavern of your soul. Discover now the mystery of creation; confront the abyss unending of your own nothing-self becoming. And meet in that remote mysterious empty temple, far inside, your God. Cothrai Gogan CSSP .y~uly-August 199Y 507 CATHERINE M. HARMER Retirement's Wisdom Years One of the recurring discussions at assemblies and chap-ters of religious revolves around the rising median age, the need to care for our elderly, and more subtly the growing costs of such caring. The issue is an important one in that most United States congregations have median ages over sixty. An examination of congregational budgets shows that increasingly large amounts of money are dedicated to the care of the elderly. The National Conference of Catholic Bishops has been sponsor-ing a special collection for aging religious that people contribute to with great generosity, but it covers only a small part of the actual costs. A visit to the motherhouse of almost any group of sisters will show that a large part of what was housing for novices in the past is now dedicated to the aging members. Some motherhouses have very fine infirmaries for the sick elderly. There is no question that religious leaders are making great efforts to provide the best they can for their members through all stages of life. I would like, however, to examine two aspects of that effort. The first has to do with the nursing-home care that many of the sick elderly need. The second has to do with the concept of retirement for religious and the way it has been handled over the last twenty years or so. The Sick Elderly The first topic is the simpler one and will get less treatment in this article. In the care of our sick elderly, the emphasis has Catherine M. Harmer MMS wrote "Election: A Call to Service" for our September-October 1994 issue. Her address is Medical Mission Sisters; 300 W. Wellens Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19120. 508 Review for Religious been changed from the simple caring for them "at home" that was possible when the median age was much lower and the num-ber of elderly religious was either smaller or relatively smaller. When that was the case, at the motherhouse a small staff assisted by novices and postulants could care for them in much the same way that a family could take care of any sick or elderly member of it. Gradually, as the numbers increased and the sick elderly lived longer, a more professional model, that of the nursing home, became more common. As this was happen-ing, the percentage of vigorously active members was decreasing. At present, in most of the retirement facilities I have visited over the years, the staff is largely lay with very few religious among them. In some very large congrega-tions, with several hundred sick elderly members, the facilities com-pare well with any licensed nursing home, often providing much better care and definitely offering more loving care than in the average nurs-ing home for the laity. In smaller congregations the attempt to pro-vide quality nursing care results in Some small congregations in a given area are studying the feasibility of establishing an intercon gregational nursing home. A few religious leaders are looking at ways to provide for their members in general nursing homes in their area. small facilities that are as expensive to maintain as considerably larger ones would be. In some cases a nursing staff (composed mainly of nurse aides) that could care for thirty patients is taking care of ten or fifteen, sometimes fewer. As congregations face the heavy financial drain, there is a movement toward collaboration among the congregations in a geographic area. This is a positive development that could lead to good care for the religious and lower financial costs. Some groups that have larger facilities are opening them to other congrega-tions. Some small congregations in a given area are studying the feasibility of establishing an intercongregational nursing home. A few religious leaders are looking at ways to provide for their mem-bers in general nursing homes in their area. All of these steps are difficult. Often the members of a con-gregation are very unwilling to have their elderly cared for away .~dy-August 199Y 509 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years from their own motherhouse. At times the elderly themselves feel that they are being mistreated by being separated from their tra-ditional homes. Only a few consider it a good thing to be in a nursing home of mixed patients, men and women, religious and lay, in spite of the pastoral potential of such a model. The efforts of leaders and the combined efforts of congrega-tions to deal with both the physical realities and the psychologi-cal and religious values are important ones. Key for the leaders will be understanding, patience, and collaborative stances. For the members, those who are elderly and those who are not, it is important to develop an acceptance of the reality they face and a willingness to keep their last days congruent with what has gone before. I suggest that this requires ongoing education for every-one and a spirituality that looks at one's last days as continuous with the dedication of earlier days. Religious Retirement In our efforts to prepare one another for "retirement," we may have bought into a model that was emerging after World War II and continues to develop in terms of what aging and retir-ing are all about. This brings me to the second topic, the one which will constitute the major portion of this article. It is all the more important because it bears upon the first as well. It has to do with how we are viewing retirement. I believe that we have accepted a way of looking at retirement which is increasingly being challenged in the population at large and that we need to study it in the light of what our entire religious life is about. Several aspects of this model of retirement raise new questions. The current model in the United States assumes that people will retire at sixty-five if not earlier. When Social Security became a reality in the 1930s, life expectancy was lower, many people did hard physical labor and had relatively poor nutritional histories, and their hope was simply that at retirement they could stop working without worry about becoming dependent on their chil-dren or "ending up in the poorhouse." Today life expectancy is much higher, and the reality is that many people stay active, healthy, and alert for twenty years and longer after they retire. A second aspect, then, is that retirement is a time of not work-ing and, instead, spending one's time and energy at play of one sort or another. (Married women often have less of the play since 510 Review for Religious they are still expected to do the work of keeping up the home.) A problem here is that many retired people soon become bored with the play aspect. Some move toward part-time jobs or vol-unteer work, while others become captives of the television or the endless bingo games of our less creative senior centers. A third aspect of the current model that deserves examina-tion is the tendency to move away from the place where most of life was spent. This sometimes has to do with seeking a warmer climate or more economical housing. The result is that, as peo-ple age, they are out of regular con-tact with their family and must develop new friends. Even the elderly who manage well on their own in their original home are often under pressure from relatives and friends to find a smaller place-- which often takes them away from the community in which they have close ties and away from some sig-nificant activities that they could otherwise keep up. People are living longer while remaining physically and mentally vigorous, and yet the model of retirement continues to treat them as if they cannot do anything but play. What is being lost is the opportunity for them to contribute to family, to friends, to com-munity, in a different way than during their working years, but a way that is significant and needed. What is being lost to society at large is the accumulated wisdom of the elderly, a loss our soci-ety cannot afford. It would be a shame for religious congregations to follow the national model for retirement too closely. While few if any con-gregations have fixed ages of retirement from major involvement in ministries, there has been a subtle movement over the last few decades to start "thinking about retirement" while the religious are in their fifties. Without necessarily meaning to do so, this has too frequently led to a mentality that places retiring somewhere in the sixties, even if there is no real reason to do so. I have vis-ited motherhouses where some of the sisters appear to have retired Although the idea that play is the major activity of the retired has not taken hold so completely in religious congregations, what has developed is a sense that this is my time to do with as I wish. J-uly-dugust 199Y 511 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years far too soon and are desperate for some way to be involved in ministry. Mthough the idea that play is the major activity of the retired has not taken hold so completely in religious congregations, what has developed is a sense that this is my time to do with as I wish. Especially in motherhouses, which tend to be out in the country or relatively isolated, this leads to a combination of small tasks around the motherhouse, activities that mimic the senior citizens' centers, and some increased emphasis on the spiritual life without much attention to how that might be different at this stage of life. Often when I talk with the retired themselves I find a deep longing for two things: to find some meaningful part-time min-istry and to explore what spiritual life means at this latter stage of life. When retirement takes place at a motherhouse, you find the same isolation from community that the lay elderly experience who move to Florida. While most religious have lived and worked in a number of places, there was always the parish, the school or hospital, sometimes the neighborhood, as a framework for involve-ment and support. This is now gone, and the beautiful grounds of the motherhouse, the special facilities, and sometimes the large numbers (for those, notably, who were used to smaller groups) are no substitute for what has been lost. Religious do not, on the whole, do a lot of complaining, but the sense of loss is often heard in the undertones of a conversation. We hear ". everything is so nice here., everyone is so kind . . . but."--and the long-ing is very real. I am increasingly convinced that elderly religious should, whenever possible, have the same choices as the younger members. This stage of life is important, and it needs to be rec-ognized as such. In the remainder of this article, I want to address two impor-tant things about aging and retirement for religious: (1) the sec-ond half of life as a time of deepening wisdom and individuation, a time for a greater spirituality to emerge, and (2) the role of elderly religious in continuing the mission of Jesus. For many ideas here, it will be evident that I am indebted to Carl Jung, but also to a fascinating book by Jane R. Pr~tat on the croning years (1994). As I read her book, I found myself dwelling on several ideas: that our society wastes the wisdom of the elderly at a time when we need it most; that aging is not just something that hap-pens, but a part of the whole picture of life; and that much of 512 Review for Religious what is wrong in contemporary ways of looking at and dealing with aging in general are found also in regard to aging among religious, especially in how we treat the reality we call "retire-ment." The Second Half of Life Some years ago a large number of articles, workshops, and counseling programs focused on a particular transition seen as noteworthy, the "mid-life crisis." This concept seems, from a Jungian point of view, relevant to the developmental model's tran-sition from the first to the second half of life. This division into two halves does not have a chronological point, just ~s mid-life cannot be tied to a specific number of years of life. The first half of life is devoted to infancy, childhood, and young adulthood inso-far as these parts of life have to do with coming to know the world around ourselves, coming to an understanding of who we are as separate from our parents, learning, developing a working career, and moving to success within that career. At the midpoint, we might wake up in the morning and ask: Is this all there is to life? How we answer that question may indicate if the second half of life is about to begin. If the answer is "Yes, this is it!" we could spend the rest of our life simply as a continuation of the first half until death. If the answer is "No, there is something more!" we could enter into the second half of life. In the second half of life, the tasks shift to integration of the parts that have been separated during the first half, the move-ment toward individuation, coming to know ourselves in a dif-ferent way, and the decision to move toward wisdom. The "wise old man" and "wise old woman" archetypes begin to emerge dur-ing the early part of this second half of life. I believe that many people make the shift to the second half of life without ever hear-ing about Jung or his developmental theories. They recognize that something is changing in themselves, and they move with those changes. Some of the "play" elements of retirement--the programs for senior citizens that involve bingo, excursions, and hobbies--could be considered a return to an early part of the first half of lifel Now that we have done our work, earned our pension, we can again become the children whose task is play. For people with a limited field of interests, this may mean watching television for ffuly-August 1995 513 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years As we age; there is often a longing for a deeper understanding, a greater closeness to God. It is a normal part of the second half of life. long hours of the day and night. This is to remain in the first half of life, possibly until death, without ever taking the step into the second half. For other people, the leisure activities are part of their under-standing of where they are in terms of age, but other aspects also begin to emerge. Spending time with their children and grand-children can be a way of being the elder who is communicating the lore and the wisdom of life. This is a second-half activity and one much needed in today's culture, in which single-parent families and families with both parents working are becoming the norm. Contact with the older generation, with grandparents, . uncles, and aunts, which for long years was the norm, now is the excep-tion in many families. Wisdom also has to do with com-ing to a deeper knowledge of God, a greater and deeper integration of the spiritual life. For many people, life has been so busy, so full of duties, that the spiritual life was relegated to a set of rituals honored on a daily, weekly, or yearly basis. As we age, there is often a longing for a deeper understanding, a greater closeness to God. It is a normal part of the second half of life. In some cases it is connected with daily Mass for people who during their working years were quite con-tent with the Sunday Mass; it may mean a return to some of the religious practices of childhood; sometimes it is :a search for deeper intimacy with God. This longing belongs to the wisdom quest of this second stage. Religious, hopefully, have not stinted on their attention to the spiritual and to God's presence all through the active first half of their life. Yet the sense that the latter half of life has some-thing special to offer is found among them as well. One cannot deny, though, that some religious at this stage seem to put i:he haain emphasis on play. Their way of playing may be different, but it is still play and may involve television, novel reading, trips to the casino with the senior citizens' group, and considerable family visiting. 514 Review for Religious As a country we have to explore how to make the wisdom of the elders available to our children and to our busy adults. In the extended family of the past, this happened very simply. At one time in my childhood, I went every Friday after school to my grandparents' home so that on Saturday morning I could help .my grandmother with some of the cleaning she found difficult to do. What I remember most is conversations after supper on Friday with my grandfather, who told me the stories of his youth when he was an organizer of the unions in the steel mills of Pittsburgh. I also remember listening to music on the radio, and all three of us reading our separate books or magazines. Elderly religious off in motherhouses and retirement centers lose their easy contact with yoilnger religious, lose casual opportunities to share their wisdom with them, just as grandparents nowadays are often in other states where spending time with their grandchildren is no longer 'possible. In some motherhouses there are now prayer centers and renewal centers that give workshops and courses for sisters and lay people who are interested. At one point I had a constant flow of their catalogues coming across my desk. Fine as many of these centers are, I rarely saw anything that addressed the need for exploring the spirituality of the latter half of life, of the retirement years. Yet in those same houses I often met older sisters who longed for scripture study, for prayer assistance, for some way of understanding and developing the spirit life for this special part of their earthly sojourn. Some Strategies for the Second Half of Life It seems to me, then, that there are two things leadership would do well to do~ (1)to make it possible for elderly religious (granted their varying degrees of diminished energy) to continue to be involved in meaningful ministries that connect with the congregation's charism and mission and (2) to make conscious efforts to help the elderly religious move through the integrative work of the second half of their life in a way that is just as appro-priate as the novitiate training was for the first half. ., I live in a parish at present where more than half of the sis-ters in the local convent are well into the second half of their life and thus are no longer able to be involved full-time in the min-istries of their congregation. The congregation is a teaching one, jg~uly-August 1995 515 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years staffing many parish and,diocesan schools. A few of the sisters teach in the parish school, others commute to diocesan high schools, and the older sisters are engaged in time,limited but very vital ministries, These include teaching and tutoring in the adult literacy center, tutoring children from the grade school, and vis-iting elderly shut-ins 'in the neighborhood. None of these are full-time involvements. In some cases the sisters go to the school, in others the students come to them in the convent. Whenever I meet with these women, I am struck by the joy and peace that are obvious in them. Not everyone can be placed in a parish convent. Some of our elderly need to be in places like motherhouses where their greater physical needs can be provided for. It is sometimes possible to bring ministries to these motherhouses and at the same time pro-vide a wonderful service to others. I have been to motherhouses where there was day care for children in some parts of the build-ing and day care for ~he elderly in other parts. Two wonderful things happened there daily. The children and the elderly spent some time together every day, and both benefited by the experi-ence. The staff of both facilities had "assistants" from among the retired sisters who, like the women in my parish, could not work full-time, but could be counted on for blocks of time on .a regu-lar basis to help with both groups of day-care clients. o To keep our religious involved as long as possible has another imp.ortant benefit. Most o£ the research on the aging process shows that, if people stay physically and mentally active, they stay healthy longer and age more slowly. We have wonderful examples of very elderly people maintaining their mental and physical capacities long past the expected time and making contributions to art, 'literature,. and the commonweal. Even more important, this is a time when .religious can begin to share the wisdom that has come to them with age, experience, and deep reflection on the meaning of life. This is a wisdom that is very much needed in our culture, a wisdom that too often the children and young peo-ple do.not find around them. Religious can become, in~ a very real way, the grandparent figures ifi their parishes, neighborhoods, and institutions. This is the wisdom of experience joined with reflec-tion upon that experience. 0 The second thing needing attention from leadership is the effort to help religious .use their latter years creatively in order to move toward the union with God that has been such a part of our 516 Review for Religious thinking throughout life. Many of the forms of prayer and spiri-tuality that are helpful to members of active religious congrega-tions during their early and middle years are apostolically oriented. Appropriately, the religious appreciate seeing a close connection between their ministry and their spirituality. The inner life and the outer life are integrated, ideally, in a rich and vibrant way. Changes take place as religious move through the early years of the second half of life. Spending less time and energy in direct apostolic efforts, they have more time for more leisurely ways of praying. They are ready for the next stage of devel-opment of their inner life. Their focus at this stage is somewhat different from that of their early and middle years. It has within it many of the same elements, but also some new ones. In this stage the elderly may desire to recall or renew some of the things they learned in earlier years, but did not have time to savor and assim-ilate. Frequently they speak of their desire for scripture classes, for prayer workshops. These can be useful, but they need to be focused clearly and carefully on the latter years. Now the emphasis is not on quantities of information, but rather on depth, on quiet composure and integration within each individual's inner reality. The wisdom years are the time when the. "wise old woman" and "wise old man" archetypes come to the fore. While the wis-dom can be for oneself, it is even more for others. At this stage there is not likely to be any necessity to go out and preach or teach, but there should be a simple and peaceful realization that the wisdom being garnered is also for others. This is why it is important during these years: for religious to have two areas of concern: one for the continuing development of the wisdom that has been growing in them over the years, and the other for shar-ing that wisdom, very simply and directly, with others. As religious move along through this final stage of life, it is essential that they have the assistance they need to foster the growth of their inner life, to be more open to wisdom, and that they have opportunity to share it with others. Thus, the ending of Most of the research on the aging process shows that, if people stay physically and mentally active, they stay healthy longer and age more slowly. ~uly-August 199Y 517 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years life can be as full and as rich spiritually as any of the earlier stages, and it can be lived out in a truly mission-centered way. This will enrich the lives of the elderly religious themselves, but also of those who are yearning for that wisdom and do not yet know where to find it. It will bring a fullness to the lives of the "retired" and of those around them. It will be a far happier period than one given to play, television, and various excursions. Religious have frequently been the pacesetters in ministry. Perhaps it is time for the "retired" religious to begin to model to other retirees a richer, fuller, and more outwardly directed wisdom retirement. References Johnston, Charles M. Necessary Wisdom: Meeting the Challenge of a New Cultural Maturity. Seattle: ICD Press, 1991. Pr~tat, Jane R. Coming to Age: The Croning Years and Late-Life Transformations. Toronto: Inner City Books, 1994. Exposition Bless you, caress you~ enfold and possess you. Blessed by you, caressed by you, enfolded within you. Possessed. Chris Mannion FMS 518 Review for Religious TAD DUNNE The Enneagram Since the. early 1970s, religious educators, spiritual men-tors, retreat directors, and, most recently, management trainers have been talking about the "enneagram." 1 The theory proposes that each person is hooked by one of nine psychological compulsions--similar to the seven "capital" sins in classical Christian literature? Dozens of authors. and lecturers nowadays are teaching the theory to help people discover which of the nine compulsions is theirs and bow to accomplish their psychological liberation from it. The nine types are often referred to in caricatures: the Perfectionist, the Helper, ~he Status Seeker, the Sensitive Artist, the Observer, the Accuser, the Planner, the Bully, and the Slug.3 To edch of these descriptions, enneagram teachers attach longer descriptions of phobias, ambitions, expectations, learning style, sexual dynamics, management style, virtues, prides, blind spots, fixations, senses of time, and so on. The r~lations among the com-pulsions are represented by a circle whose circumference is numbered, at nine equidistant points. Within the circle is a triangle drawn from points three to six to nine. Also within the circle is a folded hexagon drawn through the Tad Dunne is an adjunct professor of medical ethics at Marygrove College, Detroit, and a management consultant for Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Michigan. He has published Spiritual Mentoring (HarperSanFrancisco) and Lonergan and Spirituality (Loyola University Press). He may be addressed at 2923 Woodslee; Royal Oak, Michigan 48073. guidance July-August 199Y 519 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram cycle 1-4-2-8-5-7-1. This strange figure has become the logo of the enneagram system. Enneagram and Myers-Briggs People often compare the enneagram to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which classifies sixteen personality types accord-ing to one's preference for ways of noticing experience and mak-ing decisions. The chief difference between them is that the Myers-Briggs instrument indicates personal preferences, all of which are psychologically normal, while the enneagram indicates pathologies. That is, in the Myers-Briggs'all the types are healthy, while in the enneagram all the types are sick. So the Myers-Briggs is useful for accommodating one's own thinking style with col-laborators'; it helps groups identify the preferences for ways of learning and evaluating that exist,among their members and to deploy their relative .strengths accordingly. The enneagram, in contrast, is useful for identifying neuroses, mostly in oneself. The Myers-Briggs indicator, rooted in Jungian psychology, carries a positive attitude toward human consciousness, whereas the ennea-gram, rooted partly in Freudian psychology, takes a more suspi-cious stand. Few psyqhologists, however, rely on either tool for diagnostic purposes, because of an absence of empirical studies that correlate with validated' tests. Among other helping professionals, the Myers-Briggs indi-cator enjoys a wider and less controversial reputation than the enneagram. The sixteen preferences are easily understood; one can readily find Jung's comments on people's preferences between extraversion and introversion, between sensate observation and intuition, and between thinking and feeling.4 The enneagram, in contrast, has sources shrouded in arcane knowledge from a cor-ner of the Sufi tradition unknown to most Sufis and from George Ivanovich Gurdjieff, a self-styled visionary from Russia with dubi-ous credentials. The many enneagram books and tapes that have been published in the last decade tend to describe each of the nine compialsions in dogmatic terms--a style of presentation that allures some but alienates others,s 520 Some Positive Aspects of the Enneagram One of the most disturbing claims made by enneagram devo- Review for Religious tees is that these nine types cover the total human range of com-pulsions. Not ten, not eight.6 There are subsets among the nine, but these supposedly cover all possibilities. Devotees base this claim on an unfamiliar model of personality and on the ennea-gram logo, whose origins are untraceable.7 But what is really dis-turbing is that, despite the dogmatic claims of the theory and an absence of experiment-based research, it is difficult to find any-one who fails to fit one of the types. Enneagram fans in the help-ing professions, after years of working with the tool, feel that these nine are just about right. And individuals claim that the enneagram has helped them to reach a deeper understanding of their personal compulsions than any other self-help system has, In other words, this weird, unempirical, upsetting, gnostic, and mys-tifying map of the psyche seems to work. In 1990 Claudio Naranjo MD published Ennea-Type Structures: Self-Analysis for the Seeker. Enneagram students were eager to read what he had to say, since he led the development o_f the the-ory among English-speaking publics. His book, the smallest I know of on the subject, builds the theory on much more solid ground. That book is now out of print, but has been incorpo-rated in Naranjo's new and expanded volume, Character and Neurosis, published in 1994. Naranjo lends legitimacy to the theory in several ways. Unlike most other enneag.ram authors, who tend to pile adjective upon adjective and style upon style to cover the many variations possi-ble within each compulsion, Naranjo,keeps the set of descriptors limited. He wants these descriptors to function the way they func-tion in clinical manuals such as the DSM tli, namely, as a list of discreet phenomena sufficient to distinguish one type from another? By describing diseases with as little overlap as possible, he enables therapists to spot the core problem more quickly and waste less time on manifestations of the problem shared with other compulsions. Naranjo also takes pains to make a distinction between pas-sions (anger, envy, gluttony, and so forth) and the cognitive errors that underlie each passion. These errors amount to uncrit-ical assumptions about what life is like--the kind of oversimpli-fied worldview (and subsequent inappropriate adaptive routines) that Ellis deals with in his rational-emotive therapy.9 By pin-pointing cognitive errors, Naranjo believes, a person can iden-tify and dissolve his or her pet myths in order to rob the j~uly-August 199~ 521 Dunne * The Enneagram corresponding passion of its rationale and thereby weaken its grip on the psyche. Another contribution Naranjo makes to the theory is that he consistently explains the psychological dynamics at work in each compulsion, rather than just stating them. By appealing to his readers' understanding rather than their memory, he invites them to consult the workings of their own psyches to verify the pres-ence of certain subconscious routines. This is no small achievement. The mind is easily content with a notional familiarity with terms. Only under the whip of intel-lectual desire will we push forward to uncover for ourselves some of our psychic gremlins that have never seen the light of con-sciousness. Likewise the heart is easily comforted with comfort-able feelings; it takes an inner discipline, responsible to no one but oneself, to face up to the discomforts of acting responsibly. In my limited experience of teaching the theory, I found that many students find it too difficult to allow the teaching to break through their automatic defenses and deal with their hidden fears and cravings. The enneagram doctrine just feeds a ravenous compul-sion. So the Status Seeker uses the enneagram to advance her own reputation. The Observer uses it to gather yet further infor-mation before he ventiares out into the world. And so on. Enneagram work is particularly difficult for teachers. They are tempted to devour the lore with teaching in mind, not learn-ing. The work, however, is for people on a personal mission-- those who possess enough self-knowledge to know they are learners in the school of self-knowledge. Much of Naranjo's prose envisions a therapeutic setting in which a seeker looks to a men-tor for guidance. The aim of the therapy is not to settle what our basic compulsion is, as if from that point on we know what box we are in. The therapeutic outcome is not to identify a conceptual scheme that sometimes describes our behavior. The desired out-come is to understand specific experiences of being not our best selves, using conceptual schemes as initial indicators of what may be causing the trouble. This is why it is important to hold the enneagram types at arm's length. Although some people seem to fit a single type per-fectly, others seem to fit several types. Are these latter persons-- whose self-deceit eludes everyone's analysis--all the while being victims of only a single compulsion? Or have they really developed several distinct alternatives to authentic living? Practically speak- 522 Review for Religious ing, it makes no difference so long as users rely on the ennea-gram as nothing more than clusters of fixations and behaviors that logically hang together. Their conceptual consistency is merely a model to help people raise relevant questions about the inner events that possess a slippery logic of their own. Besides his economy of description and his reliance on per-sonal understanding, a further significant contribution Naranjo makes to the theory lies in how he has analyzed the connection between psychological difficulties and exis-tential decisions about being human. Going beyond Oscar Ichazo, from whom he first learned the theory, as well as beyond the people who had already published his enneagram material, Naranjo bases each psychological dynamic in a fundamental spiritual crisis he calls "ontic obscuration," which is a kind of a deafness to our inner drives to be authentic persons. He proposes that, just as certain cognitive errors under' lie each passion, so certain existential fail-ures underlie each cognitive error. This is significant because it puts the focus directly on the inner work of being fully human. Other authors settle for cate-gorizing people by behavior patterns or look to childhood trau-mas to explain present weirdness--the kinds of analyses commonly found in popular psychology. Indeed, popular psychology usually lacks the words and ideas with which to reflect on that innermost work of authenticity. But, by paying direct attention to "ontic obscuration," individuals can discover that a major driver behind their compulsive responses lies in how seriously they take those quiet impulses to be fully human or else how consistently they have avoided the inner work involved in staying human. This "ontic obscuration" underlies each compulsion in its own manner. The Slug stands at the center, having thoroughly obscured inner voices about how to be one's truest self. The Bully and the Perfectionist hear the voices dimly, but respond through a focus on externals, especially through various forms of anger they feel because things are not what they should be. The Helper, the Status Seeker, and the Sensitive Artist hear the voices, but they divert their desire to become fully human persons into Enneagram work is particularly difficult for teachers. They are tempted to devour the lore with teaching in mind, not learning. ~uly-Augtwt 199Y 523 Dunne ¯ The Enneag'ram becoming just persons whose image carries clout in the lives of o.thers. The Planner, the Accuser, and the Observer also hear the voiceS, but they divert a fear of not becoming fully human into strategies designed to protect the little bits of personhood they believe they possess.l° ¯ Naranjo refers to this approach as his "Nasruddin" theory. The story goes that this mullah was crawling around in an alley near a marketplace, searching for the key to his house. A friend joined in the search and, after finding nothing, asked the mul-lah, "Are you sure you lost the key around here?" The mullah responded, "No, I lost it at home." The friend naturally asked, "Then why are you looking for the key here?" The mullah replied, "The light is much better here." 1, The point is that we often look for the key to our house out under the sun, where everything seems clear. But the key is in the house, an~l the house is dark. The Existential Questign: How Should I Be? For all the benefits ofNaranjo's "ontic obscuration," he does not explain in precise terms what being human involves; he set-tles for a description of some effects of"obscuration." For exam-ple, "loss of a sense of I-am-ness" and "something missing inside.''12 At times he presumes that deep down people really know the experience of "ontic obscuration." At other times he claims that the obscuration itself prevents people from realizing that any kind of obscuration has occurred. So, while it is appro-priate for him to recommend that the seeker find a mentor to help recognize a compulsion, the theory would benefit also from a positive understanding of just what it is that "ontic obscura-tion" obscures. To uncover this prize, we need to reflect on how being human happens to be obscured ifi the first place. Most psychologists agree that the intellect of children develops not only in the amount of information they learn but, more significantly, in whether or not they learn certain higher-level intellectual skills for understanding their experiences. So Naranjo's "ontic obscura-tion'? indicates, not a breakdown in mental development, but rather an unfinished development. It is not a matter of having obscured what once was clear; it is a matter of having been born blind and gradually learning how to see. 524 Review for Religious The developmental problem is how to move from a world of images, behaviors, symbols, and external sensations to the larger world of meaning and values. As children we were able to pose questions about being human only by using images. Should I be pushy? Compliant? Generous? Teacherly? Observant? Like a lion? A turtle? A bird? A monkey? Early successful functioning of one of these styles sets up a habit and provides evidence that the world around us must be of such and such a nature--the one that matches our chosen strategy. To the Bully, then, the world is dog-eat- dog; to the Accuser, the world is ridden with crooks. We build up a behavioral style and support it with a cognitive belief in a par-ticular strategy like one of those described in .the enneagram: being correct, being related, being impressive, being the victim, being retentive, being wary, being pleasing, being pugnacious, or being deaf. We become capable of noticing our compulsions as such only later, when we learn that proper use of our minds and hearts is more important than proper behavior and that intelligent analy-sis and reasonable judgment put us in touch with the real world far better than myths and symbols can. Only p~ople who have learned to think about inner acts of meaning can make a statement such as "There I go again" as they catch on to unreal thinking and feeling. ~ .~ This learning represents a major jump in thinking skills. A person discovers that the world is not just "already out there.''Is The real world is also the invisible world made up of the acts of meaning that occur in people's minds and hearts: the agreements, the plans, the guiding ideas, the reigning values, the loyalties, the spites, the memories, the laws, and the internalized language of the place. Former precepts such as Be corre'ct~ Be connected, Be suc-cessful, and Be the martyr were established in the mind of a~child who had no alternative but to think with pictures and symbols. Bht, in the world of meaning and values, learning how to be human ought to transcend these image-based precepts and adopt precepts based on the functions of the mind and heart. Bernard Lonergan, the late Canadian philosopher whose Insight and Method in Theology have influenced many practitioners in the human and natural sciences, has identified five such func-tion- based precepts. They are: Be attentive, Be intelligent, Be reasonable, Be responsible, Be in love.'4 These voices are in all of us. They are active long before we notice them as distinct July-August 199Y 525 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram impuls.es. Although they still escape the notice of many psychol-ogists as being the most fundamental impulses that make us fully human, they are the living source of our ability to notice, under-stand, realize, take responsibility, and love, For Lonergan, these five precepts support a highly-structured method for the human sciences. But, for people seeking to under-stand their inner compulsions, they can also provide a normal way of referring to the task of being fully human. They can rep-resent the very operations that "ontic obscuration" obscures. These are the events that promise to bring a person to what Naranjo, in a more descriptive and less precise mode, calls "the integrated wholeness of one's experience"; "true aliveness, a sense of existing, a plenitude"; "finding value in the present and the actual.''ts These function-based ~precepts not only transcend image-based precepts; they also enable people to transcend who they are and to rise toward being who they are to be. Lonergan refers to these precepts as "the transcendental precepts." A Therapy of Love The question of how we should be does not end there. While people might rely on a diagnostic tool such as the enneagram to recognize self-defeating thoughts before they become actions, they also need a therapy to help recognize self-transcending thoughts and feelings. This means learning firsthand the differ-ence between the transcendental precepts and their opposites: between being attentive and being oblivious, being intelligent and being stupid, being reasonable and being silly, being respon-sible and being irresponsible, and being loving and being hateful. While anyone can recognize abstractly the contrast between these words, the right-hand members of the pairs conspire quite suc-cessfully to obscure their own functioning right behind our eyes. Fortunately, this conspiracy can be caught in the act. By know-ingly paying attention to the transcendental precepts, we can be more attentive to inner experience. We can be more intelligent about how certain cognitive errors and existential decisions sup-port our compulsions. We can be more reasonable as we admit the truth of how thoroughly our fixation may have dominated our psyches. We can be more responsible in accepting guilt that belongs to us, in shunning guilt that is unreasonable, and in sup-pressing what compulsions we can as they arise. Most wisely, we 526 Review for Religious can let our love for others take the lead more often, including and especially our love for God. When a person falls in love, he or she suddenly sees the exter-nal world as more beautiful, more full of potential, more worthy of respect and care. What has occurred, though, is not a change in the external world one views; it is a self-transcending change in the viewer. Being in love heals much of ~' what was crippled in the other four levels of the person's self-transcendence. That is, being in love gives courage to respon-sibility, realism to reason, insight to intel-ligence, and acumen to attention. The person has risen above the imprisoned self and realized something of the profound marvels of life, nature, and the friendly character of the universe. Love's healing power is evident in the love between friends, within a family, and among fellow citizens and members of a group. It is also evident in the love of God. People who have undergone a religious conversion, whether in a sudden inner revolution or a gradual takeover, experience three new powers. The~y see goodness where the unconverted see only evil. They feel a power to reach out to others at a higher risk to themselves than self-protecting reason would allow. And, after the worst setbacks, they find themselves soon on their feet, mys-teriously alive and submissive to the impulse to love again26 More can be said about the healing effects of religious love, but this milch illustrates how an analysis of our self-transcending acts clar-ifibs'what "being human" means and reveals the available powers that "o'ntic obscuration" obscures. Further analysis along these lines would complement any instance of healing with a thera-peutic theory consistent with religious love. Notice especially how the addition of this account of self-transcendence avoids the typi~cal trap of self-help psychologies. It makes clear that people do not help themselves all by them-selves. When i't is the self that needs help, "self-help" is a con-tradiction in terms. Genuine help must be imported. We rely on each other and we rely on God. In order to let go of our worries that our failures will be someh6w held against us, we rely on the fact that we are loved. Being in love gives courage to responsibility, realism to reason, insight to intelligence, and acumen to attention. Ju~-August199y 527 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram The work of making all this real for oneself is long and hard. It might go something like this: Suppose I typically play the Sensitive Artist, envious of the personas of others and absorbing my injuries in quiet melancholy. I should first keep a diary to log the times I notice my compulsion at work, in order to grow in the habit of noticing, t~nderstanding~ and gradually realizing how precisely my frustrated desire to be a notable person works. (Naranjo suggests that this work on autobiography may take three or four months.) ~7 At the same time, as I grow in self-realization, I should grow in self-responsibility. When I hear the inner voice saying "Be sensitive, be like so-and-so," I should say "Shut up!" and then bend an ear to the quieter voices of authenticity whis-pering, "Just be attentive, intelligent, reasonable, responsible, and in love. Being that is a quite good enough way to be your best." Then, alongside the inner work of self-reflection, I should let myself connect with others. Although Naranjo believes that his book can help a person avoid high-minded and patronizing therapists, I find it hard to imagine people really benefiting from it unless they talk about this inner work with others. Being con-nected to others means obeying the transcendental precept to Be in love. That means letting my love for others be the light that revdals what is truly worth doing, rather than mere consistency or some private ethical principle. Because genuine love heals irre-sponsibility, silliness, stupidity, and inattention, the test of genuine love will be just that: Does it make me more responsible, more ready to face truth, more functionally intelligent, more on the lookout for what really counts? If it does not, it is not love. The inner work also means letting myself be loved. For most of us, with our distorted self-images, this means facing the fact that despite our faults, despite the injuries we have caused others, the person who claims to love us is telling the truth. It means dropping the flimsy defense that "you don't really know me" and admitting that the point is not whether we are fully known, but whether we are appreciated and valued for ourselves. It means realizing that we will never be perfect, that we do not need to expend that much energy defending ourselves, that we do not even need to "fix" ourselves through diligent self-therapy. Unless we rely on God and other people for forgiveness, tolerance, and patience, no pathology or self-help therapy will work. This is only an example of finding our way home. Different people will find different paths. But at least knowing what being 528 Review.for Religious human is about shows us what our home looks like. Gradually-- never fully being, but always becoming, human--we will have returned. We can come in and go out as we please. We will have found our home's key: the house is no longer dark. Notes ~ Enneagram, coined from Greek, means "ninefold marking." 2 Capital means that the sins are principal or "head" (capita) sins from which people's other sins flow. Althofigh the enneagram seems to have arisen independently of the Christian tradition, seven of its compulsions match the seven capital sins. The remaining two are bogus morality (Accuser) and bogus success (Status Seeker). 3 No two authors agree on these generic names, but there is general agreement about the descriptions of each type~ Devotees often refer just to the number, as in "She's a raving Two!" (a Helper). 4 See C.G. Jung, Paychological Types (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1926), chap. 10. Isabel Briggs Myers and her mother, Katharine C. Briggs, developed the fourth pair of preferences, judging and perceiv-ing, based on further observations made byJung. Note that they realize that its usefulness applies mainly to the young. See Isabel Briggs Myers, Introduction to Type (Gainesville, Florida: Center for Publications' of Psychological Types, 1962), p. 8. s The works on which I have based my remarks are: Maria Beesing et al., The Enneagram: A Journey of Self Discovery (Denville: Dimension Books, 1984); Kathleen Hurley and Theodore Dobson, What's My Type? Use the Enneagram and My Best Self (HarperSanFrancisco, 1991 and 1993); Claudio Naranjo, Ennea-Type Structures: Self-Analysis for the Seeker and Character and Neurosis: An Integrative View (Nevada City: Gateways, 1990 and 1994); Helen Pahner, The Enneagram (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988); Don Richard Riso, Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987). I have also relied on various notes taken by students participating in workshops given by Naranjo and others who derive the substance of their doctrine from him. 6 An exception'is Hurley and Dobson, My Best Self, identifying two distinct compulsions in both the Status Seeker and the Accuser, making a total of eleven compulsions. In .any case, there are no enneagram the-orists I know of who have dealt with the fundamental problem of how to set a limit to types. If there is such a limit, then the types will have to be defined by a set of psychological conditions that are limited and verifiable. For example, Karen Horney's division of three reactions to conflict (against people, toward people, away from people) might be matched against three I-world comparisons (bigger than, equal to, smaller than) to generate exactly nine types. Or against the trio Denial, Overconfidence, Underconfidence. The trio Ignorance, Craving, and Fear seems to under-lie Naranjo's thinking. There are many possibilities. This kind of work will 3~ly-August 1995 529 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram be necessary if the professional psychological community is ever to give credence to the theory and, more to the point, if the theory is ever to be shown to explain the actual range of human compulsions. 7 Gurdjieff, the teacher of this model of personality, claims to have discovered the enneagram in the Sufi tradition, but there is little evi-dence in Sufism of any of the heavy interpretative overlay that it now carries. Gurdjieff's confidence in the diagram seems based on numerol-ogy rather than experiment, and he expected that the diagram could rep-resent any human or natural process. 8 Diagnostic and Stat#tical Manual of Mental Disorders III (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association, 1987). 0 9 See Albert Ellis, Reason and Emotion in Psychotherapy (New York: Lyle Stuart, 1963), chap. 3, "Irrational Ideas Which Cause and Sustain Emotional Disturbances," pp, 60-88. l0 The reader should note inconsistencies in the enneagram designs. In Naranjo's Character and Neurosis, pp. 199 and 245, and throughout his Ennea-Type Structures, the triangle arrows run clockwise. Everywhere else in Character and Neurosis, they run counterclockwise. tt Naranjo, Ennea-Type Structures, pp. xix-xx, and Character and Neurosis, p 36. Hereafter page references will be to Ennea-Type Structures, with corresponding references to Character and Neurosis in italics. ~2 See pp. 30/61 and 63/219. He also describes ontic obscuration as: "obscuration . . . of the natural, original, and truest support for one's sense of personal value" (45/196); "the universal pain of fallen con-sciousness, beyond type-bound characteristics" (45/196); "lack of ground-ingin being" (107/197); and "loss of wholeness and sense of being" (138/150). o 13 Walter Burghardt SJ notes that John Courtney Murray relies on this distinction to clarify how weak the old Catholic reliance on dogma-tism really was. See "The Richness of a Resource," in A Spirituality for Contemporary Life, ed. David L. Fleming SJ (St. Louis: Review for Religious, 1991). Murray may well have relied on Lonergan's Insight (New York: Philosophical Library, 1958) for this notion (for which, see real in its index). 14 See Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), pp. 53, 55, and passim. I have developed these notions more at length in Lonergan and Spirituality (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1985) and Spiritual Mentoring (HarperSanFrancisco, 199 I). Is Naranjo, pp. 47/197, 92/94, and 125/173. 16 These powers are traditionally called faith, charity, and hope. I have avoided the traditional terms in an effort to avoid conceptualism and to make clear how religious love heals the injured psyche. 17 Naranjo, p. 158/275. 530 Review for Religious MARY WINIFRED Imaging Spiritual Direction Ipn spite of a plethora of spiritual direction programs pur-orting to train those who would be spirithal directors, it remains a fact that gifts of direction are just that--gifts, not learned skills. Spiritual direction involves listening and hearing, discernment, clarity of vision, and assistance in the development of a relationship between an 'individual and God. While learned skills may assist a spiritual director, it is only deep sensitivity devel-oped through years of personal prayer that enables true spiritual direction. It is often easier to say what spiritual direction is not, than to describe what it is. For example, spiritual direction is not psychotherapy; it is not life skills taught by a social worker; it is not catechistic training for specific church membership. " In a pamphlet entitled Spiritual Direction, Henri Nouwen says: "It is of great value to submit our prayer life from time to time to the supervision of a spiritual guide. A spiritual director in this strict sense is not a counselor, a therapist, or an analyst, but a mature fellow Christian to whom we choose to be accountable for our spiritual life and from whom we can expect prayerful guid-ance in our constant struggle to discern God's active presence in our lives, A spiritual director can be called 'soul friend' (Kenneth I2eech) or a" 'spiritual friend' (Tilden Edwards). It is important that he or she practice the disciplines of the Church and the Book and thus become familiar with.the space in which we try to listen to God's voice. The way we relate to our spiritual director depends very much on our needs, our personalities, and external circum-stances. Some people may want to see their spiritual director Mary Winifred CtlS is the Sister-in-Charge of St. Cuthbert's Retreat House; Federal Hill Road; Brewster, New York 10509. ¯ July-August 199Y S31 Winifred ¯ Imaging Spiritual Direction biweekly or monthly, others will find it sufficient to be in touch only when the occasion asks for it. Some people may feel the need for a more extensive sharing with their spiritual director, while others will find seeing him or her once in a while for a few short moments to be sufficient. It is essential that one Christian helps another Christian to enter without fear into the presence of God and there to discern God's call" (8-9). Because the singular aim of spiritual direction is to assist in growth toward God, there are no set guidelines, no conventional measuring sticks, no right or wrong answers, and no concretely attainable goals. While training in prayer and meditation may certainly make one a more articulate spiritual director, neverthe-less spiritual direction remains a vocation unfettered by rules and regulations, by industry standards, or by a financial fee scale. Most spiritual directees practice St. Paul's suggestion in the Letter to the Galatians, "Those who are taught the word must share in all good things with their teacher" (6:6), by making some gift to their directors: homemade bread, flowers from the garden, a book or tape, or some other item; money does not usually enter into a spiritual direction agreement, nor should it. Unlike therapy or counseling, which are professional relationships between a ther-apist or counselor and a client, spiritual direction is a relation-ship of charity and generosity between fellow Christians. Spiritual gifts cannot be purchased; they are not for sale. Three images of the spiritual life may help to indicate ways in which the presence of a director (or mentor or soul friend) may effectively aid us in our growth Godwards. The first image, offered by Thomas H. Green, is :that of a marketplace. The marketplace--or, as Green also labels it, the ldtchen!--is the part of our lives that encompasses a multitude of small, necessary, sometimes tedious tasks which can seem to draw us away from the richness and quiet of our interior lives. "Frequently," Green says, "the demands and frustrations of the apostolate, or of raising a family and earning a living, seem to be merely obstacles to a genuine and deep prayer life. But if I am right in explaining the way the Lord works through these exter-nal activities and events, then we should see them quite differ-ently. Far from being obstacles to our interior growth, they become for us the very sandpaper of our sanctification, at least as important to our growth as what happens in the solitude of for-mal prayer" (121). 532 Review for Religious These are not particularly comfortable thoughts, especially for those of~us who would like to discover a large block of unin-terrupted quiet. Often it is only with the help of a wise spiritual director that we can begin to uncover and acknowledge the wealth of spiritual graces hidden in our routine daily tasks and to see opportunities in what have earlier appeared to be only obstacles. Another, who listens with detached concern, will not only listen to the occasional frustration, tiredness, or boredom in our every-day tasks, but will also hear the voice of God calling to us from what may, on the surface, seem to be 'merely dull routine. As surely as God works in this world, God is also available to us in our work, however .tedious and distracting our marketplace--or kitchen--may feel at times. Another ancient and popular image for the spiritual life is that of a journey or pilgrimage. John Gorsuch describes such a spiri-tual journey as a moving out from a place of assumed comfort, beckoned on by God into the unknown. The image of a journey is particularly apt if considered in its various stages: there is a beginning, with its preparations and planning; the travel itself; and the goal of the journey. In the early stages of beginning a journey, there may be excitement and feverish planning--a guide is helpful here in focusing our attention and helping us to leave behind our unnecessary baggage. I once watched my sister prepar-ing for a backpacking trip: with the advice of an experienced back-packer friend, she was encouraged to take only the essential objects, leaving her backpack light enough to carry and yet stocked with exactly what she would need. But traveling, no matter how well it is planned and prepared, is nevertheless an adventure into the unknown. Often we must stop to ask for directions or other help. In traveling this may be as simple as "Yes, you're on the right road" or "Two more blocks Because the singular aim of spiritual direction is to assist in growth toward God, there are no set guidelines, no conventional measuring sticks, no right or wrong answers, and no concretely attainable goals. July-August 199Y 533 Winifred ¯ Imaging Spiritual Direction and then turn left"; on a spiritual journey, as simple as "Keep lis-tening in your prayer" or "Look in the mirror every morning: you will see a person God loves profoundly." If we are fortunate enough to have a good and reliable guide or director, we are soon back on track. At times, too, the journey's route may seem long and wearisome--turning aside or even giving up altogether may look like the most positive option. Then a wise mentor's word of encouragement may challenge and enliven us to continue with new energy and zeal. And then there is the goal to our journey. Sometimes we are so caught up in the travel itself that we lose sight of the goal. A friend and I once planned to spend a restful week together; iron-ically, we also planned too many sight-seeing activities, with the result that the true goals of the week--to ,rest and enjoy each other's company--were lost. So, on a spiritual journey, it is easy to be distracted by circumstances and surroundings from our true goal of knowing God. We need a wise and discerning director to help us in maintaining a clarity of vision about our goal. A third image is that of epiphany. Adrian van Kaam, from whom I have borrowed this image, describes an epiphany as the "shining forth of eternity in daily people, in often unnoticed events and things" (8). It is an epiphany that comes through in the openness and vulnerability of spiritual direction. Van Kaam goes on to say: "The risen Lord is our life now. Our life must become a hymn of praise to Jesus rising in us . Jesus tells us that the kingdom of God is at hand in each of us. It is already here and now, for we are called to share his resurrection in humanity and history" (65). And surely this is the heart of spiritual direction, that one Christian shares freely with another a word of help, a message of encouragement, a glimpse of eternity. Bibliography Gorsuch, John R An Invitation to the Spiritual Journey. Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1990. Green, Thomas H. Darkness in the Marketplace. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1981. Nouwen, Henri. Spiritual Direction. Cincinnati: Forward Movement Publications, 1981. Van Kaam, Adrian. The Music of Eternity. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1990, 534 Review for Religious MARY C. SULLIVAN The Brazier That Is My God: Teresa on True Prayer's Dispositions, Gifts, and Signs It is 2 June 1577. Teresa of Avila is, in effect, under house arrest in the convent of the Discalced Carmelites in Toledo, Spain--a community she founded in 1569.1 She has been on the road for almost ten years, establishing reformed monasteries of Carmelite women and even of Carmelite men committed to the poverty, silence, soli-tude, penance, prayer, and detachment she believes are envisioned in the primitive Rule. But now for the last year she has been ordered to remain in one of her convents (she chooses Toledo) because of political tensions between the Calced and Discalced Carmelites. She is regarded by the Calced as a ringleader who must be kept out of cir-culation. To add to her isolation, on 18 June 1577 the papal nuncio Nicol~is Ormaneto, who has been friendly to the reform, will die, and his successor, Felipe Sega, will come to Spain in August already prejudiced against Teresa and her work. He will later call her "a. restless gadabout woman, disobedient and stubborn, who under the cloak of devotion invented wicked opinions, going about breaking enclosure, contrary to the decree of the Council of Trent and the orders of her superiors, teaching as if she were a doctor, in contempt of the teaching of St. Paul, who com-manded women not to teach."2 Mary C. Sullivan RSM works in the College of Liberal Arts of Rochester Institute of Technology. She may be addressed at Sisters of Mercy; 18 Upton Park; Rochester, New York 14607. heritage j~uly-August 1995 535 Sullivan ¯ The Brazier That Is My God Prologue But now, in early June 1577, during her enforced reclusion, Teresa is in Toledo, writing a book on prayer at the request of her confessor, Jer6nimo Gracifin, a Discalced priest. By the end of July, after one month of work on Las Moradas (The Interior Castle, or The Dwelling Places3), she will be recalled to Avila, where against her own desire she has again been elected prioress of Incarnation, the Carmelite convent she entered as a young woman and from which in 1562 she will found San Jos4, the first convent of the Reform, across town in Avila. But the Carmelite authorities do not want Teresa to be the prioress of Incarnation. They will call for a second vote, and when fifty-four sisters at Incarnation persist in electing Teresa, these sisters will be ex-communicated and denied the sacraments. On 3 December of this same year, John of the Cross, the confessor and spiritual director at Incarnation, will be abducted from Avila at night by Calced friars and taken to the windowless closet cell in the Toledo monastery of the Calced Carmelites where he will remain impris-oned for six months. Simultaneous with all this, the modern form of the Spanish Inquisition is in full swing in Seville, having been operating as a powerful ecclesiastical tribunal for almost a hundred years. The manuscript of Teresa's Life has been in the Inquisition's possession for two years, after being denounced to it by the dis-appointed and vindictive Princess of Eboli.4 In the midst of all this difficulty, most of which deeply dis-tressed her, in the six-month period from 2 June to 29 November 1577 (which will actually amount to only two months of writing time), Teresa will start and complete her masterwork, The Dwelling Places, the treatise on prayer and virtue which more than any other of her writings led Pope Paul VI in 1970 to declare her a doctor of the universal church. Not once in this volume does Teresa refer explicitly to the external affairs which weigh so heavily on her mind and heart, though her letters of this period amply demon-strate her concern, and dismay. Rather, in this magnificent book about a human person's gradually increasing communion with the God dwelling within her, Teresa speaks about the prayer of per-sonal conversion, the prayer of reordering and reordered charity within the human heart. And so The Dwelling Places is a book which may contribute immeasurably to the present-day conversion of the church, of religious life, and of the hearts of individual Christian women and men. 536 Review for Reli

Issue 41.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1982. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1982 by REVIEW FOR REI.~G~OOS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR REt,IGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Jan./ Feb., 1982 Volume 41 Number 1 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW I"OR RE~.IGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 541h St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints shoul.d be ordered from Rt:v,Ew Vo8 RE~oIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindetl Blvd.; St. L~uis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Review for Religious Volume 41, 1982 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1982 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. The Art of Wasting Time: Thoughts on the Expropriation of Leisure James W. Heisig Father Heisig, of the Society of the Divine Word, is a Permanent Fellow of the Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture, General editor of its book series on East-West thought and Associate Professor of Humanities at the Nan:an University. His address: Nan:an Institute for Religion and Culture: 18, Yamazato-cho. Showa-ku: Nagoya, Japan'. In modern industrialized nations, time is thought of as an investment commodity with a fluid market value. The power of time to cure all ills that the ancient Greek proverb celebrated has been drained from it to reduce time to disposable mer-chandise within our control. Some people's time is now worth more than other people's time because they know how to use time .profitably, that is, to achieve maximum production with minimum consumption. The ideal management of time is measured by cost-benefit analysis. As a consumer commodity, time is also unevenly distributed: some people now possess more time than others, which they are free to invest wisely or foolishly. It does not take much reflection to appreciate how the metaphor of "annual income,"the most Oniversal measure of the relative value of time, has crept its way into the modern imagination and laden words once rich in personal meanings with the double entendre of economic connotations. And that is as true in the world of business as it is in the world of religious or humanitarian devotion to an ideal. We hear it said that the fund~.mental shock occasioned by the increased pace of modei'n living is that shorter and shorter periods of time enable us to achieve the same things that former civilizations took much longer to achieve, which in turn produces the need for constant novelty. In fact, we do notachieve the same things at all. By submitting time and human needs to new s.tandards, the quality of life 3 4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 itself has been altered and important spiritual values siphoned off as waste. The trip across the Sinai that took the ancient Israelites forty years to complete would hardly take forty minu~tes today from t~ikeoff to landing. But whereas their voyage was a.journey that transformed a band of refugees into a people of God, ours is reduced to a mere change of location that takes place too quickly to effect any but the most superficial of insights. For us, time wasted in travel, in the use of outmoded tools, and in the inefficient use of resources and personnel is money flushed down the drain. On the one hand, time well spent promises the reward of time to spare; but on the other, the time that we have saved is only of value if it, too, is well spent. The result is that leisure has become a luxury item, with less to be found among workers today than there was among the slaves of ancient Greece and Rome. In such circUmstances, it has become easy to market time-measuring devices for popular use that approximate the precision of scientific equipment. A wrist-watch that takes time to wind and has to be reset once a week is an anachronism to the modern mind. The practical advantages of such accuracy are fictitious, but the ideological advantage is very real. We are so firmly locked into the modern myth of time that the thought of unclocking oneself, even for the purposes of relaxation, has become the moral equivalent of undressing in public. The idea of time that has colonized the habits of thought that gird the institu-tions of modem society--school, church, business, entertainment, travel, health care, politics, social action--has wrought a spiritual impoverishment on our native sensibilities. The reverence for free time Freizeit and leave from labor (leisure) has not disappeared, but its motivations have shifted. The important wisdom that time belongs among the "best thing~ of life" that cannot be bought and sold, that belong to all of us as our common human right, and that are their own reward, is in peril. The expropriation of leisure by the consumer ethos is one of the most harmful ideas that pollute modern consciousness and obstruct the construction of an equitable and sustainable global community. Instead of having time for oneself, time for the earth, and time for the human race, we have become content with having time to consume the goods and services manufactured in other sectors of society. We have come to think of time as a nonrenewable resource, and lost the art of wasting it lavishly for our spiritual well-being. Deliverance from this state of affairs begins with learning to make transparent the myth of time that we inhabit unawares. And onestep in that direction, it seems to me, is to have a look at some of the things we no longer seem to have much time for. Time for Oneself The story is told of a certain clergyman who went to see the famous psycholo-gist, C. G. Jung, complaining of an impending nervous breakdown. His story was a familiar one. Working fourteen hours a day to fill up his life of service with meaning, he found only a spiritual tiollowness to his work. The harder he worked, the more tasks he took on, the more his nerves stood on end, threatening at any moment to shatter through the fragile mask of the busy pastor and expose his The Art of Wasting Time hypocrisy. 3ung's advice was simplicity itself; he was to work a mere eight-hour day, go home and spent his evenings quietly in his study alone. Unconvinced of the wisdom of .lung's counsel, but sufficiently agonized to have no other recourse, the man made up his mind to follow the prescription to the letter. He worked his eight hours, returned to the parish house for supper, then retired behind the closed doors of his study for the rest of the evening. Some time later he returned to see .lung, reporting that, alas, the remedy had been a complete failure. Spiritually he was worse off than before, and the parish had fallen into disarray for want of attention. He had done everything just as he had been told, but to no avail. "What did you do in your study?" Jung asked. "Well, let's see, the first night I finished a Herman Hesse novel and listened to some Chopin l~tu~les. After that I read some Thomas Mann and listened to a Mozart sonata. Next I . . ." "But you didn't understand," .lung broke in. "I didn't want you to spend your time reading novels and listening to music. I wanted you to be alone with yourself.""Oh, but 1 couldn't stand it. i make such bad company," the pastor replied. "Aha! Now we see the problem," said .lung. "That very self that you can't stand for even a short period is the same self you have been inflicting on others for fourteen hours a day.~ The pastor's problem and the way he set out trying to cure it both belong to a level of cultural development that can only be called elite. The freedom to opt for a fourteen:l~our work day and drive oneself to psychological tatters, and then to reduce one's time of labor by 40% for the sake of spiritual hygiene; the possibility of consulting a professional therapist and paying for the service; the ability to read classic literature and appreciate classical music--all of these things belong to a style of life unthinkable to the great masses of humanity, who do not work for ends supererogatory to survival that can be dispensed with when body or soul collapses, but work to keep alive, and great numbers of them successfully. I do not mean to imply that the man's problem was not a real one, or that it should be classified, along with cosmetic surgery and Caribbean cruises, as needs bred of boredom or surfeit. I mean only that, like all spiritual problems, its roots reach over into problematic social structures as well, whose repair requires more attention to one's own soul. Of this, more shall be said later. What 'lung showed the pastor about himself, and what many of those who share his general cultural field can readily identify with, is that people will often go to extraordinary lengths to avoid having to look at themselves without a role to play. The crises of meaninglessness.that had attacked his work spread over into his leisure because of a common fundamental bias that value can only be generated by keeping busy at a socially acceptable task. In each case, he fled what he feared would do him more harm than anything else: his deep dislike of himself. In his work, the pretense of altruism threw up a thick smoke screen, almost as if deliber-ately to cloud the problem; and in his leisure the pretense of polishing up his education protected and reinforced the hollow ideals he could never quite recog-nize as his own. "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." Before one embraces those words as a commanded task, they need first to be accepted as a statement of fact: like it or not, one cannot love another if one does not first love oneself. And 6 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 there is no way to love oneself if one does everything possible to avoid spending time with oneself. The pastor's abuse of leisure meant that leisure was not a freeing time but an enslaving time. Instead of serving as a re-creational balance to the creativity of his work, it bound him more firmly to the estrangement he felt between his own innermost beliefs and his outward devotedness. The proper use of leisure, on the other hand, demands the capacity to turn solitariness into solitude, not to dread it as a mere isolation from things that have value. If there are human values that daily life and work sterilize conscience against, and if those values are truly the eradicable imprint of the divine on the soul of each individual, then the deliverance of the human from the inhumanity of which it is capable begins with a transforma-tion in perspective metanoia towards oneself. And that takes time, leisure time. To be denied that time to waste on oneself, or to deny it to oneself, is to forsake redemption from the common habits of evil that we all participate in unawares. Time for the Earth A second dimension on which our~modern myth of time has expropriated the functions of leisure is that of our relationship to nature. In order to get to the core of this problem, 1 should like to cite a story from the Inner Chapters bf Chuang- Tzu, the Chinese mystic and Taoist philosopher of the fourth century before the Christian era. It is a story about a certain master carpenter named Stone and his apprentice, and how they happened one day to encounter the truth about worth-less trees. It seems that on one of their voyages the two chanced to pass by a gigantic oak tree standing by a local village shrine. The young apprentice stopped short and stood aghast with awe at the towering majesty of the tree, whose trunk he thought must measure a hundred spans in girth, and whose branches were so immense that at least ten of them he reckoned could surely be carved into boats. But the master Stone just stalked off ahead without so much as giving the tree a second glance. Catching him up, the apprentice inquired of him why a carpenter should pass up such timber, more splendid than any he had seen since taking up his axe. "Stop!" the master rebuked him. "The tree is useless. A boat made from it would sink, a coffin would soon rot, a tool would split, a door would ooze sap, and a beam would have termites. It is worthless timber and is of no use. That is why it has reached such a ripe old age." That night the oak,tree appeared to the carpenter Stone in a dream and complained of being compared with useful trees that are stripped and pruned and robbed of their fruits or cut down in their prime because they attract the attentions of the common world. "As for me, I have been trying for a long time to be useless. I was almost destroyed several times, Finally I am useless, and this is very useful to me. if I had been useful, could 1 have.ever grown so large? Besides, you and I are both things. How can one thing judge another thing? What does a dying and worthless man like you know about a worthless tree?" The next day, when the °The Art of Wasting Time apprentice heard of the dream, he was puzzled. "If it had so great a desire to be useless, why does it serve as a shrine?" This time the master took up. the cause of the tree. "It is just pretending to be one so that it will not be hurt by those who do not know that it is useless. If it had not been a sacred tree, it would probably have been cut down. It protects itself in a different way from ordinary things. We will miss the point if we judge it in the ordinary way." Let us say the carpenter Stone, with his "ordinary way" of looking at things, is a type of technological men and women whose tools have so eclipsed their direct contact with nature that they can no longer revere the world except as something "useful" for their equipment. As the tree reminds the carpenter in his dream, however, there are values that go beyond the useful, beyond the values that civilizations assign to things when they judge them to be worth our "while." These values reach deep beneath the differences that separate the human from the rest of the earth, to the point of geocentric unity that was broken with the anthropocent-ric revolt against being merely a thing among other things. They reach beyond the divisions of means and ends into which people classify everything about them. Insight into such values begins with learning t9 listen to the earth, something whose importance we are only now rediscovering after a century of industrial progress. Even so, we have the greatest of difficulty in unplugging ourselves from the apparatus we have built to mediate our way to nature. The world is still viewed by and large as raw material for human civilization. We struggle to keep our environment free of pollution because we fear the spread of disease among people and the poisoning of our food. We lobby against the mindless pillage of forests because we fear the effects of soil erosion on our buildings and landscaping. We protect the wilderness because we need somewhere to "get away from it all." These are reasons that make sense to a civilized mind, but do not satisfy it quite yet. We still want more sense than that. Increasing numbers (especially those for whom there is no economic danger involved) are finding it therapeutic to sympathize with the plight of species endangered by hunting or the destruction of natural habitats. Others are relearning to use the tools that scientific advance had thought to render into museum pieces. Something like a spirituality of the earth is coming to birth, but its douleurs d'enfantement are spasmodic and uncomfortable in the extreme. Perhaps the major reason that the developed industrial nations of the world do not yet have time for the earth is that their livelihood depends on a world frag-mented according to its utility for tools, and on a work force of specialists who literally feed off of one or the other fragment. The kit of tools that provides us with our ordinary way of looking at the earth functions not only because it represents a considerable extension of the power of the human body--legs into automobiles, voices into radio waves, eyes into telescopes, arms into cranes, and so forth, in the great caricature that humanity has made of its own image--but also because it succeeds in devaluing any other way of looking at life and work. While this has made impressive leaps in scientific and technical progress possi-ble, it has also taken its toll on the human spirit in the form of a massive addiction I~ / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 to packaged, processed experiences of the earth. We seek respite from the drudgery of working at our own specialized task only to find ourselves consuming the product of someone else's specialization. The woman who sits from morning to night on an assembly line at a canning factory learns to put up with the boredom and servility of her labor by concentrating on the privileges it will give her through the money she earns. Come vacation time, she happily skips into a great steel can sealed in Los Angeles and opened in Hawaii, clutching her five-nights-six-days-cut- rate-holiday plan around which she has organized her hopesof regaining some of the dignity she had to forfeit in order to afford the trip in the first place. She may well spend her whole life without noticing 'that she is being sold on the earth in entertainment-packages by an industry that depends on people not being able to experience the beauties and pleasures of nature without their help. Such contact with nature, far from helping one to recover the basic human demand for creativity and meaning in work, only reinforces the same feelings of impotence, ignorance, and strangeness in the face of the complex machinery and bureaucracy that has come between people and the earth. From the point of view of those who have forgotten that demand, such time may be considered very well spent, very useful, and very recreational. But it is not the freeing time of leisure because it does not so much as waste a moment on trying to step outside the ordinary way of looking at the earth, to see nature once again from the inside as it were, as something valuable in itself. Time for the Human Race In addition to the estrangement from oneself and estrangement from the earth, there is a third dimension on which our myth of time has expropriated the dower of wasted time, namely estrangement from our own race. We who compose essays on electric typewriters and subscribe to journals on the spiritual life tend to forget that the technology we take for granted is still experienced as an oppression by the vast majority of human beings. Consciously it is felt as the oppression of neglect at the hands of those who dwell in the economic penthouses of the global commun-ity. Unconsciously it is felt as the oppression of envy for the equipment and the life style of affluence and the accompanying disgust with their own primitive enjoy-ments. For all the commonsense wisdom contained in the counsel that money cannot buy happiness, and that more often than not it only multiplies the possibili-ties for unhappiness, both the rich of the earth and the poor are agreed that it is a misery they would prefer risking. The consumer ethos that pervades and sustains a high level of technology at the top of the human pyramid also pervades and sustains the grotesque want under which most of our kind are forced to live. - By far the greatest part of the human community has no opportunity for employing the technological tools that are now transforming the fac~ of the planet, and in many cases do not even know that they exist. Those who use jet transporta-tion are an absolute aristocracy; for every one of them there are several thousands who have never ridden a bicycle. The number of illiterates in the world still far The Art of Wasting 7~me / 9 outnumbers the number of those who even own radios; and the number of people who own television sets is far lower than the number of those whose annual income does not reach the cost of a television. The rest of humanity, for which individuals in the developed world have no time, have fallen into conditions made more difficult to escape by the surfeit that one small portion of the world enjoys. At the base of the human pyramid there are ~hundreds of millions living on the borderlands of vegetation and death, which in turn belongs to a group of nearly one billion people whom we have now come to speak of as the fourth world. Above them is the third world, over half of which lives in a poverty they have no hope of remedying, yet a poverty tortured by the knowledge that some of the race spend their lives struggling to acquire still greater surpluses of luxury, and to glut themselves with still more of the already maldis-tributed fruits of the earth. Those who are born and bred in life at the top of the pyramid have little practical feeling for the current inhumanity that is ravaging most of the race. They find it easier to imagine science-fictional futures than to imagine the present reality, let alone to image their own complicity in the way things are. They may watch documentaries about starvation in Africa or floods in Asia, but fail to make any connection when they book passage the next day for a tour in the Yucatfin. Or perhaps better, they have allowed their.questions to be silenced by the whole tangle of government and economic organizations that constantly complain of how com-plicated everything is. They may know that the budget of New York State, with its twelve million people, exceeds that of India with its six hundred million, and perhaps even permit themselves a sigh of pity; but they entrust the sorting out of injustices to the experts who have been trained to worry about such things. All the privileged of the earth know for sure is. that they have no objection to others sharing in their style of life, provided it does not make any demands on theirown appetities. Clearly, this is not enough. Within a generation we shall have six billion people on the earth, with five billion of them living in poverty. The tactic of indifference, which amounts to a war of the few against the many, kills and dehumanizes more effectively than any weapon we have yet dared to use. But it is running out of time. As the poor arm themselves with the surplus of our .stockpiles, sold off cheaply to make way for more advanced weaponry, we cannot suppose that they will forever remain content with waging war among themselves. The smaller and more concen-trated the centers of wealth become throughout the world, the more vulnerable they become to the masses of those who have been trained to be jealous of what others are free to consume. The urgency of the situation, however, is not of itself enough to guarantee the quality of any and every attempt to alleviate it. Just as time for the self and time for the earth tend to get absorbed without remainder into time for the consumption of luxuries advertised as refreshment from working time, so time for the human race all too readily gets twisted into the donation of services that perpetuate the spirit-ual impoverishment of the technological world by camouflaging it behind an 10 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 idiom of charity. Those who are touched with a sense of pity for the maldistribu-tion of wealth and feel the pressure to help, all too frequefitly lack the requisite insight into their own patterns of thought to realize how their aid can amount to the substitution of one form of dehumanization for another. In providing hospi-tals, schools, factories, and modern transport for the underprivileged (that is, for those denied the right to consume culture as we consume it), the donor organiza-tions narrow their responsibilities down tc~ the unilaterial sharing of goods and values. The possibility that alternate social systems, now' rendered obsolete, unproductive, and unsustainable by the current management of the world's resources, may have something to, teach the human community about liberation from the consumer ethos is pushed to one side in the rush to make amends for gluttony overcome with guilt in the face of deprivation. I1: the price of providing bread for the world is further investment in the current means of producing and distributing bread, then bread for the world there will never be. The economics of this are fairly intricate, but the direct ratio th~it obtains between the number of people who are starving to death and the increased number of organizations and agencies aimed at distributive justice is plain enough to see. A leisure that is freeing for the human race is not simply time given free of cost by the haves to the have-nots, but a time for withdrawal from the ruling myth of time. It must, in the first pla~e, be a waste of tilne altogether free of investments economic or ideological, time wasted on the whole of the race, ourselves included. Of all the forms of leisure, this is the one that has become most radically enslaved to the biases of working time, despite the way in which improved means of communication have enabled an altogether new image of the universal h~]man family. There may be no greater constriction of.the imagination in the history of human thought about world order than that of the present day face-off in devel-oped industrial nations between the philanthropic illusion of the rich nations of the world opening their storehouses to share with the poor on the one hand, and the financial illusion of increasing productivity to the point of being able to sell more goods more cheaply without monetary loss on the other. And this, too, is a mark of grave spiritual immaturity. The Reappropriation of Leisure If I have left a good deal in the previous pages to innuendo and only hints of an explanation of how leisure time has become victimized by the spread of consumer metaphors, it was not only to condense a manifold problem into a few words, but also to prepare for what 1 wish to propose by way of conclusion. Simply put, it comes to this: that only the personal awakening of increasing numbers of individ-uals to the considerable loss sustained by civilization in its forward march into technology can provide the footings for a modern spirituality, and that only the redemption of leisure time from its servility to current structures of thought can provide the conditions for such awakening. The reappropriation of the need for leisure--an unadvertised, unprofitable, and withal revolutionary need--begins with the individual or it does not begin at all. No one can stand l~roxy for another's The Art of Wasting Time spiritual conversion. No expertise can service a society with personal insight, judgment, and decision. For it is not so much concession to the logic of particular conclusions that is the point, but the recovery of the process of working one's own way out of familiar biases. This process hinges on the art of wasting time. In the first place, leisure time should nurture a spirit of resistance to the humors of resignation that poison the bloodstream of industrial society. It should increase one's resistance to the workaday bias that the submission and trust due divine providence, for having cast us into a world with hopes in our hearts too big for our abilities, should be extended into a submission and trust in social provi-dence, for having spun a web of institutions so tightly about us that we are powerless to do much more than lay a hand across our inquisitive mouths and adjust as best we can. From the point of view of the world of time where work gets done, free time that results in raising basic questions about that world is not only wasted time, it is counterproductive. No doubt a life in which leisure means nothing but filling up with comforts and entertainments the hollow gouged out of the soul by resignation to the complexities of modern life is an ideal few, if any, would Openly champion. But the fact is, the bare physical need for periodic reinvigoration always has a spiritual dimension to it as well, and in industrial society that spiritual dimension tends to vacillate between the reinforcement of patterns of passive consumption of relaxation and spare-time thoughts about better pay, shorter hours, or increased benefits. In either case, it remains subser-vient to the structures of work and effectively concedes defeat to their power. It lacks re-creativity. This is the idolatry, of epidemic proportions, that afflicts the spirituality of technological society. Second, in order to offer this sort of recreational resistance to the spirit of resignation, time wasted in leisure should be an abandon to the spirit of playful-ness. I use that word in a broader sense than either the games of children or the athletics of adults to cover not only the labor of alternative activities but also the enjoyments of repose; and in a narrower sense than sleep or intoxication on the one hand, moonlighting or profit-making hobbies on the other. The playfulness of leisure has three facets. The first of these is the imagination of possible futures in which we might be free of the oppressions of the present. If such futures are truly' possible, that is, if they are able to emerge out of the existing world by a rearrange-ment of its priorities, then their entertainment in imagination is capable of being sustained and deepened from one period of leisure to the next. This in contrast to the scattered daydreams of wishful thinking that come and go for all of us without effort or lasting impression. That is, such images can accumulate sufficient form in time to lead to the commitment to some preferable future from among the possi-bilities~ To experience such a reorganization of hope in playfulness is to experience the genesis of an ideal within oneself. Not to experience it is to keep leisure locked up in itself. And finally, there is the transition from the possible and the preferable to the enjoyment of the future in the present. This is where most people are best at wasting time, even though they may not know what they are doing. It consists in the construction of a temporary utopia about oneself where the things one values 12 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 most can be savored. It is a timefor tasting ideals of companionship without strife, pleasure without labor, crafmanship without pressure, play without punishment. The reigning fear among those who wish to protect their leisure time from being absorbed by spiritual or intellectual recollection is that too much reflection inhibits enjoyment. And to be sure, there are those whose twisted sense of asceticism drives them from one cause to the other, volunteering their services and neglecting the wisdom that comes from having a good, wasted time. At the other extreme, enjoyment cut off from reflection about the future altogether quickly shrivels up into a mere pampering of a self exhausted by labor, with the result that it becomes less and less enjoyable and more and more like the pure passivity of sleep. Some-where between the two lies the art of celebrating a world that is not but might be for a while, a world filled up with the spirit of playfulness. Third, leisure should help foster a spirit of survival in the midst of this by no means best of all possible worlds. Just as the struggle for physical survival requires ingenuity in using available resources and at the same time remaining alert to the opportunities for deliverance if and when they present themselves, so too with the struggle for spiritual survival. It requires anger against avoidable evils, sensitivity to appropriate solutions in which one's anger may be expressed, and the capacity to wait without exploding from within or being sapped of one's energies from without. One may have to buy chemically treated food because fresh produce has been priced beyond one's budget; one may have to drive an automobile to work because public transport systems have become an economic deficit to the com-munity; one may have to put up with menial labor because one's skills are not in demand; one may have to swallow large doses of injustice, stupidity, and callous-ness. But one does not have to pretend to like it or allow it to embitter enjoyment. Survival means wedding a resistance to resignation with a love of playfulness so as to forfeit neither the gusts nor the disgusts of life. Fourthly, leisure needs to infuse a spirit of the sacred into the time that we waste. When the ritual, beliefs, and holy writ of a religious tradition become fettered to the myth of consumer time, they forsake their sacredness. When they cease to cut like a. two-edged sword that denounces sinfulness and announces goodness, they dull and profane their capactiy of re-creation. At the same time, when they provide mere divertissement from the trials of working life or serve only as platforms for supporting the flood of causes that wash through the mass media with the regularity of spring and autumn fashions, they betray their meaning. Sacred time is not an investment measured in loss and profit to the current problems of a civilization. It is a necessity--the necessity to hallow the self, the earth, and the human race as a single great gift beyond all desert. It insures that, whatever of practical use may come out of time wasted in leisure, it is the wasting that is holiest. Sacred time unplugs us from our own time and opens up a horizon of all time, against which the greatest sin appears as the desire for absolute control and the greatest goodness as the grace of being absolutely loved. All of us, every soul of us on earth, breathe the myths of our civilization as inevitably as we breathe the air .that surrounds us. They are transparent, taken for The Art of Wasting l~me / 13 granted, but essential for human .life. Leisure time is like a flute that transforms.the silent secrets in the air into music. It shows us the harmonies and the cacophanies, the purity and the pollution of our myths. Without leisure, we have no way to know the air about us, no way to love back the One who made us the,mythmaking animals we are. View From Behind Tapestries look like battlefields from the back. Threads like soldiers in hand to hand combat-- who is most resilient? Arms locked, elbows out, clenched fists of knot scattered like small skirmishes across the expanse. Who is most flexible? Stitches quarrel in overbearing voice, rush to trenches, maintain positions. Colors invade each other's territory, singing violent victories of light. All clamor, all struggle, It faces the wall of faith while the weaver and the watcher . work from the front. St. Anne Higgins, D.C. 123 Franklin St., Petersburg, VA 23803 Celibacy in Africa Matungulu Otene, S.J. Zaire's Father Otene, ordained in 1977, is presently working in St. Peter and Paul parish: B.P. 1125: Lubumbashi: Zaire. This article is excerpted from the booklet. "C~libat Consacr~ pour une Afrique assoiff~: de F~:conditi:," published by Editions Saint-Paul Afrique, P.O. Box 8505; Kinshasa, which was translated into English by Louis C. Plamondon. S.J.: Manresa; Box 47154; Nairobi; Kenya. In English, it is no. 65 of the Spearhead series, "Celibacy and the African Value of Fecundity," published by Gaba Publications: P.O. Box 908: Eldoret: Kenya, which graciously granted permission for our use. ~f the reason for Christian celibacy is unique, that is, for Jesus Christ and his kingdom, every Christian called to this type of life is also called to live out this experience in the context of his own culture and personal history. An African celibate today is not celibate in exactly the same way as an Indian of today, even if both are celibate for the sake of Jesus Christ and his kingdom. There is a whole world of emotions and affectivity which permeates our celibacy very deeply. This is so true that the world we live in affects the objective and subjective content of our celibacy. Both what we hear being said about celibacy and what we experience in our flesh by living out what is said, are rooted emotions. Without this emotive element, there would be no human celibacy in the full sense of the term; conse-quently, there would be no Christian celibacy since the latter is deeply rooted in human nature and since celibacy itself has also to be incarnated. The affective life of a South American--his way of feeling and living celibacy--differs from that of an African from Zaire or Senegal. Among Africans there are a certain number of differences in affectivity. However, even if it must be admitted that within the same people there are different ways of feeling things, this, nevertheless, does not mean that African peoples do not have a greater affinity with one another than with peoples from the West or the East. After all, their cultural heritage is common. This seems evident even if there are shades of meaning or subtle nuances which are hard to express in these few short pages, which do not pretend to be a psycho-so-cial study of human societies. 14 Celibacy in Africa The cultural milieu in which the young African lives has a very great impact on his response to the Lord's call. Celibacy is surely an area in which sensibility is a very important factor, if not the most important. In fact, coming as he does from a family where marriage is viewed in a very special light, the young African will carry in the depths of his being, perhaps through his whole life, the impact of this way of thinking. It will take only a circumstance or an event to awaken in him a whole world of memories accumulated throughout his short life. The fact that his grand-father was polygamous, that his own father had more than one wife, and that his own mother was not the first wife of his father, nor the one preferred, cannot but have significance in his life of celibacy. The mere fact of knowing that in his extended family there is somewhere a cousin with five children, each with a different father, cannot be without significance. Those are his half brothers, but this entails that this good cousin of his.is a husbandless woman with children entirely dependent upon her. To know that his aunt is a prostitute with children, cannot' but have some impact on him. It is no small thing to have a deep sense of all these situations and still, despite all this, to dedicate his life to God in conse-crated celibacy. This world which I have just described briefly cannot be found as such in Europe nor in North or South America, but this is the world that has shaped the young African of whatever black African country he may be. One cannot ignore these realities and pretend that they do not have any influence whatsoever on people. For Africans the child is a reality to be treasured; and each human being does all in his power to leave behind him :some offspring, whether he be married or not married, living the life of a prostitute or of enforced celibacy. All Africans desire to have children, sometimes by any means. The young man who hears the Lord's call is living in this very world and not in any other. His' reflections and ways of thinking are rooted in the environment from which he comes, in the psycho-social milieu which surrounds him. This does not frighten the Lord just as no human milieu frightens him, because it is in such complex situations that he manages to find celibates for his kingdom. Growth in the Life of Celibacy To be sure, other cultures also have their own difficult problems in this area. I am merely showing that our way of experiencing the world has an influence on celibacy and that the cultural traditions are to be taken seriously, but without exaggeration. The young African called to a life of celibacy or religious life will have to integrate progressively within his affective life the realities which surround him without seeking to escape from them. He will do so by looking at them frankly, without panic, in prayer, in his personal relationship with Christ in the Eucharist. God's grace is always there, and this is what gives us confidence in the face of the strong temptations in this life. This young human being will have to understand that since the Incarnation, God gives his grace through weak human beings. Accordingly, to see clearly within his own being, he will have to be open with another person who has the experience of Jesus Christ. The one the Lord will "16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 put in his path will show him the road to follow and will give him courage in the moment of trial when temptations are strongest. Celibacy requires a lot of disci-pline. He will have to learn to exercise great control over his senses and sometimes to give up things which are innocuous, and to focus on the unique reality which is necessary, Jesus Christ. For certain types of people, chastity can be gained only after a hard fight lasting many years; and this can cause a lot of anxiety when it happens to people who are scrupulous by nature, yet desirous of achieving holiness. What I have just written is not rhetoric. It sometimes happens that young people are torn apart inwardly because they want to dedicate themselves entirely to the Lord but yet cannot completely control certain evil habits or certain attitudes which they find difficult to evangelize. I insist that it is a difficult fight--a fight to death--a fight which moulds a man gradually as he learns bit by bit not to depend upon his own strength but on that of the Lord who has set him apart from his mother's womb to preach his Gospel to men of good will There are less sensitive types of people who do not encounter very many types of problems in their development, but irrespective of their sensitivity, all will undergo moments when they are forced to make a decision for the Lord. The chastity that is required by a life of celibacy is not a case of spontaneous generation--it is a garden that must be tended lest weeds grow in it. When one has gone astray, one finds it difficult, sometimes even impossible, to go back; thus, it is not surprising that some young, generous people have gone astray. Vigilance is necessary in these matters, but the kind of vigilance characteristic of those who are sure of victory; for if Christ is with us, who can be against? Sooner or later Christ will defeat this devil of our middle age who likes to attack our flesh, born in the human condition, born incomplete. The young celibate, therefore, will learn not to abuse God's grace. He will be prudent; he will not take chances with his celibacy. He will have the simplicity of a dove but the prudence of a serpent. The married man who is a dedicated Christian will not flirt with other women lest his marriage, be threatened and, accordingly, his real happiness and that of his home. The same holds true for religious. They also cannot take chances with their passions and put themselves in the position of violating the gift they have made of themselves in the simplicity of their heart. Nothing escapes lay people when it comes to observing the behavior of reli-gious. They notice even the smallest detail when they want to criticize their priests or religious men and women. Some even take pleasure in judging them, in scrutin-izing their behavior to find the smallest reprehensible thing. In this way, they purify their religious, even without wanting to. Lay people are surely not gullible, even though they sometimes misinterpret the way African religious live out their celibacy. They can often distinguish between the religious who is loyal and faithful to his consecration to the Lord from the religious who is beginning to compromise and. to give in. Assuredly, their judgments are not gospel truth, and often one would do well to minimize themremembering that even the great saints were often Slandered by malicious tongues. Celibacy in Africa Certain Difficulties or Certain Illusions It is sad to 'note that many young, generous and seemingly solid religious have lost the grace of celibacy because of supposedly spiritual relationships with women religious and with young girls. There is nothing more dangerous than these suspect relationships between men and women religious, nothing more scandalous for African Christians than to see their priests, their men and women religious become involved in expressions of human love under the pretext of love in Christ.Many men and women religious believe rather too easily that they have been made immune to the weakness of their flesh. They are a little too quick to believe that they have attained the required maturity in celibacy. They sincerely think that henceforth sex has no hold over them since they have become spiritual. Yet, it is a very sad and illusory spirituality which makes man believe that he is now immune to sin. A really spiritual person, on the contrary, depends entirely on the grace of God without giving up healthy vigilance. I believe that the closer one gets to the Lord, the more one realizes that what seemed innocent until then now takes on the appearance of something that is not entirely pure. However, far from being threatened or discouraged by this increasing desire for purity, one has more and more confidence in the Lord and greater humility when one thinks 6f how little one is virtuous. In true love there is no fear. This is so, it seems to me, in the case of one who wants to respond wholeheartedly, day after day, to the call of him who has made us pass from darkness to his wonderful light. In my humble opinion, it often takes many years of solitude to be able to experience a true spiritual friendship in Christ with members of the other sex. The danger is to believe too quickly that the right moment has come. That is often when one goes astray. As for any genuinely Christian life, celibacy cannot go without suffering. There is no real celibacy without the mystery of the cross written, as it were, in the flesh of baptized people. A celibacy without renunciation, without a sacrifice that is willingly accepted, a celibacy which refuses to die like the grain of wheat fallen in the soil is a celibacy locked up in solitude and bearing no lasting fruit. There are people who are undoubtedly privileged because of circum-stances and especially because of the Lord, but let us not be too quick to classify ourselves among those people and risk spoiling the splendid grace the Lord has given to us--the grace of living the celibacy of simple people without any special favors from God, I mean without any extraordinary grace. This simple gift, in fact, honors the Lord just as much as the extraordinary gift that some of us humans might receive from God. I don't mean to say that it is absolutely impossible for men or women religious to experience a healthy spiritual friendship with members of the other sex, but I believe that some of us think that we have attained that stage when we really haven't. Often, because of a lack of restraint or a lack of real self-knowledge, one strikes up a friendship which will tomorrrow become sinful, therefore, bad for oneself and for theirs. A friendship to which we are too attached, a friendship which prevents us from fulfilling our duties is a friendship to be "18 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 purified or, better still to be abandoned while there is time; that is, as soon as we become aware off where it is. leading, the relationship must be severed politely and without human respect. This is for the greater good of the person whom we love in Christ; finally, it is for the greater glory of the one who has called us to holiness, Jesus Christ. In the same way, a friendship which would render a member of a religious order incapable of being available to do what his superiors want 9f him is simply not good. It is for the Lord that we have joined religious life, not for the purpose of surrounding ourselves with protective partnerships which go against true charity. In,his infinite goodness, the Lord may put on our path a person of the other sex for a certain period of time. This, person will enrich us through, friendship, and this enrichment can be mutual. But, here again, this gracemust be lived in all simplicity and with the necessary prudence since we are all weak, sinful human beings. Hope for Africa ~ , Certain missionaries have led young Africans to believe that celibacy is more difficult for them than !t is for young people from the West. This opinion is based on ignorance or it is a lie. The fundamental problem, in fact, is the same for all human beings; the conditions that are found in any culture are not qualitatively different. In the final analysis, it is the same fundamental problem for different people in different cultures; there are accidental but no essential differences. I have sometimes been shocked to hear this type of broad statement according to which it would be practically impossible for Africans to live a life of celibacy. For me, celibacy is rooted in faith in the living Christ. It is something which permeates the faith of the one who feels called, and faith is something which is given by the Lord without any distinction of culture or race. There are differences, but they are not so essential that they make a life of celibacy impossible in AfriCa. There are enough African religious to show th~.t this is true. Among these meia and women of Africa, often living in some isolated areas, there are men and women religious who live their cbnsecration to the Lord even in heroic fashion. Their silent example is enough to prove that celibacy is possible for Africans, at least for those who feel themselves called to it and who respond generously. Not too long ago, 1 was telling a group of young Africans the following: either we are Christians or we are not; either we believe in Jesus Christ or we don't believe in him at all. In this area there are no half measures. It's all or nothing. This is why faith in Jesus Christ requries a complete transformation of our life-style and of our outlook. One of the aspects of our outlook on life which must change because it is absolutely against Christianity is this requirement of a fruitfulness that is exclusively biological. A man without children among us in black Africa is one who does not bear fruit, who is useless and even an outcast. If there is an obstacle to the awakening and living out of vocations (and I am talking here about voca-tions to the priesthood or religious life), it is our too limited way of looking at fruitfulness. Many Africans believe that a man cannot be completely fulfilled in or outside of marriage unless he has many children. Among us, celibate people and Celibacy in Africa married couples without children are not seen in a good light because they seem useless to our society. It may be understandable that some non-Christians think this way. But for Christians this is disastrous. Haven't we ever meditated on the life of Christ? Can we ignore that he was himself celibate? Or do we believe that Jesus was not a man like us except for sin? Yet our creed is very clear on this. Jesus was truly God and he was truly man. If such is the case, why wouldn't we allow those among us who wish to live like Christ to doso? If it be true that the face of being celibate did not diminish the God made man, why wouldn't we accept that a certain number among us are not diminished by celibacy for Jesus Christ and his kingdom? Has the world ever known a being as fully developed as Jesus of Nazareth, our Love? Yet, he was celibate. Isn't this Jesus who lived without a wife and children still, even today, a source of all life for us? One doesn't lose anything by responding to his call, by becoming celibate for him and for his kingdom where we shall all have only one Father, his own, and where all of us will truly be brothers and sisters in the Spirit who makes us one. The young African is thus called to live a life of faith in Christ. He must not think that celibacy is more difficult for him than for young people in other continents. This is simply not true. Let us take the example of the West where today may be found pornographic films, sex shops, nightclubs. To live in such a world is not always easy. It requires a certain self-discipline. In order to live a life of celibacy in such an atmosphere, it is necessary to cling to Jesus Christ, to have a deep life of prayer and to receive the Eucharist regularly. The young African man or woman called to religious life will always remember that we live in a world of male and female; consequently, it is clear that we have to live our celibacy in the midst of men and women of our times and of our culture. There is nothing wrong with that; on the contrary, it is a grace that the Lord gives us by inviting us to live out his gospel in the midst of the world and not in some isolated corner. At the crossroads the Lord may put on our path certain persons of the other sex. We will welcome them as brothers and sisters in the Lord. The gospel is full of examples that show us how Jesus respected persons of the other sex. He doesn't send away the sinful woman who comes to the house of Simon, the Pharisee to have her sins forgiven. On this occasion, Jesus could have been afraid of shocking people by receiving such a woman with open arms. But the Lord was not afraid of what people would say or think because in true love there is no fear. Neither does Jesus judge the woman caught in adultery like the Pharisees who bring her to him. On the contrary, he defends her against the "unmarked tombs" who have grown old in sin and yet want to preach to others. Jesus is close friends with Martha and Mary as well as with their brother, Lazarus. Jesus has pity on the widow from Naim who has lost her son. The Lord admires the Canaanite woman's faith, and he is exceedingly affectionate toward his mother Mary, the Immaculate Virgin. In his Gospel, the Lord shows us how his celibacy did not exclude anybody. He Was completely open; he welcomed others. In solitude he prayed and he was a 20 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 source of joy and peace for the people that God, his Father, had placed in his path. If religious life is to flourish in our African continent,it is necessary that there be more and more religious who witness by their life of celibacy. A celibacy based on Jesus Christ cannot but be fruitful. Black Africa, which has such a high regard for fruitfulness, will see a new type of love which outstrips in fruitfulness the love of the children of this world. We, the sons and daughters of Mother Africa, have believed in the word of him who said, "there are some who are eunuchs because they have made themselves so for the kingdom of heaven. Let him who can understand, understand" (Mt 19:!2). If there is a word which has become the life of our life, that is the one. Spiritual Fruitfulness If there is a fruitfulness that is biological, there is another one which is spiritual. Any parent worth his salt knows that it is' not enough to procreate children. In responsible parenthood, it is also necessary to help the child that we have brought to life to grow untilhe has reached a stage where he will truly be an adult. To educate, to instruct are part and parcel of his awakening to human life. It takes only one instant for a couple to initiate the process of procreation. It takes only a little time to call someone into existence, but it requries many years for a child to become an adult. Whether it be as parents, as educators, or in any other capacity, all those who are engaged in human formation are doing a type of work that is spiritually generative. Any man who helps another one grow and become more human is a man who is gpiritually generative. This spiritual generation exists at various levels; yet, the spiritual fruitfulness of a Christian is not that of a non-Christian. From a Christian point of view, any Christian man or woman who awakens another human being to the life of God in Jesus Christ is spiritually fruitful. The object of spiritual fruitfulness for a Christian is Jesus Christ and his message. It is the person of Christ which distinguishes any typically Christian fruitfulness from any other. All Christians are called to be fruitful but in different ways and in accordance with their state in life. The form of life of one who wakens to the life of God in Jesus Christ is not something that is accidental. There are some who believe that the way of life--whether it be of married Christians or of "eunuchs for the king-dom of God"---has no importance in the process of awakening to life. But when one awakens somebody else to life, one does it with all one's being. If our way of life is not something external to us but a part of our being and, therefore, a part of our relationship to God, to others, and to the world, we can readily understand that this life-style is not without importance in matters of spiritual fruitfulness. In his life Jesus preferred celibacy to marriage, and this choice is not something accidental. The Jesus of the gospels presents himself to us as celibate and not otherwise, and this is part of the mystery of incarnation. In the same way Jesus was not at the same time a man and a woman. He was not both married and non-mar-ried. He was a celibate, and tfiis fact has some relevance in the transmission of his Celibacy in Africa message. He wanted to be born of a virgin, Mary, and this also is not something purely accidental or accessory in the mystery of salvation. Thus one who chooses celib~acy for the kingdom of God is fruitful differently from married people. This difference is rooted in the order of being and not of having. It is an ontological reality and, therefore, it is a dimension surrounded with mystery. The spiritual fecundity of those who live in celibacy resembles closely that of Christ. In other words, the way that Christ was spiritually fruitful resembles the way in which a man is fruitful through a celibacy chosen for Christ. Obviously "to resemble" or "to be close to" is not the same thing as "to be identical to." Wherever a true local Church is to be found, there will be found also Christians who are married and Christians who are eunuchs for the kingdom. Each of these forms of life has a great importance in the aspect of fecundity which is essential for the life of the Church. The uniqueness of the spiritual fruitfulness of a celibate for the kingdom of heaven shares something of the mystery of God made man, of God who wanted to be among us without woman or child while being eternally generative. Death Song of a Grain of Wheat Born above the earth, Beloved of the sun, Sky-held. Rain-touched. Wind-taught to dance, I know I sang of joy. Borne beneath the ground, Forsaken by the sun, Sky-denied, Rain-forgot, I feel no more the winds, And know a slower song. Yet reach I for the sun-set fires And C~rr the hidden waters. Stretched, song-heavy with the wait ' Of days too long to measure, I learn to trust the darkness That consumes me: That sends my myriad children to be Born above the earth. Sister Linda Karas. RSM Mercy Consultation Center P.O. Box 370 Dallas, PA 18612 The Sparrow Has Found Its Home At Last: A Personal Account of Transfer Anonymous The author is a sister who transferred from an active to a contemplative community some several years ago. She explains in the article why she prefers to remain anonymous. The sharing which follows comes as the result of a suggestion made to me that I write about my experience of transfer from an active community to a contempla-tive order. My first response was a hasty and hearty "No." Then the possibility of helping any individual or community involved in a similar experience crept into my prayer and thinking. The good which might be achieved seemed to outweigh my natural reticence and my disinclinatio.n to discuss the subject. I have not taken any polls, nor have I statistics. I personally know exactly six solemnly professed nuns and a few people in formation who transferred from active to contemplative life. However, one would'have to have lived on a remote Pacific atoll for the last several years not to know that transfers are on the increase. What follows is not a scholarly analysis of the phenomenon of transfer. It is just my own experience and an endeavor to share what ! have learned. The reason for my choosing anonymity is that I might feel freer in what I write and also guard the identity of my former and present communities. There is another reason: the story is more God's than my own. The transfer, or more correctly, my contempla-tive vocation, is his work, his call, his idea. My part has only been a response to his initiative and to his love. Early History The idea of transfer did not come as a sudden inspiration. My first desire to be a nun came when ! was twelve and I was certain then that I was called to be a contemplative: I even knew to which order and monastery I was attracted. Some-thing, though, interfered with following this vocation: My father adamantly opposed the idea of his daughter being immured in a cloister. The whole topic was 22 A Personal Account of Transfer forbidden, and gradually I forgot the idea. In the meantime, I became acquainted wi~h the sisters working in our parish. I won my father's consent to join this :community which 1 genuinely loved and admired. I received a good fo, rmation and an excellent education. I was very happy and contented. One thing consistenly moved and drew me: prayer. Right from the beginning I had some difficulty with meditation books and their outline of points, colloquies and resolutions. It all seemed too ready-made. Also, the time given to this prayer (one-half hour) never seemed to satisfy my longing for greater intimacy and depth. My difficulty was remedied by the fact that God simply transcended the books and led me along his chosen path for me in prayer. Another remedy came by way of hiding alone in solitary places on the novitiate property. There God had free rein in my heart. The one thing I most wanted was to love him and see him known and loved. Of course I did try to speak of this desire to superiors. They seemed mbre concerned that I live the common life, practice virtue, and eliminate my faults. All this was quite understandable but not terribly encouraging. Matters came to a head when I became a junior sister. My desires for loving God alone and in hiddenness, and for a life which would embrace withdrawal and penance became a steady fire within me. Neither studies nor work could distract me from it. After some months of inner turmoil I finally had the courage to broach the subject of a contemplative vocation to the community confessor, a, retreat maste.r, and my immediate superior. None of these persons told me the whole thing was a temptation against my vocation, but since 1 was happy and well adjusted, they each felt that I had enough opportunity for the things I was seeking within the scope of the religious life as it was then being lived in the congregation. Again, this was essentially what I had been told in the novitiate. My disappoint-ment was as strong as the attraction I had experienced but l was able to set aside my yearning. The work in which I was engaged kept me busy. I enjoyed it and gave myself to it wholeheartedly. A few years later, an unforgettable retreat, coupled with God teaching me to pray with Scripture some months after retreat, gave direction and support to me in my relationship with him. He was so near, and daily he spoke to me in his word. This did not rekindle the desire for contemplative life~ but it did establish me firmly in the way of contemplative prayer. This brief history serves, I think, to underscore a fact in my life and in the lives of those women whose stories of transfer I know well: the vocation was felt very early and not taken too seriously by those in a position to advise and assist. Had they done so, a good deal of the suffering, struggle and turmoil of coming to a decision to transfer,after many years in an apostolic congregation might have been mitigated. . Coming to a Decision In the years following Vatican Council II my community undertook its renew-al and adaptation. I welcomed all the initial changes as healthy and hopeful. As time went on, however, I became unhappy with my own and the community's level 24 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 of secularization. My modest wardrobe and collection of trifling possessions troubled my conscience. I wanted and expected to receive annual assignments, but the new approach of applying for both position and residence, with the full expectation that one's preferences would be honored, contradi6ted my understand-ing of Gospel obedience. T.V., mixed drinks, popular novels, dating, and all the inevitable departures from religious life were matters of grave concern to me. It seemed to me that the true life of the community was ebbing away, that God and the love of God were no longer the focus of life. We still did a first-class job in our work, but there appeared to me~ little difference between ourselves and dedicated lay persons. Without going into more detail, I felt it necessary to include the foregoing inasmuch as it formed some of the background for my transfer. However, I do not feel that discontent and disapproval, even if justified, are good reasons for transfer. They would form a very shaky foundation for any new beginning and would surely raise questions in the community accepting a transfer sister. Flight from trouble could well indicate that the same pattern would be followed in the new community. It could also mean that the heart of the problem might be within the sister herself, and her response to difficult circumstances. Fleeing trouble was never part of my motivation. Had this been the case, I would have done it much sooner because I lived in painful community situations for several years before making a transfer. Furthermore, 1 was always very open and honest in communicating my thinking to my superiors. One cannot simply leave. There must be integrity in the decision and it should be made in peace and, as far as possible, in harmony with one's higher superiors. There should be no bitterness, resentment or anger. The vocation is followed as God's call and is a result of his initiative. This fact, if kept central in the minds of all concerned, makes for peace; and it is in this way that God's presence manifests itself to all involved. God uses all our experiences to our good and brings about his purposes. While not my motivation, discontent and disapproval were part of my personal expe-rience and did serve to keep me from what I saw as wrong, In a more positive vein, they ,kept me praying for God's light, strength and help. Certain tragic events in my own family also form a part of this picture and had their effect. Instead of completely discouraging me or leading me to despair or exodus from religious life altogether, everything brought me to the God of all peace and consolation. He alone became myRock of Refuge and Teacher. The alienation I experienced from my community and its value increased my love for him and my trust in him. Thus it was that my attraction for simply being with God in love grew stronger. A mere "concidence" (in quotation marks because the providence of the God who numbers the hairs of our fieads extends to every circumstance and happen-ing) occasioned my writing to the superior of a monastery. In time we became correspondents. When I first visited her and met her community in the grilled and bare parlor of the monastery I was deeply moved. This surprised me. I had not thought of contemplative life as my vocation for years, yet here 1 was, feeling completely at home with relative strangers and very strongly drawn to their sim- A Personal Account of Transfer / 25 plicity, humility, joy, peace and poverty. In the months that followed 1 was haunted by the experience. I found out more about their life and read of their origin. Could it be? Might 1 become one of them? Or was this merely a desire for escape from present suffering ("the grass is always greener.") or a dream too good to be true? Then, too, there was the possibility to be faced that God was calling me to deeper contemplative prayer rather than actual contemplative life. And might I be doing more good in the world outside a cloister rather than in it? I went through this inner and secret turmoil for several months. All the while 1 begged for light and some discernible, positive direction from God. 1 kept waiting and hoping for some outside confirmation of God's will. God was, in fact, giving me all the "signs" I needed, but I distrusted the most significant of them: the profound attraction the life held for me over the years and especially at that moment, the fact that it fulfilled the most unselfish aspirations of my heart, and the fact that I seemed to have the requisite "talents." How is it we so readily distrust our own intuition and heart? Yet here at the deepest level of our being is where God works. Again, I have heard the same experience related by others who transferred to contemplative life. 1 went through no particular "process" of dis-cernment. There was just myself and, I trust, the Holy Spirit, plenty of tears, prayer, and searing, soul-searching honesty. One thing 1 knew: my life had one purpose and that was to love God with all my heart and soul, mind and being and to tend solely to him. Nothing else mattered. I did not see it then as clearly as I do now, but that, too, was evidence of a contemplative vocation, and had been the most important reality in my whole religious life. In his own time, God spoke, and he completely calmed the storm. I came to a "peace surpassing understanding." All my doubts vanished. My questions came to an end. I knew. In light of that peace I first asked the superior of the monastery (of the same order as that to which I was first attracted at the age of twelve) if there were any possibility of her accepting me. At the time I made my request I know now I was too little aware of the risk a small enclosed community takes in accepting a transfer. 1 next confided in my old and saintly grandmother who gave me her blessing, encouragement and wisdom--along with a warning that there was "still plenty of the world" in me and that I'd have far to go. She was absolutely correct. With my grandmother's prayers to back me, I approached my major superior. She was wonderful and accepting. The depth of my peace and conviction were evident to her. She fully realized and agreed.that this was a genuine vocation and not a result of any differences of values or opinions. We communicated in a real spirit of love. Not knowing much about contemplative life, her concern was that my personality might be stifled or my gifts ignored and unused. 1 had tentatively broached the subject to a priest friend in a letter some weeks before. Visiting him, 1 told him the whole story and said that I really thought it was God's will for me to transfer. He informed me that it came as no surprise to him, that he had seen it coming but had not wanted in any way to interfere with God's guidance of me. Among my family and friends, the least suprised was my mother. Her intuition had led her to realize that a great change was in the offing. 96 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 The responses of all the above mentioned persons further confirmed my expe-rience. I cannot say that my decision was accepted or understood by all my friends and religious family. It caused some painful estrangements and there were those who could only accept it as my "thing" and therefore all right for me. The actual process of transfer was thus initiated after what had felt like an interminable period of waiting and praying. Perhaps God wanted me to realize that it was first necessary that I be utterly surrendered to his desires and that the only way he could achieve this was to let me struggle on "alone" during that time. It was a kind of game of love. He so deeply drew me but never let me fully reach him. Left to myself 1 could not believe in my own heart. It was not until he gave me that unmistakable sign and gift of peace that 1 was sure that what I had been experiencing in my own heart was indeed his will for me, that the two were not two, but one. Legal Process of Transfer Because 1 am rather sure questions about procedure will arise, it may be helpful here to tell what 1 know about getting the document known as a "Rescript of Transfer" from the Sacred Congregation for Religious. In my own case this was done in the last months of my postulancy immediately prior to my receiving the habit and commencing my canonical year. For the validity of novitiate, one must have this document. Ordinarily the Vicar for Religious of the diocese in which the monastery is located handles the paperwork. He directed that three letters be written: the first by the superior of the community ! was leaving expressing her approval and her willingness to receive me back at any time before solemn vows should I leave the monastery; the second by the superior receiving me stating her willingness to receive me and including pertinent data regarding my status in religion (name, age, years professed, community of origin); the third by myself. handwritten and addressed to the Pope, stating my request and my reasons for it. These letters are sent to the Vicar who forwards them to.Rome through his office. In approximately six weeks, upon receipt of the rescript, he sends copies to the superiors. This is, as ! understand it, the general procedure, although I have heard of it being done through the Vicar of the diocese which the transferring sister was leaving. I have also heard of cases handled by a major superior independently of the Vicar for Religious. The superior dealt directly with the Sacred Congregation for Religious. In any case, this rescript is the only permission one needs to begin the canonical year and proceed through formation to vows. New Beginning I entered upon my new life with certain expectations. Some were realistic and some not so realistic. It was realistic to expect some sense of dbjb vu. This was in many ways a return to customs and practices l had lived in my first several years of religious life. With these things I was at home. I had also rightly anticipated a warm community life. Of course 1 allowed for a period of adjustment, but I did not A Personal Account of Transfer expect it to last more than six to eight weeks, in fact, it took much longer than that. The reason was not that I was too old to learn or change or that 1 lacked a willing docility. It was more subtle than this. Without realizing it, I expected to enter upon a period of rest, a sort of honeymoon in a safe harbor after years of struggle and sorrow. This was not to be. For one thing, the monastic community I entered was going through its own renewal pains. And much worse, for me, was that when I came in the front door of the monastery it seemed that God left by the back door. Here 1 was at last, and where was he? The work tired me. The hard bed took some getting used to. Often it was impossible to get back to sleep once it had been broken by the Office or night adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. Sometimes the closeness of my neighbors irritated me beyond measure. There were no days off from routine. I expected to master everything easily but it turned out that I was the one to be mastered. After many years in religious life it amazed me to learn how deluded I was about myself. Without the distractions of apostolic work and all that goes with it, without useless conversation, reading and entertainment, God's light began to clarify my vision. The very starkness of the life, its purity, makes for this experience. I was face to face with myself, my weakness, my poverty. Anything is possible if God is tangibly supporting us. It is when he is appar-ently nowhere to be found that things get out of hand and we are unable to cope with the simplest and most normal inconveniences and trials of daily life. But ought not a contemplative be able always to find refuge in prayer? Self-made prayer is most unsatisfactory. What a contemplative learns by being unable to pray, by being reduced to utter poverty at every level of existence (and this was my experience) is just to cling in naked faith to Jesus Crucified. Paradoxical as it may sound, there is no greater happiness. Having come to this reality through suffering, both in my life before 1 entered the monastery and in the years 1 have been here, I know something of what it means to say with Paul that I have been crucified with Christ, that my life is not my own and Christ lives in me (Ga 2:19-20). The way to the deepest joy I have ever known is just as the Son of God has taught us and that way is by losing my life and denying my very self. The total experience of knowing myself as nothing, of having nothing, has opened my eyes in faith to the All within me, the Being who in unfathomable love calls non-being into union with himself. My love for God, my hunger for him, unites me at the Heart of Reality with all my brothers and sisters in this world. I do not live for myself, nor suffer for myself, nor weep for myself. My vocati6n embraces every person on earth. In their names 1 pray and work. In their names, I, too, am in misery and pain. I am a whole world calling to God in need, in love, in trust. 1 have entered eternity in time and within me there is infinite scope for love. I came because of love and I have stayed because of love. Surely it is "a narrow gate and a hard road" (Mt 7:13-14), but it "leads to life," life opening more and more into the mystery of God as love. The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction Barbara Armstrong, O.SS.R. This article had its origin in a presentation made to a group of retreat masters by Sister Barbara, a cloistered nun residing in the Redemptoristine Monastery; Liguori. MO 63057. Somewhere in her writings, the great St. Teresa compares the contemplative with the standard-bearer in battle. She says that, because he is the standard-bearer, he is exposed to great danger. He can't defend himself because he carries the standard, of which he must not let go--even if he is to be cut to pieces. "Contemplatives," she says, "have to bear aloft the sign of humility, the Cross. And they must suffer all the blows aimed at them without striking back. Their duty is to suffer as Jesus did." "Let them watch what they are doing," she says again, "for if they let the standard fall, the battle is lost." It isn't the standard-bearer who is important. It is the standard itself which is all important, for it is imprinted with the sign of our salvation: the Cross. Perhaps this is why there are so few contemplatives. Perhaps, too, this is why contempla-tives need all the help they can get just to respond fully to the call of their vocation, to persevere and become fruitful in the Church of today. You Have No Eyes to See The message sent to the Church in Laodicea, in the Book of Revelation, is also a message meant for contemplatives--and for those who guide them. Right after the familiar passage about lukewarmness, we hear the Lord say: "You have no eyes to see that you are wretched, pitiable, poverty-stricken, blind and naked. My advice to you is to buy from me that gold which is purified in the furnace, so that you may be rich, and white garments to wear so that you may hide the shame of your nakedness, and salve to put on your eyes to make you see." That phrase, "You have no eyes to see," is significant for us because ignorance The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction is one of the reasons why relatively few contemplatives ever attain the end for which they were called: union with God. Mystical graces, we are told, are always available. God's goodness and generosity are never lacking. But very few actually arrive at a state of contemplation. Why is this? To answer this question, I would like to tell you a story. Actually, it is a parable which is told in the book of a Carmelite nun, Sister Ruth Burrows. Here is her parable. A Love Story Hidden away in a valley surrounded by high mountains there lived a very primitive tribe. The people of this tribe knew very little of the world outside their valley. Occasionally, they would get a glimpse of a jet streaking across the sky far over their heads, and this, they thought, was one of the gods throwing spears at another. One day a man appeared in the valley, a young anthropologist. He had come to study the tribe at close quarters--if they would have him. But they were a gentle tribe, so they welcomed him. The young man was lodged in the chief's hut and lived there for some years. Eventually he fell in love with the chief's daughter and married her. Hitherto, the girl had thought herself wealthy. Was not her father the most powerful of their people? But the closer she grew to her beloved, the more she saw that her riches--the family cattle, some cooking pots and animal skins--were as nothing compared to the possessions that were her husband's. He had materials, leathers and machines, knives and matches to make fire--riches unimaginable. But the girl saw, too, that her husband's greatest delight was to share his riches with her. Her lack merely aroused his bounty, so she knew her poverty itself primarily as a richness, giving them both pleasure. There came a time when the anthropologist had to leave and, taking his wife with him, he returned to his own civilization. The native girl found this new environment terribly alien. She discovered, to her horror, that her husband's enemies laughed at him behind his back because of his primitive wife. Even his friends pitied him. She didn't know what to do with this bitter knowledge. Some-how she had brought disgrace on her loved one. The girl always knew that her husband loved her. She knew that he longed to share his heart with her, take her completely into his life. But when he tried to speak of so many things closest to him, she would notice his voice falter, for she could not follow even the meaning of his words, let alone the scope of his thoughts and concepts. She was shut off from him by her own limitation and ignorance. That caused her distress almost beyond bearing. The more she realized what her poverty cost her beloved, the more absolute became her will to escape from it for his sake. Equally the more clearly did she see that, of herself, there was no escape. But all was not lost because she also realized that in her husband she had come not only to understand her poverty, but to find an effective and everpresent escape from it. From him she could receive all that his Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 love had prepared for her. So she opened her heart to everything he had to offer her. She found in him the most loving of teachers. Soon she became the echo of his thought. There passed between them intimate glances of complete understanding. She had an intuitive knowledge of how his mind worked, so closely did she grow to him. Yet she bad lost nothing of that natural woman he had first loved. On the contrary, she only now realized her own innate capacity. Her enrichment had brought all that was already there to bloom. But now, more than ever, she knew, too, that this was all his doing. Every perception, every growth, had come from his love and his teaching. Genuine Contemplatives This story, lengthy though it be, brings out so many important points about the contemplative vocation. Years ago, maybe it's different now, one of the phrases we often heard was that "we should strive for perfection." This tended to make us think that we could do it all ourselves. The main idea seemed to be that we were in control of our lives. The success of things depended on our own efforts. And so, many of us thought we could become contemplatives by the things we did. Like the primitive tribe of our story living in their valley, though, our horizons were very limited. We were content with our regulated existence, our own personal riches and the consolations sent us from time to time by a loving God. Much confid~nce was attached to the good things of our little enclosed world. We had no eyes to see beyond our then present peaceful life. But since we are meant to be genuine contemplatives, Jesus began to break through our ignorance and complacency. He asked us to leave our valley of poverty. He invited us to a rich interior world, one we had never dreamed of. These invitations continue to be offered to us in many ways. Perhaps they come in a retreat, in a sermon, in our reading, or through the words of a friend. But the voice is the voice of Jesus, and he invites us over and over again. If the primitive tribe in our story had turned away the young anthropologist when he came among them, he would never have married the chief's daughter. She would never have learned about the larger world; she would have stayed in her ignorance. Think of all the beauty, rich, ness and love of which she would have been deprived. The great St: Teresa was satisfied for a long time with her routine religious exercises, even though in her heart she knew better. We read that she continued to live just over twenty ,years with her heart divided between two extremes: the pleasures, satisfactions and pastimes of her fashionable world, and the spiritual life of a contemplative. How can this happen? How can we contemplatives continue to fool ourselves ---even though we are continually prodded, continually touched by grace? One of the ways we contemplatives have of staying in our valley of poverty is by our attachment to .the Law. We can" fall prey to a sort of fanatical legalism. The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction Most often, it seems, it is the most pious of persons who become rigid and unbending formalists. "Here at last," we say, "is something solid to hang on to." In our own eyes we are in the right. "We are doers of the Law." Any ,doer of the law, however, will also be tempted to live by the law, whereas the true lover of Jesus lives by the spirit. We contemplatives tend to make the Law, and it alone, our security. We never even dream that it is possible to seek a perfection in anything whatever with an intensity of zeal that is in itself imperfect. For instance, often in the past, the cross, austerity, suffering was unthinkingly perverted by us in our zeal. Wehad the idea that, since we were only pleasing God when we were suffering, the more suffering the better. Fearing and hating our bodies, we thought, would make us spiritual people. This, together with the notion that we were redeemed by suffering since Jesus died for us, we pushed .to its logical conclusion, thinking that we could never have too much suffering. It wasn't suffer-ing that redeemed us. It was love.t We contemplatives can develop attachments to just about anything: to prayer and fasting for their own sake; to a pious practice or devotion; to a custom or system of spirituality; to a method of meditation, even to contemplation itself (or to what we think is contemplation.) We can become attached to virtues, to things that, in themselves, are marks of heroism and high sanctity. We religious men and women, called to be saints, can allow ourselves to be blinded by an inordinate love for such things and can remain just as much in darkness and error as those who seem far less perfect than we. Some of us can become gluttons for prayer and for silence and solitude. Silence can become an ultimate. When there is noise we become angry and rebel-lious. If we are required to set aside our solitude for the sake of charity, we fill the air with our complaints. This kind of solitude and silence is false, of course, a refuge for the individualist. Perhaps the deepest attachment of all, the one which keeps us in our valley of poverty the longest, is attachment to ourselves. On this we must keep a fingerhold; we just cannot let go. Self-respect, self-fulfillment, self-satisfaction--we have to look good in our own eyes and in the eyes of others. We worry.about failure because somehow we are not living up to the expectations we have set for our-selves. Only secondly do we consider the expectations of God. In our story the chief's daughter found that her lack aroused her husband's bounty. She knew her poverty primarily as a sweet thing. But covetous as we are, we contemplatives want our hands full. We must have something of our own which we can bestow on God; or at least hold out to him, thinking to win him over with our generosity. When Jesus Touches Us Sooner or later we begin to realize that this way of living does not work; we begin to see that relying on ourselves alone is doomed to failure. When Jesus touches us with his mystical graces, what happens? Our eyes are opened and we are Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 dissatisfied with everything. This overwhelming feeling of dissatisfaction could very well be Jesus' most precious gift of all. But it does not seem so to us~ We look within and discover the same faults and vices we have always been burdened with. Prayer has become almost unbearable. Spiritual things in general lose their familiarity and joy. Panic deepens. Life seems turned upside down and inside out. Above all this, the knowl-edge that we have failed the Lord, that we have dropped the standard, that the battle is being lost--this is our deepest sorrow. But although all seems lost, what we experience in reality is the finding of our true life in Jesus. Like our primitivegirl, we, too, begin to realize, at last, that only in Jesus will we find our ever present redemption from our dreaded poverty. Retreat masters, spiritual directors and confessors will do us the greatest favor if they direct their efforts toward instilling in us an abiding trust in the all-loving Providence of God and in the saving life of Jesus. They should help us to mistrust ourselves and to surrender ourselves into His hands. They should teach us to cling to him no matter how dark things seem to be, teach us to have faith in his love and in his forgiveness no matter what we think we have done; no matter how we think we have failed. Signs of Progress What are the signs by which spiritual directors may gauge for certain real progress in contemplatives? Some of the outward manifestations of an inward mystical encounter or of infused contemplation might be the following: We contemplatives might describe to directors an experience of a deep and painful knowledge of ourselves, for we begin to see ourselves as we truly are. We may say that all our illusions are b~ing shattered, especially our illusions of self-importance. We may tell them that all our cherished ambitions are unmasked for the first time, or that we feel our dignity has been overthrown. We will, perhaps, tell them that we are lost; that we are not sure any more if we are leading dedicated lives at all. We exper!ence a growing sense of insecurity. At the same time, strange as it may seem, we experience at~ acceptance of this state. As our native girl found when she op~ned her heart to everything her husband had to offer her, so we contemplatives begin to see everything in a different light. Our lives of austerity, our efforts at mortification will acquire a deeper significance. We understand that as God is our life, we must let nothing take the edge off our need for him. This is a new way of living out our hunger and thirst, our refusing to be satisfied. We are consenting to have no security and no other satisfaction but God; a God who is unseen and unfelt. So near is he and so awesome, that unless we say "Yes" to him all the time, and accept life as he gives it, we must return to our valley of poverty. The temptation to turn back can be overwhelming. But it is also true that we are given a powerful strength at this time, enabling us to persevere. All this, of course, is an effect of Jesus' lox;e for us. We remember, indeed we cannot for a The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction moment forget, that any enrichment in us is all his doing. Still, this is a time of great struggle and temptation. Perhaps the greatest temptation will be to abandon prayer or at least to try to escape, in some way, the grievous suffering of a deep emptiness and poverty within. This empty prayer, however, has tremendous importance. If we consent to wait humbly for the Lord, we will, all unknowingly, find that it is precisely in this arid waste that Jesus is touching us. At this juncture, the contemplative might tell the director of an experience of being literally undone and remade, for there are no half measures any longer. What is really happening is that our faith is being deepened all the time. A sure sign that we contemplatives have not made progress will be precisely the certainty that we have! Alternatively another certain sign of growth might be the gradual disappearance of a tendency to criticize and find fault. There appears instead, a more gentle outlook; a kinder and more compassionate approach, thanks be to God. Love: Human and Divine Love has been our theme all the way through. But now I would like to be a li'ttle more specific about love, I mean the place of both human and divine love in the contemplative life. I think we will all agree that human affection is probably the most sweeping emotion in us. So, from the outset, we need to keep these two loves, the human and the divine, in order, lest the human sweep us off the foundation of the divine. To feel attraction for another, of course, is not wrong. Yet, for some of us, it can and does become a .dangerous thing. We fear to admit our feelings and to accept them, for the very difficulty in doing so can pose a thousand problems for us. At the same time, we know that this is the only healthy approach. It means we are accepting our sexuality and womanliness. I wonder if any of us ever fully grasps what a block to God's transforming action lies in the refusal to face up to and integrate our sexuality, and live it out continently for the glory of God? The Carmelite, Sr. Ruth Burrows states: "Being sexual means basically that 1 am a half and. not a whole. I am incomplete as I am and I tend, unconsciously, always to seek my other half, even though consciously, ! have renounced my right to marry and have children and be made whole by another. But grace does not work fully in a half person, so I struggle to love purely though it be through a great deal of suffering, because Jesus has promised to fill my emptiness with himself and so take away the ache of loneliness. If I am to become whole it will be in him and I must live in the hope of becoming whole in him and in him alone." The greatest danger is that we will try to get rid of the pain. We will even deny that these desires and attractions exist because they do not fit our stereotypic image of "the holy nun for whom God is enough." When we deny these feelings, the temptation will be to seek compensation for what we have given up. Frustrated longing comes to the surface sooner or later. It shows itself in outward behavior 3tl / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 such as domination of others, maternalism (or paternalism), or a passive or child-ish dependence. Who hasn't encountered these types in religious life? There are the old maids or bachelors. They will avoid personal involvements of every kind. In the name of holy recollection, they "keep their hearts for God alone." They are afraid to make friends and so they play it safe. Then there are the frustrated wives and mothers--and we might add, frus-trated fathers. These have never faced up to the truth of their feelings and desires. So they live on compensations instead of on God. They use their friends selfishly, looking for gratification from them. They dominate.and control other lives for their own ends, thinking all the while that this is "holy freedom" and "human fulfillment." To get back to us women: a woman, by nature, is meant to be selfless, receptive, wholly intent on giving and loving, that others 'might become them-selves. But when we see so many religious women leave their institutes these days, giving up their vocation and going back to secular life, we're not judging them when we ask, "Could it be that they did not get the help they needed in this problem of love?" Perhaps they found no one to understand their problem. Was there anyone to whom they could have gone for guidance amid these conflicting feelings, desires and attractions? I think we all need to know that it's alright to feel attraction and affection for others, especially for those of the opposite sex. I think we need to hear again and again that the feeling of attraction is only one side of love; that it may lead to love but that it is not itself real love but only a feeling. And like any feeling, it will not last thus forever. In the meantime, the tension in which we are caught, between our desires for exclusive love and our commitment to universal love, needs some level-headed self-control. We need someone to encourage us tO effort, watchful-ness and patience, humility and trust in divine grace. The struggle will teach us to rely on a spiritual power higher than our own nature. There is no doubt that we will grow from this struggle, which with God's help will become creative. We will learn to grow up, to take total responsibility for our own lives, their choices and decisions. And we will allow no one and nothing to turn us away from the principles by which we wish to live. The ultimate answer is found only when Jesus is re'peatedly placed before us as the object of our whole desire, and when, by repeated redirection, we are gradually transformed into him. Viva Memoria Finally, there comes a time when the interior rending apart, the anxiety, the sense of terrible absence are no more. The mysteries of Jesus, previously seen as the imitation of Christ giving the external principles by'which we were guided, now become our own mysteries, and we live progressively the life of Jesus; we become literally living memories. All that happens to the "personal me" begins to give joyful insight into the knowledge of Jesus himself. ~ Our venerable foundress, Mother Mary Celeste, has something to tell us about The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction this mystical state of contemplation. In her prayer our Lord speaks to her in these words which she passes on to us: "My spouse, abandon your own free will, your willing and your not willing, and leave all to my Divine Providence and my disposal. Make yourself an echo of my Willing. And if I say to you in my good pleasure: 'A cross,' then in your willing, will the cross. And if I say: 'Humiliation and contempt,' then be my echo and say, 'contempt.' And if I say: 'Kiss me with the kiss of sweet union,' then give me the most sweet echo of love and kiss me. It is in this way that you have no other desire or will than the absolute movement of my Will. Thus while you live, I, too, live as if I alone were alive in your very being, a.nd not you yourself." As with the happy couple in our love story, so it is with us: There begins the passing of those intimate glances of complete spiritual understanding. We might say that our whole occupation is love, or that prayer is our life. Either statement would be equally true. Then there is an awareness of deep contentment. That doesn't mean that growth isn't possible. In fact, it has to happen. The surrender becomes deeper and deeper, letting God do everything, totally sure that he will do so. And so ours becomes a life of deeper and deeper trust. We might end this as we began by saying, once again in the words of Sister Ruth Burrows, "Holiness in the contemplative is not a greatness but a total acceptance of human lowliness and total surrender of it to God in trust." Desert--After Fire Twisted; tortured, Bare black This land. Seared, scarred, What remnants remain. Evening whispers, "All is lost." Night mantles dark Deeper than ever touched This fire-scorched earth before. This land will heal. Soft spring rain Will sift tl~rough ashes. Bring new life to seed Concealed beneath the crusted earth. The cross is fire too And bare its wood Which must be aflame Before the Paschal morning dawns To heal and renew. Sister Miriam John, R.G.S. Patterdell 1820 W. Northern Ave. Phoenix, AZ 85021 Indwelling Prayer: Centering in God, Self, Others David J. Hassel, S.J. This article~ is a chapter from a book, Radical Prayer, which Father Hassel hopes soon to publish. An earlier article, "The Feel of Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action," appeared in the issue of May, 198 I. Father continues to reside at Loyola University of Chicago; 6525 North Sheridan Rd.; Chicago, IL 60626. The most radical of all types of prayer may well be indwelling prayer, for its quiet power pulses the movements of all other types of prayer. Indeed, the praying person, carried along by the seeming passivity of indwelling prayer, drifts closer and closer to the inmost self where the~ majestic God waits to welcome him or her warmly. In the attempt to delineate this deepest prayer, the reader's familiarity with various forms of more active prayer will be used as contrasting background for recognizing and appreciating more passive prayer. Some of these more active types of prayer would be: 1) problematic prayer wherein one reviews personal problems with the Lord while expressing various needs arising from them (e.g., peace in a troubled mar-riage, a job sought in the midst of a depressed economy, success in collegiate studies, mental health for a troubled daughter, good weather for the tourist season); 2) insight prayer (meditation): seeing the spiritual meaning of, e.g., a gospel event, a striking sentence in a saint's biography, a friend's casual but penetrating remark, a shocking event witnessed by chance; 3) spaced vocalprayer in which one spaces out the words of a favorite vocal tThe comments of James F. Maguire, S.J., of Edmund Fortman, S.J., and of Mary Ann Hoope, B.V.M., were especially incisive in revising this article for publication. 36 Indwelling Prayer / 37 prayer like the Our Father in order to discover and to reflect upon the fuller meaning of each phrase; 4) gospel contemplative prayer: seeing, hearing, feeling the gospel event as it unfolds in one's imagination; introducing oneself imaginatively into the scene as a friend of the apostles, as a servant girl, as a sick shepherd; 5) petitionary prayer: asking for God's help, e.g., to bring this person back to church, to relieve this person's mental agony, to be able to handle this court case well; 6) liturgicalprayer: the community finding God together in the sacred event of Eucharist, baptism, marriage, anointing of sick, reconciliation of sinners, and so on; 7) affective prayer: wherein feelings of hope, love, fear, anger, and desire (for God, for various virtues for saving situations, for the saints and for friends) operate. These are, of course, not ~all the forms of more active prayer, but they serve to illustrate the meaning of the term more active prayer for our purposes here. Familiarity with these types of more active prayer will later enable one to recognize, by experiential contrast, more passive prayer, and, hence, indwelling ;prayer, the probable source of all types of more passive prayer. Consequently, our first task is not to define abstractly more active prayer against more passive prayer, but instead, to get the "feel" of each by contrasting their diverse types of presence to God, self, and the world. This demands that, in ~/second step, we explore the experience of "presence" and ~ote the paradoxes arising in the presence constitut-ing more passive prayer. Thirdly, we will investigate whether more active and more passive prayer cancel out or nourish each other. In a fourth step, we note how those entering into more passive types of prayer, often undergo the discouraging feeling of prayerlessness, a purifying experience which paradoxically leads into awareness of the indwelling prayer underlying the more passive forms of prayer. At this point, we are finally ready to enter the life-rhythms of indwelling prayer and to search out the ways of doing this trinitarian prayer at the center of our being. Here, too, it should become clear why trinitarian prayer could be the presence underlying all types of prayer. For it reveals death and resurrection at new depths in our being. But for the present let us begin to deal with the diverse presences of more active and more passive prayer. The Diverse Presences of More Active and More Passive Prayer To distinguish more active prayer from more passive prayer is not to abandon one for the other, not to put a premium on one over the other, nor to deny their need of each other. But it is to see how they promote each other and to note how more passive types of prayer are rooted in indwelling prayer. Here definitions can mean nothing if they do not touch our prayer experience, or if they are ambiguous enough to bag together all types of prayer indiscriminately. Therefore we must distinguish these different types of prayer by describing the diverse experiences in which they occur. Let us begin such a process by first trying to discover the root of 311 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 more active prayer. Seven types (among many) of more active prayer were mentioned earlier. Actually all types of more active prayer seem to burgeon out of a single root, a "stretching out to the Lord." What is this stretch? It may well be an attitude towards others which the average good person has. To illustrate this, answer the following questions, and notice what you discover within yourself: i) Why not sleep later than usual today?--Suppose you do inconvenience some people like those in the car pool, like the spouse waiting at the breakfast table, like the other workers in the ,office or at the assembly line, like the students in the classroom? 2) Why pay attention at breakfast to the kids'chatter and the spouse's com-plaints about the leaking roof when the morning paper would be so much more interesting? 3) Why get to work a little bit early in order to get the jump on things so that the day goes better for everyone? 'Why not let others worry about the day? 4) Why help out at this or that emergency when you've got your own job to get done, too? Why not tell them to do the best they can without you since you're busy? 5) Why break off a lively lunch conversation to answer a telephone call or to listen to Henry's usual request for a loan to tide him over the weekend? 6) Why use your midafternoon break for correcting Jenny's letter to the man-ager protesting his failure to put her in charge of the secretary pool? 7) Why correct the kids at the dinner table when it's so much eas'ier to let things go and pretend you didn't see or hear it? 8) When you're dead tired and comfortably waiting for the T.V. news to come on or when you are just starting to relax with a little hi-fi music, why agree to hear the spelling lesson or arbitrate the latest argument betw, een the ten year old and the eleven year oM? 9) Why end and start your day with prayer at the tioes you're most tired? And why go to early Mass on your golf or hairdresser's day and also on Sunday, the only times you can sleep in? In other words, why keep stretching, stretching, stretching through the day unless there is a person waiting at the end of the stretching~ unless there is the Christ or the Father or the Spirit? This refusal to protect yourself from others and from God is a mysterious attitude.'Could it pbssibly be the lure of your vocation, the strength of your friendship with Christ (and therefore with his people, your people)? Could this attitude even be the taproot of 'all the types of more active prayer in your life? Could it even be the basic source of your contentment with life underneath all its irritations, failures, missed opportunities, and dashed hopes? Of course, this "stretch" attitude underlying more active prayer is. buried within one's consciousness and so it can be discovered only through the type of question-ing just completed. Yet is there riot some single directing lure running like'a golden thread through the "stretch" of the day to gi~,e direction and meaning to one's life? Indwelling Prayer And does this thread not lead eventually to the attractive Christ who alone makes fitting sense out of one's life? How can a person stretch out to all the needy unless first God is stretching out to him or her? .Here active prayer is seen as presence to the world and its needs--a presence inspired by Christ's appealing call. It would seem, then, that we may have tapped the root of more active prayer and are now ready to find the source of more passive prayer. More. passive prayer is often defined as a resting in God or a quiet'alertness to God and to others. Thomas Green describes it as "floating freely in th~ sea of God," as allowing God to direct oneself wherever he wills.2 In common with more active prayer, it is a refusal to protect oneself, it is an availability to God and to others. This common element,,hints at a deeper experience underlying both more active and more passive prayer and uniting them. And yet these two types of. prayers are quite different .since more passive prayer is often like a sinking into one's inner depths to find God; while more active prayer is a stretching out to others and to God in others. Even when more passive prayer is awareness of a God-vibrancy in clouds, trees, animals, and people's faces, voices, gestures, it nevertheless is more a stirring in the depths of one's being than a reaching out to touch. Even when one becomes aware of God somehow speaking and acting through the other person, passive prayer is more an alertness within one's own being than the message in the other's'action. Indeed, more passive prayer is, for the most part, careful listening, long waiting, occasionally a soundless crying out to God in his seeming absence. At other times, it is. allowing the Spirit to pray in me to the Father without my having any control; it is letting Jesus invade me totally,in my powerlessness and then .experiencing the resultant clash of fear and gladness within me. , ~ As more passive prayer progresses in the person, it can distill into a simple presenting of the self to the Lord. It is merely a "wanting to be with God" which is often intensified by Eucharistic presence. It is a wordless, thoughtless, imageless facing to .God. It is almost pure presence at the deepest level of experience; while in the upper levels of experience one can be .simultaneously aware of pain in one's posture, of distracting thoughts and images, of feelings of fatigue or elation. But the latter appear negligible compared to the facing of God. Here the praying person is facir~g not only God but also the mystery of presence itself. Perhaps the feeling and meaning of presence hold the key to understanding more passive prayer~ The Experience of Presence: Its Paradoxes in More Passive Prayer What is the "feel" of presence for us? It can be the invigorating experience of knowing that one's father and mother are listening proudly during one's piano 2Thomas H. Green, S.J., When the Well Runs Dr), (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1978), p. 150. Just as this book is ekcellent for its descriptions of more passive prayer, so his Opening to God (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1977) describes well more active prayer and delineates simply and directly the basic principles of beginners' prayer. tll~ / Review for Relig!ous, Jan.-Feb., 1982 recital~ or watching eagerly from the basketball grandstands for one's next basket. It can also be the sense of depletion, of sinking heart, when one sees the "enemy" coming into the room, hostile and even malevolent, to observe one's expected failure. Presence can be a sustaining strength in the hospital room. No need for words or for the busy alleviating of pain, just the steady touch of being there. Presence is an enriching moment when the vast anonymity of the great airport terminal'is shattered by a familiar voice calling one's name. Sometimes "absence" can sharpen one's awareness of what presence is. One observes two people talking to each other but neither listening, each waiting impatiently for his or her turn to speak. Absence can be the "freeze" where two people working side-by-side in a bakery or in an office, condemn each other heartily and render the eight-hour day coldly miserable for each other. The politi-cal handshake can be an insult when the state's leader has shaken three hands while still talking to the first hand. Here absence hardly makes the heart grow fonder. Presence, at times, seems to grow without any effort on one's part. Old friends go to the concert together. As soon as the music begins, they~are rapt and seem-ingly totally oblivious to the other. But neither would consider for a moment going to the concert alone. Underneath the silent raptness, their friendship continues to grow quietly--a conclusion proven by a new depth of sharing as they return home amid slow, mulling conversation. Not rarely three friends hike the mountain trails for six to eight hours with only an occasional word and: an almost silent midday lunch. Yet the enjoyment of each other is intense and, underneath the quiet calm, intimacy grows. It would seem that the beauty of music and nature mysteriously sensitizes each person to the other instead of distracting each from the other. This sense of the other's person deepens over the years; familiarity does not always breed co.ntempt. The tight-knit family may have more than its share of private squabbles, but its members have a true sixth sense when one of them is in jeopardy or in deep joy and they quickly arrive to rescue or to rejoice. Such a family, over the years, develops a secret language of grimace, wink, smile and code-words which sum up a lifetime of shared sorrows and laughs; the person of each is uniquely appreciated. The lover of many years still feels a _leap of heart when the beloved comes into the room or when the lover hears the beloved's laugh from the far side of the party chatter. The lover's heart affirms the beloved's "simply being there"---apart from what he or she is saying or doing;just as the two concert-goers and the three hikers are doing more than enjoying music and nature. They find in the being of music and mountains a new way in which to resonate to each other's being, i.e., to grow in the intimacy of friendship. For what is intimacy if not this acquired ability to live deeply with each other, to resonate in each other's very being, in such a way that friends can, on occasion, say to each other: "It doesn't really matter much where we go or what we do so long as we are together." Such intimacy, expressed through quick knowing glance, light caress, exuberant play, and the clasp of hand, perdures and grows at the being-level in emergency rooms, during sweaty decision-times about job and fam- Indwelling Prayer ily, on the beach, at the "graduation ceremonies" of the retarded child, at the birthday parties, within the many hasty breakfasts and more leisurely suppers. From all this, could one say that "presence" is intimacy or mutual resonance at the level of being? If so, then this could reveal much about the dynamics between more active and more passive types of prayer. If presence would be deep awareness of the other's very being, then "the prayer of simple presence" to God could be the praying person's affirming of God's being and God's affirming of the praying person's being. In more passive prayer of simple presence, one becomes aware of Christ and of his interests because one now allows him to enter oneself and one's work at the level of one's very being or personhood? In more passive prayer, God becomes more real for the praying person because the latter lets God be more real, i.e., lets God be Being Itself. The praying person does this by refusing to box up God within her or his own ideas, theories, and expectations. Rather, this person allows God to act in him or her: by remaining passive, he or she gives God time to become more present to the self. Paradoxically, then, more passive prayer renders a person more fully present to God and to self than does more active prayer. Through more passive prayer, the person becomes literally a being-for-God. Indeed, the divine name, Yahweh, comes to mean not merely "I am who am" but also "I am the One who will be for you." Is it possible that at this juncture we have reached that basic attitude of prayer which underlies all other attitudes of prayer? Is this the most radical of all prayers? For this basic attitude is the very being of a person as a "being-for-God." At this point, a second paradox comes into view. In more passive prayer, because the praying person is more present to self and to God at the level of being, he or she can now meet others at their being-level, not just humans but also animals, plants, and even non-vital things like mountains, rivers, fire, and stars. For with the experience of God's tender regard for oneself as unique and undying comes the ability to appreciate others as having unique worth and destiny. It is no wonder, then, that through more passive prayer, the praying person paradoxically becomes more actively present to the whole wide world. Even distant horizons are expanded by the intimate depth at which beings resonate with each other. For this reason more passive prayer renders the praying person more active in works for the family, the neighborhood, the Church--and also more hopeful because more trusting of the Holy Spirit's activity in the self and in others. More passive prayer, in making the perso.n less trusting of his or her own activity apart from God, has enabled the person to become more bold for the Church by 3Karl Rahner speaks of this passivity when describing the conditions of transcendence. "[Transcen-dence] may not be understood as an active mastering of the knowledge of God by one's own power, and hence also as a mastery of God himself. By its very nature subjectivity is always a transcendence which listens, which does not control, which is overwhelmed by mystery and opened up by mystery . Transcendence exists only by opening itself beyond itself, and, to put it in biblical languag,e, it is in its origin and from the very beginning the experience of being known by God himself" (Foundations of Christian Faith [New York: Seabury, 1978], p. 58). 42 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 allowing God to enter the self and to power the latter's actions. This is where personal vanity becomes reduced and the confidence in self-sacrifice gets increased. Evidently, the more passively praying person is more consciously a "being-for- God" and more clearly sees God as "I am the One who will be for you." The Differences Challenge and Nourish Each Other At this point having described more active and more passive prayer for them-selves, we are now in position to etch out their differences and to discover why these two types of prayer are called "more active" and "more passive" rather than simply active and passive prayer. It would appear that more active prayer is more conceptual than its counterpart, that is, more concerned with ideas and insight. It is also more creatively imaginative as it deals with plans of action, options for decisions, visions for the future, ambitions for the present. Again, more active prayer is more consciously integrative around a central idea or insight: "As 1 see it, the one great value in life is . "or "The central theme in my prayer is . " It is more apt to try to control: "We could set up this system of priorities, then get that done immediately; then . " It is more energetic, that is, more work oriented, more prone to gathering achievements. Finally, it is more bodily, because action in the world is incarnated through the body. On the other hand, more passive prayer is more affective than conceptual, more conscious of feelings for the other and in the other; therefore; it is more value oriented than vision enthralled. It is also more receptive than creative in its use of the imagination; thus, art and nature speak out more clearly and enter more movingly into the person praying more passively. It is more integrative by person or spirit than by idea: "This person loves me and so 1 can take the hard knocks ahead," or "1 don't quite understand her plan, but I trust her and will do what she says," Indeed, more 'passive prayer is, strangely, more spontaneous than con-trolled; it is more disturbing, more surprising, more dangerous to a person's careful selfishness. One says more often: "This happening in prayer wa~ a rather unex-pected revelation for me; I'm not sure 1 like this turn of events." Again, in more passive prayer there is more waiting, more expectancy, more sharp listening: "Nothing seems to be happening for days, and then boom ."Finally, it is more soulful in its reflective sinking into the self to find God. It should be clearer now that one must name these two types of prayer more active and more passive lest we split the personality of prayer. For both types are active and both are passive but with different emphases. For example, both use concepts, imagination, and feelings; but more active prayer is more conceptual than affective and the reverse is true of passive prayer. More active prayer deals more often with the creative imagination and more passive prayer works more often with the receptive imagination; but both types of prayer, working' in one and the same imagination, use not only the creative but also the receptive function of the imagination. All this would seem to point to their radical unity, especially since in both types the praying person has the intent not to prote,ct and to comfort the self but rather Indwelling Prayer / 43 to be available to God and to his people. Indeed, it would appear that either type of prayer would go slack and die without the appropriate challenge of the other type: Without the "stretch" of more active prayer, more passive prayer could wallow deep in the self and even forget God, much more his people. Without the "reflective sinking into being" of more passive prayer, more active prayer can end up in such a welter of action that the "stretch" could one day shred into a thousand loose strands of frenetic, superficial activities having no center of being, no rever-ence for others, no undying future. But actually, both types of prayer can challenge and nourish the other. More active prayer is concerned with "putting it all together," with having the world make final sense, so that the world is somehow under control. More active prayer works that the praying person may "have it all together," may be totally integrated as a wholesome person, not fragmented or tormented, so that the praying person may control her or his destiny. On the other hand, more passive prayer forces the praying person to face the fact that he or she is a being totally dependent on God whom he or she must trust in the midst of personal fragmentation and of a world gone awry~ More active prayer wants the resurrection now and the beatific vision now just as they are promised in every love song; in all ~great poetry and drama, and in the apocalyptic literature of the Bible. In contrast, more passive prayer demands that the praying person wait and listen, become excruciatingly aware of shortcomings and sins within one's being or personhood, know his or her absolute powerlessness to do anything worthwhile apart from God, be content for now with much less than immediate resurrection and beatific vision. Neither prayer denies the truth of the other's intent; neither claims to have all the truth, but each challenges the other to greater realism about self, God, and the world. Each depends on the challenge of the other as more active prayer aims at total wholesomeness of self and world in God and as more passive prayer aims at enduring the fragmentation of self and dislocation of world until God heals them both~ There is, however, more than challenge between the two types of prayer. Each nourishesand promotes the other. The more active forms of prayer (e.g., the seven mentioned earlier) lead into the more passive forms of prayer, which in turn.root more deeply the ensuing more active forms of prayer. For example, meditative or mental prayer focuses the praying person's powers on particular objects such asan event of Christ's life, Mary's motherhood of the Church, the mystery of the Eucharist, God's plan for the individual or gr

Issue 32.4 of the Review for Religious, 1973. ; Review ]or Religious is edited by faculty members of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right © 1973 by Review ]or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.25. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review [or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. R. F. Smith, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor July 1973 Volume 32 Number 4 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts, books for review, and materials for "Subject Bibliography for Religious" should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. The Testament of Unmeasured Love Congregation [or the Discipline o[ the Sacraments The following is an instruction on the Eucharist dated January 29, 1973, but not publicly released until March 29, 1973. The Latin title of the instruction is lntmensae caritatis; the translation is that which appeared in the English edition of Osservatore ro/~ltltlo. Christ the Lord has left to the Church, His Spouse, a testament of His im-mense love. This wonderful gift of the Eucharist, which is the greatest gift of all, demands that such an important mystery should be increasingly bet-ter known and its saving power more fully shared. With the intention ot~ fostering devotion to the Eucharist--the summit and center of Christian worship--the Church, moved by pastoral zeal and concern, has on more than one occasion issued suitable laws and appropriate documents. Present-day conditions however demand that, while the utmost reverence owing to such a Sacrament~ is constantly maintained, greater access to Holy 1See the Council of Trent, Session 13, Decretutn de SS. Eucharistiae Sacramento, c. 7; DB 880 (DS 1646-1647): "If it is not fitting .for anyone to approach any sacred functions except in a state of holiness, then certainly to the extent that the holiness and godliness of this heavenly Sacrament is more and more known to the Christian, all the more must he take care that he does not come to receive it without great reverence and holiness, especially because of the fearful words of the Apostle which we read: 'A person who eats and drinks without recognizing the Body of the Lord is eating and drinking his own condemnation' (I Cor 11:29). Thus the following precept should be recalled to the one desirous of receiving Holy Communion: 'Let a man so examine himself' (1 Cor 11:28). Ecclesiastical custom declares that the proving of one's self is necessary so that no one, conscious of having committed mortal sin, though considering himself contrite, should approach the Holy Eucharist without first having made a sacramental confession. This Holy Synod declares that this must perpetually be observed by all Christians, even by priests whose duty it is to celebrate Mass, as long as there is an availability of confessors. If in the case of urgent necessity 721 722 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 Communion should be made possible so that the faithful, by sharing more fully in the fruits of the sacrifice of the Mass, might dedicate themselves more readily and effectively to God and to the good of the Church and of mankind. First of all, provision must be made lest reception become impossible or difficult owing to a lack of a sufficient number of ministers. Provision must also be made lest the sick be deprived of such a great spiritual consolation by being impeded from receiving Holy Communion because of the law of fast, which they may not be able to observe, even though it be already very moderate. Finally, it seems appropriate to determine in which circumstances the faithful who ask to receive sacramental Communion a second time on the same day may be permitted fittingly to do so. After a study of the recommendations of episcopal conferences the fol-lowing norms are issued in regard to: 1. extraordinary ministers for the distribution of Holy Communion; 2. a more extensive faculty of receiving Holy Communion twice in the same day; 3. mitigation of the Eucharistic fast for the sick and elderly; 4. the piety and reverence owing to the Blessed Sacrament whenever the Eucharist is placed in the hand of the communicant. Extraordinary Ministers of Communion There are various circumstances in which a lack of sufficient ministers for the distribution of Holy Communion can occur: --during Mass, because of the size of the congregation or a particular difficulty in which a celebrant finds himself; --outside of Mass, when it is difficult because of distance to take the sacred species, especially the Viaticum, to the sick in danger of death, or when the very number of the sick, especially in hospitals and similar insti-tutions, requires many ministers. Therefore, in order that the faithful, who are in the state of grace and who with an upright and pious disposition, wish to share in the Sacred Banquet, may not be deprived of this sacramental help and consolation, it has seemed appropriate to the Holy Father to establish extraordinary ministers, who may give Holy Communion to themselves and to other faithful under the following determined conditions: I. Local ordinaries have the faculty to permit a suitable person indi-vidually chosen as an extraordinary minister for a specific occasion or for a time or, in the case of necessity, in some permanent way, either to give a priest will have celebrated without previous confession, he is to make a confession as soon as possible." See also Sacred Congregation of the Council, the decree Sacra "Tridentina Synodus (December 20, 1905), AAS, v. 38 (1905-1906), pp. 400-6; Sacred Congregation for the Do(trine of the Faith, Normae pastorales circa absolu-tionem sacramentalem generali modo impertiendam (July 31, 1972), Norm 1, AAS, v. 64 (1972), p. 511. The Testament of Unmeasured Love / 72:1 the Eucharist to himself or to other faithful and to take it to the sick who are confined to their homes. This faculty may be used whenever a) there is no priest, deacon, or acolyte; b) these are prevented from administering Holy Communion because of another pastoral ministry or because of ill health or advanced age; c) the number of faithful requesting Holy Communion is such that the celebration of Mass or the distribution of the Eucharist outside of Mass would be t~nduly prolonged. II. Local ordinaries also have the faculty to permit individual priests exercising their sacred office to appoint a suitable person who in cases of genuine necessity would distribute Holy Communion for a specific occasion. III. The above-mentioned local ordinaries can delegate these faculties to auxiliary bishops, episcopal vicars, and episcopal delegates. IV. The suitable person to whom numbers I and II refer shall be desig-nated according to the following order: lector, student of major seminary, male religious, woman religious, catechist, Catholic man or woman. This order, however, can be changed according to the prudent judgment of the local ordinary. V. In oratories of religious communities of either sex the office of dis-tributing Holy Communion in the circumstances described in number I can fittingly be given to a male superior not having major orders or to a woman superior or to their respective vicars. VI. If time permits, it is fitting that the suitable person individually chosen by the local ordinary for administering Holy Communion, as well as the person appointed by a priest having the faculty spoken of in number II, should receive the mandate according to the rite annexed to this instruc-tion; they are to distribute Holy Communion according to the liturgical norms. Since these faculties are granted only for the spiritual good of the faith-ful and for cases of genuine necessity, priests are to remember that they are not thereby excused from the task of distrib.uting the Eucharist to the faith-ful who legitimately request it, aid especially from taking and giving it to the sick. The person who has been appointed to be an ~xtraordinary minister of Holy Communion is necessarily to be duly instructed and should distinguish himself by his Christian life, faith, and morals. Let him strive to be worthy of this great office; let him cultivate devotion to the Holy Eucharist and show himself as an example to the other faithful by his piety and reverence for this most holy Sacrament of the Altar. Let no one be chosen whose selec-tion may cause scandal among the faithful. Communion Twice in the Same Day According to the discipline currently in force, the faithful are permitted to receive Holy Communion a second time: 724 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 ---~n the evening of Saturday or of the day preceding a holyday of obli-gation, when they intend to fulfill the precept of hearing Mass, even though they have already received Holy Communion in the morning of that same day'-'; --at the second Mass of Easter and at one of the Masses celebrated on Christmas Day, even if they have already received Holy Communion at the Mass of the Paschal Vigil or at the midnight Mass of Christmas:~; ---likewise at the evening Mass of Holy Thursday, even if they have re-ceived Holy Communion at the earlier Mass of the Chrism." Since, beyond these circumstances which have been mentioned, there are similar occasions which suggest that Holy Communion might fittingly be received twice in the same day, it is necessary here to determine more pre-cisely the reasons for the new faculty. The norm which the Church, a most provident Mother, has introduced according to venerable custom and included in canon law by which the faith-ful are permitted to receive Holy Communion only once a day remains in-tact nor is it permitted to be set aside merely from motives of devotion. To a simple desire for repeated reception of Holy Communion it should be an-swered that the power of the Sacrament by which faith, charity, and the other virtues are nourished, strengthened, and expressed is all the greater to the extent that one more devoutly approaches the sacred table.~ For, from the liturgical celebration the faithful should go out to the works of charity, piety, and apostolic action so that "they may hold fast by their conduct and life to what they have received by faith and the Sacrament.''" Special circumstances, however, can occur when the faithful who have already received Holy Communion that same day, or even priests who have already celebrated Mass, may be present at some community celebration. They may receive Holy Communion again in the following instances: 1. at those Masses in which the Sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation, Anointing of the Sick, Sacred Orders, and Matrimony are administered; also at a Mass at which First Communion is received~; 2. at Masses at which a church or altar is consecrated; at Masses of religious profession or for the conferring of a "canonical mission"; '-'Sacred Congregation of Rites, the instruction Eucharisticum mysterium (May 25, 1967), n. 28, AAS, v. 59 (1967), p. 557. :qbid. q.bid.; see also Sacred Congregation of Rites, the instruction Inter oecumenici (Septem-ber 26, 1964), n. 60, AAS, v. 56 (1964), p. 891; and the instruction Tres abhinc annos (May 4, 1967), n. 14, AAS, v. 59 (1967), p. 445. ~See Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, 3, q. 79, a. 7 ad 3; and a. 8 ad 1. ~Sacred Congregation of Rites, the instruction Eucharisticum mysterium (May 25, 1967), n. 13, AAS, v. 59 (1967), p. 549. rSee Missale romanum, "Institutio generalis Missalis romani," 329 a; p. 90 in the "editio tipica" of 1970. The Testament of Unmeasured Love / 725 3. at the following Masses of the Dead: the funeral Mass, the Mass celebrated after notification of death, the Mass on the day of final burial, and the Mass on the first anniversary; 4. at the principal Mass celebrated in the cathedral or in the parish on the feast of Corpus Christi and on the day of a parochial visitation; at the Mass celebrated by the major superior of a religious community on the oc-casion of a canonical visitation, of special meetings, or of chapters; 5. at the principal Mass of a Eucharistic or Marian Congress, whether international or national, regional or diocesan; 6. at the principal Mass of any congress, sacred pilgrimage, or preach-ing mission for the people; 7. in the administration of Viaticum, in which Communion can also be given to the relatives and friends of the patient; 8. also local ordinaries may, besides those cases mentioned above, grant permission "ad actum" to receive Holy Communion twice in the same day, as often as they shall judge it truly justified by reason of genuinely special circumstances, according to the norm of this instruction. Mitigation of the Eucharistic Fast Above all it remains firmly decreed that a person to whom Viaticum is administered in danger of death is not bound by any law of fasting,s Like-wise remaining in force is the concession already granted by Pius XII whereby "the sick, even if not confined to bed, can take non-alcoholic drinks and medicines in either liquid or solid form before the celebration of Mass and the reception of the Eucharist without any restriction of time."" In the case of foods and drinks taken for the purpose of nutrition, that tradition is to be respected according to which the Eucharist should be re-ceived, as Tertullian said, "before any food""' so as to indicate the excel-lence of the sacramental food. In order to appreciate the dignity of the Sacrament and to prepare with joy for the coming of the Lord, a time of silence and recoliection before the reception of Holy Communion is opportune. In the case of the sick, how-ever, it will be a sufficient sign of piety and reverence if, for a brief period of time, they turn their minds to the greatness of the mystery. The period of time of the Eucharistic fast or abstinence from food and alcoholic drink is reduced t+ approximately one quarter of an hour, forthe following: 1. the sick in hospitals or in their own homes, even if they are not con-fined to bed; 2. the faithful advanced in age who must remain at home because of age or who are living in a home for the aged; ~See canon 858, § 1. 9Motu proprio Sacram Communionem (March 19, 1957), n. 4, AAS, v. 49 (1957), p. 178. ~OAd uxorem, 2, 5; PL, v. 1, 1408. 726 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 3. sick priests, even if not confined to bed, and elderly priests, who wish to celebrate Mass or receive Holy Communion; 4. persons looking after the sick and the aged as well as those relatives of the sick and aged wishing to receive Holy Communion with them, when-ever they are unable to observe the fast of one hour without inconvenience. Reverence During Hand Reception Since the instruction Memoriale Domini was published three years ago, some episcopal conferences have sought the faculty from the Apostolic See to allow the minister of Holy Communion to place the Eucharistic species in the hands of the faithful. As that instruction recalled, "the precepts of the Church and the documents of the Fathers amply testify that the deepest reverence and the greatest prudence have been shown with regard to the Holy Eucharist,''11 and should continue to be shown. Especially in this man-ner of receiving Holy Communion some points indicated by experience should be most carefully observed. Let the greatest diligence and care be taken particularly with regard to fragments which perhaps break off the hosts. This applies to the minister and to the recipient whenever the Sacred Host is placed in the hands of the communicant. Before initiating the practice of giving Holy Communion in the hand a suitable instruction and catechesis of Catholic doctrine is necessary con-cerning both the real and permanent presence of Christ under the Eucharistic species and the reverence due to this Sacrament.lz It is necessary to instruct the faithful that Jesus Christ is the Lord and Savior and that the same worship and adoration given to God is owed to Him present under the sacramental signs. Let the faithful be counseled there-fore not to omit a sincere and fitting thanksgiving after the Eucharistic ban-quet, such as may accord with each one's particular ability, state, and duties.1:' So that participation in this heavenly table may be altogether worthy and profitable, the value and effects deriving from it for both the individual and the community must be pointed out to the faithful in such a way that their familiar attitude reveals reverence, fosters that intimate love for the Father of the household who gives us "our daily bread,''1'~ and leads ~lSacred Congregation for Divine Worship, the instruction Metnoriale Domini (May 29, 1969), AAS, v. 61 (1969), p. 542, which remains in force. lzSee Vatican Council II, Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Con-cilium, n. 7, AAS, v. 56 (1969), pp. 100-1; Sacred Congregation of Rites, the instruc-tion Eucharisticum mysterium (May 25, 1967), n. 9, AAS, v. 59 (1967), p. 547; and Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship, the instruction Memoriale Domini, which states: ". all danger of the spreading of irreverence or false opinions concerning the Holy Eucharist is to be avoided," AAS, v. 61 (1969), p. 545. 13Paul VI, the address Ad membra Consilii Eucharisticis ex omnibus nationibus con-ventibus moderandis habita, AAS, v. 64 (1972), p. 287. 14See Lk 11:3. The Testament of Unmeasured Love / 727 to a living relationship with Christ of whose flesh and blood we partake.'~ The Supreme Pontiff Paul VI has approved and sanctioned this instruc-tion by his authority and directed that it should be published, decreeing that it should enter into force on the day of its publication. Given in Rome, at the Sacred Congregation for the Discipline of the Sacraments, 29 January 1973. A. Card. SAMORE Prefect ¯ J. CASORIA Secretary l~See Heb 2:14. Documents on the 1975 Holy Year Paul VI At the general audiences of May 9, 1973, and of May 16, 1973, Pope Paul VI an-nounced a Holy Year for 1975. Previous to May 9, 197'3, a set of directives for the celebration of the 1975 Holy Year had been drawn up and was published in the English language edition of Osservatore romatto, May 16, 1973, page 11. On May 9, 1973, Monsignor Enrico Bartoletti and Monsignor Wladislaw Rubin gave a Vatican Press Conference on the 1975 Holy Year. These four documents are given below in the translations published in the issues of May 16 and May 24, 1973, of the English language Osservatore romano. ALLOCUTION OF MAY 9 Today there is something we would like to tell you, something which we believe is important for the spiritual life of the Church. It is this: After having prayed and meditated we have decided to celebrate in 1975 a Holy Year when the interval of twenty-five years fixed by our predecessor Paul II in the papal bull inefJabilis providentia of April 17 1940 will haveexpired. The Holy Year, which in canonical language is known as the "Jubilee," meant in the Biblical tradition of the Old Testament a year of special public observance, with abstention from normal work, a return to the original distribution of land, the cancelation of existing debts, and the freeing of Hebrew slaves (see Lev 25: 8ft.). In the history of the Church, as you know, the Jubilee was instituted by Boniface VIII in the year 1300 for a purely spiritual purpose. It consisted in making a penitential pilgrimage to the tombs of the Apostles Peter and Paul. Dante was among those who took part in it and he gives a description of the crowds thronging the city of Rome (see Inferno 18, 28-33). Later in 1500 there was added to the Jubilee the opening of the Holy Doors of the Basilicas which were to be visited. This was intended not only to facilitate the influx of penitents but also to sym-bolize easier access to divine mercy through the gaining of the Jubilee indulgence. 728 Documents on the 1975 Holy Year / 729 We have asked ourself if such a tradition should be continued in our times which are so different from times gone by and so conditioned both by the style of religion given to ecclesial life by the recent Council and by the practical lack of interest .of many parts of the modern world in the ritual expression of other centuries. We have, however, been convinced that the celebration of the Holy Year not only can be consistently fitted in with the spiritual line adopted by the Council itself which it is our responsibility to develop faithfully-~but can also be very well harmonized with and con-tribute to the tireless and loving efforts being made by the Church to meet the moral needs of our time, to interpret its deepest aspirations, and to ac-cept honestly certain forms of its preferred external manifestations. Essential Concept of the Holy Year In view of the variety of purposes it is necessary to stress what is the essential concept of the Holy Year. It is the interior renewal of man: of the man who thinks and who in his thought has lost the certainty of truth; of the man who works and who in his work has realized that he is so extro-verted that he no longer fully possesses communication with himself; of the man who enjoys life and who so amuses himself and has so many exciting ways to gain pleasurable experience that he soon feels bored and dis-illusioned. Man must be renewed from within. This is what the gospel calls conversion, penance, and a change of heart. It is the process of self-rebirth. It is simple, like a clear and courageous act of conscience and at the same time complex like a long, instructive, and reforming apprenticeship. It is also a moment of grace, and usually one does .not obtain grace without bowing one's head. And we do not think we err in detecting in modern man profound dissatisfaction, satiety coupled with insufficiency, unhappiness produced by false formulas for happiness with which he is intoxicated, and dismay at not knowing how to enjoy the thousand and one pleasures that civilization offers him in abundahce. In other words, man needs an interior renewal such as that hoped for by the Council. The Holy Year is oriented precisely to this personal and interior renewal, which under certain aspects is also exterior. It is an easy and at the same time extraordinary therapy which should bring spiritual well-being to every conscience and indirectly, at least to some extent, to the attitude of society. This is the general theme of the next Holy Year which, however, will also be centered upon another and special theme that is oriented to practical living: reconciliation. Reconciliation The term, "reconciliation," evokes the concept opposite to that of a break. What break would we have to mend in order to reach that recon-ciliation which is the condition for the desired renewal of the Jubilee? What break? But is it not perhaps enough to use this word reconciliation, which 730 / Review 1or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 involves a whole program, to realize that our life is disturbed by too many breaks, too much disharmony, too much disorder to be able to enjoy the gifts of personal and collective life according to their ideal finality? We need above all to reestablish a genuine, vital, and happy relationship with God, to be reconciled with Him in humility and love, so that from this first basic harmony the whole world of our experience may express a need and acquire a virtue of reconciliation in charity and justice with men to whom we im-mediately give the new title of "brothers." Moreover, reconciliation takes place in other vast and very real areas: within the ecclesial community it-self, in society, in the relations among nations, in ecumenism, in the sphere of peace, and so forth. If God permits us to celebrate the Holy Year, it will have many things to tell us in this regard. Local Churches First Let us now limit ourselves to pointing out an important aspect of the structure of the next Holy Year. According to the centuries-old custom, the Holy Year has its focal point in Rome. And it will still be so, but with this innovation. The conditions prescribed for acquiring special spiritual benefits will this time be anticipated and granted to the local churches so that the whole Church spread throughout the world may be able to profit immedi-ately from this great occasion of renewal and reconciliation. In this way the entire Church will be better able to prepare for the climax and conclu-sion of the Holy Year, which wil~ be celebrated in Rome in the year 1975, and which will give to the traditonal pilgrimage to the tombs of the Apostles its traditional~ meaning for those who are able and wish to make the pil-grimage. And this important and salutary spiritual and penitential move-ment, which involves the entire Church and which will be accompanied by the granting of special indulgences, will begin on the coming Feast of Pentecost, June I0. On former occasions, the extension of the Holy Year came after its celebration in Rome; now this extension will precede the cele-bration in Rome. Everyone can see how this innovation also includes an intention of honoring with more evident and effective communion the local churches which are living members of the one universal Church of Christ. This will suffice for the present. But by the grace of God we shall have many other things to say on this matter. May our Apostolic Blessing be with all of you. ALLOCUTION OF MAY 16 Last week we announced to our visitors at the general audience that there will be a Holy Year in 1975, but with an opening in the local churches, that is, in the various dioceses and therefore in the individual parishes and ec-clesial communities, on the forthcoming Feast of Pentecost on June 10 [1973]. In this way all the faithful in the world will have the time and the opportunity to take part in this great exercise of religious and moral renewal Documents on the 1975 Hoiy Year / 731 even before it is celebrated in Rome in the year that has been established. Thus the spiritual benefits can be obtained even by those who will not have the happy possibility of coming on pilgrimage to the tombs of the Apostles in, the "Eternal City." Interest in the Event The announcement has aroused great interest in the world as a fact which, because of its extension, concerns in various ways the entire earth. It has. also, as is natural, aroused great interest in the Catholic Church. It is an event which concerns every one of her members, renewing in her the spiritual vibrations of years and centuries of her past history and bringing back the tide of renewal of the recent Council. It provides a motive and a strength for her perennial evangelizing discussion with human society, per-vaded in our days by deep and restless changes. This first welcome of the sound of the Jubilee trumpet (the term, "Jubilee" refers in fact to the trumpets with which the seventh, or sabbatical year, and the beginning of the fiftieth year were announced among the Jews in ancient times) gives us great pleasure and reason to hope for the positive outcome of this recurring ecclesial initiative. Among many voices, we must single out as highly significant and authori-tative that of Cardinal Marty, Archbishop of Paris, who on his own behalf and on 'behalf of all the French bishops, w~lcomes our decision with jo~, and makes it ~his own, all the more willingly in that it coincides with his own pastoral concerns. So too we warmly thank the Italian Episcopal Conference for having at once echoed our invitation with its fervent and promised support. We tell you this, beloved Brothers and Sons, and dear Visitors, and together with you all those who may hear of this comment of ours on the announcement of the forthcoming Holy Year, to exhort all of you to give this announcement its due importance. It must really be taken seriously. It does not concern a fleeting moment of our journey in time; it concerns an orientation of our modern life at the end of the twentieth century. It does not refer to a particular aspect of our mental and moral behavior but invests our entire way of thinking and living. Two Principal Realities It is a question, in other words, of an overall examination of our out-look with regard to two principal realities: the religion that we profess and the world in which we live. Religion and the world; faith and mundane experience; the Christian conception of life and a conception without light, principles, duties, and hopes transcending our journey in time which leads inexorably to temporal death. The time has come to measure our adherence to Christ in the conflict which it must wage with forms of thought and action that disregard the gos- 732 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 pel and its salvation. The moment is ripe for a complete act of conscience about supreme values and subordinate values; it is time for a choice that is not only practical and submissive, but also pondered and binding about the general character we wish to imprint upon our existence: Is it Christian or is it not? And this means ultimately, is it really human or not? We could prolong this interrogation by proposing so many other alternatives, or rather so may other antitheses, such as: Do we want to be real followers of Christ or just mere names on the' register of the baptized and therefore freewheeling hypocrites condemned by the principles and exigencies that we ourselves claim to profess? Do we want to make God and Christ the center that conditions and harmonizes our fife with its drama of redemption and its un-failing present and final happiness, or do we wish to place in ourselves, in our absorbing and fallacious selfishness, the hinge of our every movement? Do we want to embrace in love and solidarity our brothers, near and far, or do we wish to close the circle of our social outlook within narrow self-interest, walled up in a bitter individual or collective selfishness, and there-fore armed with hatred and struggle, incapable of real love? And so on. A New Synthesis We wish that this the Holy Year may constitute a general balance sheet of our ideas, of our conception of our higher duties, and our real interests, and that it may guide us to a new synthesis of our ancient faith, living and necessary, and the pressing program of modern life, not so much in a supine compromise, but rather in an intelligent Christian harmony, admittedly demanding certain renunciations and austerities but yielding fruits of sincere humanity and authentic happiness. In a word, it is the philosophy of life that is at stake, that which recog-nizes, with Bergson, that the greater the progress of scientific, technical, economic, and social development today, the more man needs a "spiritual supplement" in order not to fall victim to his own conquests. It is the theology of life as outlined by the Council which, ten years after its conclusion, challenges our faithfulness to its renewing word and our capacity to reconstitute our personal conscience and our society in justice and peace. For the moment we thank the Lord who breathes upon the world, upon the Church, and in our souls these majestic thoughts; and we pray to Him that they may enlighten and bring life to you, to everyone, according to His Spirit. And we bestow on you our Apostolic Blessing. DIRECTIVES FOR THE 1975 HOLY YEAR On May 9 the Holy Father will make the preliminary announcement of a Jubilee Year for the interior renewal of men. In Catholic tradition going back to the year 1300, the Holy Year has a purely spiritual meaning and Documents on tJ~e 1975 Holy Year / 733 has always been seen as a manifestation of profound piety and of the unity of the Church expressed especially in the widespread practice of going on pilgrimage to the tomb of Peter in Rome. Particularly in the difficult periods of the Church's history, it constituted a privileged time of concord and an occasion of abundant grace offered to the People of God. In the present circumstances the coming Holy Year takes on a special significance in that it coincides with the tenth anniversary of the closing of the Second Vatican Council, which was meant as a solemn appeal of the Church to all her members to undertake for the salvation of the world a profound renewal of spirit, structures, and pastoral organization. This indeed was the message of the constitution Lumen gentium which recalled that Christ has made us sharers in His Spirit in order that we may continually be renewed in Him. It reminded us also that although the Church is, through her divine calling, holy and without spot, she is in her members defectible and "continually in need of conversion and renewal" (no. 8). For this reason she misses no_opportunity of calling to penance, in order that she may remain the "worthy spouse of her Lord" with the aid of the Holy Spirit "so that through the cross she may attain the light that knows no setting" (no. 9). Necessily of Penance The Church is aware that a return to God is indispensable in order to also attain the reestablishment of Christian unity and in order to give peace to all men who are striving for tranquillity in the midst of disquieting events. She therefore invites everyone, non-Catholics included, to have re-course to the sources of salvation; and "she does not cease to pray, hope, and work, while exhorting her children to purify and renew themselves in order that the image of Christ may shine forth more clearly in her counten-ance" (no. 15). She likewise asks mankind to turn "with renewed spirit to true peace" (Gaudium et spes, no. 77) since the "reform of hearts" remains the principal path for the attainment of this reform. The Second Vatican Council has inculcated the necessity of penance so that man, by freeing himself from evil, may cling wholeheartedly to Christ, "the model, master, liberator, savior, and lifegiver" (Ad gentes, no. 8). The apostolic constitution Poenitemini of Pope Paul VI has expla.')ned the meaning and the truly Christian value of penance in the affirma,'~ion that only through "the profound affd total transformation of the whol~ man, in all his feelings, judgments and acts" is it possible t'o reach the kingdom pro-claimed by Christ (Poenitemini, no. 5). By virtue of these salutary messages and in order to ascertain in what measure they have borne fruit, the coming Holy Year will have as its funda-mental purpose the Christian's commitment to an act of profound conver-sion, metanoia, that brings him closer to God and affects the ecclesial com-munity and temporal communities as well. It will be a great penitential act 734 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 involving the whole People of God and leading it, through meditation, prayer, and the celebration of the Eucharist to a deeper and hoped for personal and community reform. This testing of the genuineness of one's personal life of faith, the fruit of a total interior change in the voluntary exercise of acts of penance "over and above the renunciations imposed by daily life" (Poenitemini, no. 12), will lead to reconciliation at all levels. This is meant to be the central and operative theme of the entire Holy Year. Levels of Reconciliation Evangelical conversion and every penitential practice that accompanies it lead essentially to reconciliation with God in Jesus Christ and to recon-ciliation with one's brethren. They lead to reconciliation within the Catholic Church herself and in her relationships with the other Churches, to recon-ciliation in society among all men, over and above every difference of class, race, nation, and degree of economic, social, and cultural development. They lead to reconciliation as the path to that unity which is realized in Christ, the restorer of all things on earth, the unifier of heartg through the sacrifice of His Blood, the unfailing fount of life and salvation (see Eph 2:11-4). The Holy Year will offer to all men the opportunity for genuine reflec-tion upon the basic values of life directed towards a new seeking for Christ. The Holy Year will be concerned more with the interior life of the spirit than with external manifestations; it will be directed towards the world that the Church wishes to serve, that the world may believe: ut mundus credat: It will call for and promote works of piety, penance, and charity as signs of renewal in faith and as the condition for gaining the indulgences granted in the name of and as the gift of the infinite and almighty saving mercy of the Lord. With this a{m in yiew, the coming Holy Year will be conducted in such a way as to offer the greatest possible number of people the chance to share fruitfully in the Jubilee. Therefore, unlike previous Holy Years, which were celebrated in Rome and then extended to the other communities and dioceses, it will be first proclaimed for all the local churches in harmony with the spirit of the Second Vatican Council'and finally to avoid the situa-tion in which it would become a privilege of the category of people who have the means to go to Rome. Pilgrimages to Rome As the culmination of the whole process of reflection and as the fruit of the work of renewal carried out in the local churches, pilgrimages to Rome will be held in 1975. This will constitute the final point and conver-gence of the penitential activity. The influx of the faithful to the Eternal City should be representative of the local churches from which the various groups come; these latter will Documents on the 1975 Holy Year / 735 be aware of the spiritual burden which they fraternally undertake. They will have contact with the most significant traces of the ancient Church; and they will meet the Church of Rome and above all its bishop, the pope, to whom they will give the witness of their faith in his evangelical mission and in his primacy. In the pope they will see the one who by confessing the divinity of Christ, the indispensable foundation of the Christian faith, has become, by Christ's mandate, the living cornerstone of the entire divine economy, the rock of the Church. Of this, St. Leo the Great gives the follow-ing illustration: "In the whole Church Peter daily says: 'You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God' and every tongue which confesses the Lord is filled with the teaching of this voice" (Serrno 3; PL, 54, 146c). In the pope they will find the bond of unity of all the local churches, the safeguard of the plurality of their pastoral and cultural experiences, and the animator of the universal charity of the Church which today more than ever before is concerned with the evangelization and integral development of peoples in the spirit of charity because "only love is worthy of trust." The Holy ~Year and the Local Churches In order that the Holy Year may have the hoped for results, it will be appropriate, as soon as the Holy Father makes the announcement on May 9, for the local churches to give thought to the immediate initiation of ac-tivities directed toward this movement of conversion and renewal on a parochial, diocesan, and national basis. Each church must seriously employ its resources at all levels to stir up in the faithful a serious and authentic penitential act. The episcopal conferences shall seek ways most suited to the mentality of their peoples of ensuring that they understand the ecclesial importance of the event and realize what interior and exterior results are expected from it. The objectives of the work to be done would seem to be especially the following: 1. To explain the purpose of the Holy Year proclaimed by the Holy Father and the documents which will be issued on this theme. 2. To prepare the faithful sp.iritually with extensive preaching in all its forms of the Word of God for personal and communal penitential acts which will be promoted to bring about reconciliation in Christ. 3. Toorganize appropriate liturgical celebrations in accordance with the Second Vatican Council for promoting the sense of prayer in the com-munion and participation of the graces of the Holy Year. 4. To select the churches where the Jubilee indulgences can be gained, inserting the indulgences into an integral process of interior renewal and hence of sanctification. The cathedral is to be preferred since it is the meet-ing point of various liturgical and pastoral movements so that it may be clearly seen that the entire ecclesial movement has as its center the bishop 736 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 who is coresponsible with the pope for the spirtual renewal of the whole People of God. 5. To point out the connection--in the ways that the episcopal con-ferences deem most suitable and effective--between the movement of spiritual renewal, which will culminate in the Holy Year in Rome, and the reflection of the ecclesial community on the theme of the next general as-sembly of the Synod of Bishops (1974): "Th~ Evangelization of the Modern World." 6. As far as possible to secure the participation of the separated brethren in the initiatives undertaken for the celebration of the Holy Year in order to have cooperation in the areas of piety, charity, and penance. It is in these spheres that there is more easily found, through the conversion of hearts, unity in Christ, and thus reconciliation in the Church comes to maturity (see the decree Unitatis redintegratio, no. 7). Similar attention shall be given to those belonging to non-Christian religions. 7. Care shall likewise be taken to give to the celebration of the Holy Year a radiating expansion reaching the widest sectors of humanity, includ-ing those Who do not believe, by involving them at least in those initiatives that have as their common purpose reconciliation and peace. 8. The pilgrimages to Rome in 1975 shall be carefully prepared. Central Committee for the Holy Year These initial directives will be followed by others. A Central Committee for the Holy Year will be set up which will maintain close contact through the episcopal conferences with the local churches in order to inform them of the various initiatives which will be promoted in the doctrinal and liturgi-cal fields and in order to provide possible clarifications. THE VATICAN PRESS CONFERENCE OF MAY 9 Remarks of Monsignor Enrico Bartoletti At the general audience today the Holy Father announced the proclamation of a Jubilee Year which will have its culmination in Rome in 1975. The peculiar characteristics of this Jubilee Year which the Holy Father outlined do not sweep the Holy Year off the course of its centuries-old tradition but wisely gear it to the modern socio-cultural context and set it better in the framework of the ecclesiology of Vatican II. Tl~e first and most conspicuous variation that characterizes this Holy Year is that it will take place first in all the particular churches or dioceses scattered all over the world and then conve~:ge and culminate afterwards at Peter's See in the Church that is the mother of all the churches. The difference from the past may seem only an exterior one. Previously, the Jubilee was celebrated in Rome for the whole of the Holy Year, and only there could the Jubilee indulgence be obtained. Only at the close of Documents on the 1975 Holy Year / 737 the Holy Year were the spiritual favors extended to the whole world, thus reaching those who had not been able to enjoy them. Now, on the contrary, the Jubilee year is to be celebrated first all over the world, later reaching its conclusive climax and the fullness of its signifi-cance at the tomb of the Apostles Peter and Paul. The difference, therefore, is not just an exterior one, on the purely chronological and organizational level. It deeply modifies the meaning of the Holy Year and highlights its value as a spiritual and ecclesial move-ment intended to involve the whole of the Lord's Holy Church or, as people prefer to say today, the whole People of God on its pilgrimage in the world. The particular churches and all the ecclesial communities of believers and of the baptized are thus highlighted and urged to renewal, while unity of faith and fellowship is reaffirmed and solicited in the convergence upon Peter's See which is their permanent source and foundation (see Lumen gentium, no. 18). Conversion and Reconciliation In this way the Holy Year takes on the configuration of an intense and universal Church movement, not triumphalistic but pastoral and spiritual, personal and communitarian, aimed at realizing and checking that process of continual and permanent "conversion" which is the fundamental message of the gospel and which was admirably echoed by Lumen gentium and the whole of Vatican II. The goal and purpose of this ecclesial movement is indicated in the very theme of the Jubilee Year: Reconciliation; The itinerary to reach it, which the whole Church is invited to follow, is that of "metanoia," that is, repentance or change of mentality, effort of purification, commitment of charity. It is, in fact, along this path of repentance that man, in Christ, by virtue of the Holy Spirit, is reconciled with God and becomes capable of reconcilia-tion with his brothers. It is this brotherly reconciliation, ecclesial and human and therefore also civil, which becomes at once the fruit and the verification of reconciliation with God, while it is in many cases the premises and beginning of it. And it is in this sense that the Holy Year takes on a value and a dimen-sion that is not only intraecclesial but also ecumenical and universal. Thus the connection of the Holy Year with Vatican Council II becomes not only chronological and exterior but also deep and consequential. On the tenth anniversary of the closing of the Second Vatican Council, the theme of the Jubilee Year and the itinerary of repentance that must characterize it will be nothing but a renewed ecclesiological reflection and a renewed commitment to carry out what the Spirit told the Church of our times at the great Pentecost of the Council. From Lumen gentium to Gaudium et spes, from Pacem in terris and 738 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 Poenitemini to Octogesima adveniens and the Synodal documents of 1971, the pressing appeal to the Church has constantly been that of conversion and reconciliation. The celebration of the Holy Year, ten years after the Council, will be a verification and a common examination of conscience of the whole Church with regard to the fruitfulness of those salutary messages and the faithful-ness of our response to the voice of the Spirit. The Holy Year and Evangelization There is a clear connection also between the celebration of the Holy Year, especially in the particular churches, and the subject of the next Synod ---evangelization in the modern world--which will also have to stimulate the reflection, the effort and the commitment of the whole People of God. Monsignor Rubin, the Secretary General of the Synod, will explain in detail the convergences of content and commitment. Let it be enough to point out here that the whole spiritual movement of the Holy Year will be a process of evangelization inside and outside the Church, in the awareness that she exercises her evangelizing mission not only through what she says but also through what she is. Holy Year in the Local Churches and in Rome Witness, especially in the secularized world, is an integral part of evangelization. The first phase of the celebration of the Jubilee Year will take place, therefore, in all the particular churches. The solemn announce-ment will be made by the pastors in those churches on Pentecost Day (June 10) and the spiritual and organizational movement will be started. The center of convergence of the various catechetical, liturgical, and pastoral initiatives will preferably be the cathedral. There it will be possible to obtain the Jubilee indulgence; there the ecclesial movement will find in the bishop its visible center and foundation of unity and fellowship with the universal Church. The climax of the whole pro.cess of renewal, the sign and seal of recon-ciliation in the unity of faith and in the charity of fellowship, will be the pilgrimage to Rome which will take place from December 1974 throughout 1975. The crowds of the faithful who will flock to Peter's See will have to be representative of the particular churches. Therefore, more than pil-grimages of individuals or groups, it will be diocesan and regional pil-grimages or the pilgrimages of whole episcopal conferences with their pas-tors that will be of importance. The need for representativeness and the necessary sign of ecclesial and brotherly charity will prompt initiatives of mutual help so that the less well-to- do, the sick, and the young will be present in large numbers in the pil-grimages to the Church of Rome which in her bishop "presides over charity." It will also be necessary for the pilgrimage to °Rome to be distinguished from Documents on the 1975 Holy Year / 739 the tourist trip. Regaining its old meaning as a Christian pilgrimage, it should be a real spiritual itinerary to find again in Peter's successor "the one who everyday proclaims in the Church faith in Christ, the Son of the Living God." In this way the particular churches will find once more in the pope the bond of their unity, the guarantor of their itinerary of faith, the animator of their charity. Remarks of Monsignor Wladislaw Rubin The "essential features of the central theme of the Holy Year" stress the existence of a connection between the movement of spiritual revision dictated by the Holy Year and the reflection of the ecclesial community on the subject of the next General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops (in 1974): "The Evangelization of the Contemporary World." The Holy Year and Evangelization It is useful to indicate the reasons for this connection: 1. The first link to emphasize is the one with the growing participation of the episcopate in joint responsibility toward the universal Church and her task in the world. The Synod of Bishops is a particularly evident expression of this collaboration since it is the central ecclesiastic organism in which ¯ the world episcopate expresses its concern to cooperate with the sovereign pontiff for the solution of the most serious problems 'that emerge and challenge the ecclesial community, It is, therefore, the place of confluence and convergence of the local churches which live in an attitude of listening comparison, adherence, and availability for the influences of the Holy Spirit and the service of the good of the universal Church. ,The approach to the Holy Year--different from the traditional and cen-turies- old approach of preceding celebrations--which consists in initiating the celebration with the local churches and giving the world episcopate more direct participation in the celebrations in Rome corresponds to the line of renewal that the institution of the Synod of Bishops represents in the Church. 2. Then there exists a deeper link between the idea of the Holy Year-- which is repentance--and that subject chosen for the next Synod, that is "The Evangelization of the Contemporary World." It can be said that the reflection of the ecclesial community on the subject of the Synod is, from this point ofview, preparation for a correct celebration of the Holy Year. The Synod of Bishops, proposing the subject of evangelization in all its radical instances, will urge believers to an inner conversion which is indis-pensable to be able to prove one's readiness to follow Christ and to com-mune with Him. We all know the Gospel text which directly connects the proclamation of the gospel with the appeal for repentance: "Repent, and believe the gospel!" (Mk 1:15). Repentance. therefore is necessary for conversion and 740 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 adherence to Christ, as the Second Vatican Council says. Repentance is the first stage of evangelization, of conversion of the heart, and of the renewal of the individual and of mankind for which all men of good will long. 3. The celebration of the Holy Year--as we read in the "essential fea-tures"-- offers all men the possibility of genuine reflection on the funda-mental values of life, open to a new search for Christ; it is addressed to the world that the Church wishes to serve in order that it may believe: ut mundus credat. Renewal of Faith The Holy Year, therefore, wishes to be a "renewal of faith." Never, perhaps, in the history of the celebrations of the Holy Year has the ecclesial community felt this need so strongly as now. In modern society, space for God's word is constantly and progressively reduced and it does not reach its efficacy; it is listened to little, understood and lived little. It is necessary, therefore, to revise method and contents thoroughly and to multiply efforts in order that God's word may have its place and its role of primacy in the chorus of men's messages. The subject of the next Synod, "The Evangelization of the Contem-porary World," commits the whole ecclesial community to careful and deep reflection on the message of Christ, liberator and savior, to be communi-cated with every effort and every means to the men of our times. It is to be hoped that the effort of the Synod of Bishops will be sup-ported by a deep awareness of the whole People of God, accompanied and followed by a multiplicity of initiatives capable of bringing to maturity reflections and exigencies in vital terms of faith. 4. The specific subject proposed by the Holy Father for the 1975 Holy Year, that is, reconciliation, meets one of the main concerns of the episco-pate expressed in the preceding Synods which aimed at ensuring constant progress for the Church and for mankind in an atmosphere of peace and love in conformity with the teaching of the gospel. The world episcopate is the qualified witness of all the peoples it repre-sents who suffer from the conflicts and lacerations that exist on the political, social, and religious planes. The Synod, which will have to study how to bring the gospel of love and peace to the world of today, will aim at reaching, through evangelical con-version, this reconcilation with God and with our human brothers. Address to. Religious Women Paul VI On May 12, 1973, Pope Paul VI gave an audience to the women religious partici-pating in the General Assembly of the Union of Major Superiors in Italy. On the occasion the Holy Father delivered the following talk printed here in the translation given in the English language Osservatore romat~o, May 24, 1973, page 3. It is a happy and refreshing parenthesis for us today, willingly agreeing to your request, to receive you, the major superiors of Italy, who have taken part in the General Assembly of the Council of Presidency and of the Cen-tral Council of the Union. We greet the newly elected superiors, and those who have ended their term of office; and we welcome all of you, as well as your fellow sisters whom you represent. Be Confident We are glad to pause, if only for a short time, among you because you bring before our eyes the image of the ranks of Italian religious women who, on all fronts--teaching, support for the priestly ministry, missionary cooperation, physical and spiritual works of mercy, and so forth--offer the Church irreplaceable assistance and the community of brothers a continual lesson of kindness, disinterestedness, and self-sacrifice. We thank you for this "evangelical witness'~ given as it is with total fervor; and we address you a word of consolation: Be confiden!! At this moment when many things are questioned, though in the praiseworthy in-tention of rediscovering and following your own "identity" in conformity with the gospel and with the origin of each religious institute, there is need of a higher certainty to guide and illuminate this effort of absolute au-thenticity. 741 742 / Review for Religious, l/olume 32, 1973/4 Confidence in the Religious Vocation Yes, be confid~nt! 1. Be confident in the choice of the religious vocation which you made in full freedom and in serene response to God's grace by g!ving the highest and deepest significance to Christian life. What is religious life if not the carrying to their extreme consequences--death to sin and its roots, dedica-tion to God, union with the risen Christ--of the instructions of baptism? Is it not the bringing to complete maturation of the seeds received in that decisive sacramental meeting with the Trinity that loves us and saves us? This was the ancient teaching that the recent Council recalled when it said that in religious life every member of the faithful "in order to derive more abundant fruit from this baptismal grace intends by the profession of the evangelical counsels in the Church to free himself from those obstacles which might draw him away from the fervor 6f charity and the perfection of divine worship. Thus he is more intimately consecrated to divine service" (Lumen gentium, no. 44). You, therefore, with faithfulness to the gospel taken literally indicate that the realities that count, the ones that will remain beyond the contingent flux of time are the spiritual ones. Religious life is a sign and a presence of the eschatological reality of the kingdom of God. In this l!ght your lives as consecrated women take on full significance in their forms, in their essen-tial commitments represented by the three vows, in their strong, happy, sacrificed, loving, welcoming style, guided only by the thought of the love of God and of your brothers, particularly those most abandoned, as well as in spiritual growth fed at the crystal clear fountainheads of prayer and union with God, of silence and contemplation, and especially of the Eucharist and the liturgical life according to the points that we developed in the apostolic exhortation Evangelica testiJ~catio. We invite you to meditate on this docu-ment more and more because .it was dictated solely by the desire to facilitate that renewal of religious life which was among the most conspicuous fruits of the Second Vatican Council. Confidence in the Church 2. Then be confident in "Mother Church" who has given you her full confidence in the first place. You have a particular relationship of love for the Church, as you have for Mary. The .mystery of Mary and that of the Church are closely linked and illuminate each other: "The Church . . . be-comes herself a mother . For by her preaching and by baptism she brings forth~ to a new and im. mortal life children who are conceived of the Holy Spirit and born of God. The Church herself is a virgin who keeps whole and pure the fidelity which she has pledged to her Spouse. Imitating the Mother of her Lord and by the power of the Holy Spirit, she preserves with virginal purity an integral faith, a firm and sincere charity" (Lumen gentium, no. 64). Address to Religious Women You are closely linked to these realities which, mysteriously, must be reproduced and continued in your consecrated lives. Hence you must al-ways feel moved to a particular love for the Church. The fervor of ecclesiological studies, in the light of the teaching of the Council, and, above Jail, personal reflection in the life of prayer must stimulate in all sisters a new esteem, a new reliance, a new confidence in the Church. All in-stitutes, becoming more and more open and available, should be animated to seek new services so that the Church may reach everywhere in the world, bringing it the sacrament of love with which God meets mankind in Christ and save it in every age and in all latitudes. Confidence in Our Times 3. And finally be confident also in our times, so full of aspirations and tensions, greatness and wretchedness, needs and hopes. The conciliar con-stitution Gaudium et spes highlighted them in a precise synthesis which must be kept in mind by all those in the .Church who wish to serve the needs" of the world. Your vocation puts you in a special relationship with the world which has, as you know, so many sufferings and sores but which also possesses so many secret richeswin the advance of new generations, in the faithful-ness of families, in the sacrifices of workers, in the sorrows of the sick and the old. Before them you must be "sign posts." .And in this you have a great responsibility. People watch you and judge if your faithfulness to the gospel is genuine and sincere. For them you must be in the world the sign that the gospel is alive, that the kingdom of God is amongst us (see Lk 17:21). Moved by this concern, we called you to this commitment of witnessing in our recent exhortation when we wrote that "this world needs, today more than ever, to see in you men and women who have believed in the Word of the Lord, in His Resurrection and eternal life, to the extent of committing your earthly life to bear witness to the reality of this love which is offered to all men . Is not this gra.ce, for the man of today, a kind of life-bringing breath from the infinite, a kind of liberation from himself, in the prospect of eternal, absolute joy?" (Evangelica testificatio, no. 53). The Coming Flame of Light and Grace In this triple invitation to confidence, then, we wish the Union a renewed effort in order that these instructions may be lived with growing awareness by all Italian sisters. This is demanded by the state of consecrated life; it is required by the duty of the hour when a great flame of light and grace is about to pass over the local churches in preparation for the Holy Year. Be in the front line in the work of reconciliation and inner renewal as well as of revision of your own social life in the kind of reaction which we expect from all the faithful of good will. The forthcoming Pentecost will be the beginning of a new effusion of the Spirit upon the whole Church: Get ready 744 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 for it and help in a special way the various categories of persons you serve to understand this hour of grace and to give it their support. We thank you; and in token of the special protection of the Holy Virgin, an incomparable model of complete dedication, we willingly impart the special Apostolic Blessing to you and to your fellow sisters in your institutes. Prayer and Life Edward Carter, S.J. Father Edward Carter, S.J., is associate professor of theology at Xavier University; Cincinnati, Ohio 45207. There is an intimate connection between prayer and life. It can be no other way. Prayer, a function of the Christian life of grace, has an undeniable con-nection with the human condition because the Christian life itself does. The Christian is not one-half natural and the other half supernatural. Although grace and nature are distinct, they do not exist separate from one another as if grace is placed atop nature like a kind of,superstructure. Karl Rahner observes: "The nature of a spiritual being and its supernatural elevation are not opposed to each other like two things which lie side by side, so that they must be either kept separate or confused. The supernatural elevation of man is, though not due to him, the absolute fulfillment of his being . Grace and the Authentically Human The Christian is one graced person. The Christian life does not in any way destroy or lessen anything which isjauthentically human. Rather the Christian life gives human nature a deepened capacity for fulfillment. In our elevation through grace, we possess a deepened capacity for love, for joy, for suffering, for peace, for happiness. Whatever we do, as long as it is authentically human, is also meant to be Christian. St. Paul reminds us: "The fact is that whether you eat or drink--whatever you do~-you should do all for the glory of God" (1 Cot 10:31). The Christian life, then, is divinized human life. It is man and wife deeply and tenderly loving one another. It is friend sharing with friend. The Christian life is a nurse caring for the sick, a mother rearing her children, 1Karl Rahner, Theological Investigations, Volume 4 (Baltimore: Helicon, 1966), p. 183. 745 746 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 a businessman serving his customers, a teacher communicating with his students. Life in Christ is sharing a meal with loved ones, enjoying a movie, taking a refreshing swim, quietly watching the falling white snow gently covering the hillside, or being buoyed up by the greenness of spring. The Christian life is the thrill of being loved, the ioy of success, the satisfaction of completing an important task. It is a concern for one's neighbor, an at-tention to his needs. The Christian life is experiencing failure, being mis-understood, feeling unloved, experiencing the slight pains of life, but also occasionally the deep suffering which makes one weep. No, there is nothing really human which is alien to our graced existence in Jesus. Jesus Himself has gone before us indicating the connection between the human condition and the life He came to give. Jesus redeemed us, not by fleeing the human condition, but by relating to it properly according to His Father's will. Jesus loved life, and He beautifully used human existence to give us the possibility of becoming more perfectly human. As Jesus achieved objective redemption within the framework of the human condition and His own human existence, so also must we assist Him in the ongoing work of subjective redemption. We receive the life Jesus came to give us within the human condition and the confines of our own humanity or we do not re-ceive it at all. This is also the way we help give this Christic life to others. Prayer and Human Life Prayer, since it is a very important exercise of this Christian life we have been describing, has an obvious relationship with the human condition. Prayer is deeply interrelated with life. From experienci.ng life I am led to seek prayer, and frbm experiencing prayer I am led to seek life. Thomas Merton, because he was a Trappist monk, was not directly involved with certain aspects of the temporal order. But in the manner his Trappist voca-tion permitted, he was deeply immersed in life. He was deeply interested in his fellow human beings. He was deeply concerned with the agonizing prob-lems of modern man. Precisely because he was a man of profound prayer, he understood contemporary man and the human condition go well, and his writings are a legacy of wisdom helping modern, man to achieve successful and happy living. In one of his books he i'eminds fis of the connecti6n which must exist between prayer and life: A false supernaturalism which imagines that "the supernatural" is a kind of Platonic realm o~ abstract essences totally apart from and opposed to the concrete world of nature, offers no real support to a genuine lif~ of meditation and prayer. Mediation has no point and no reality unless it is firmly rooted in liJe.,,Without such roots, it can produce nothing but the ashen fruits of disgust, acedia, and even morbid and degenerate introversion, masochism, dolorism, negation. Nietzsche pitilessly exposed the hopeless mess which results from this caricature of Christianity.''z 2Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (Garden City: Image, 1971), p. 39. Prayer and Li[e / 747 Prayer is intimately bound up with life in that it helps us to find our-selves and our role in life. Prayer shows us how to live. Prayer helps us achieve self-identity, and in achieving self-identity we see what our relation-ship to God and our fellowmen should be. One of the gravest issues facing contemporary man is the problem of alienation. Modern man feels alienated from himself, from God, from the society of men. Prayer helps cut across these inroads which alienation has made. As prayer develops self-awareness, it develops and deepens one's love relationship with God and the society of men. Prayer and the Quest for Self-identity We have said prayer aids in the quest for self-identity. The contempo-rary man of i~ndustrial-technological society to a large extent finds himself in a very ironical position. With his fantastically advanced knowledge, he has increasingly controlled and shaped his material world. He has achieved knowledge to a highly precise degree of what we might call the identity of the material world. But modern man's own self-identity more and more elud6s him. In directing so much of his quest for knowledge at the material world outside himself, he increasingly has become a stranger to his own self. He has failed to look within. He has failed to know himself. Some, in a desperate attempt, as it were, to make quick amends for modern man's failure to know himself, have taken the misleading route of psychedelic, drugs in the quest for self-identity, inner unity, and integration. But this is an abortive attempt, because it violates the laws of gaining true self-knowledge and integration. In prayer, self-awareness is not achieved in an isolated, self-enclosed fashion. Self-identity is achieved through encounter with God. The psy-chologist Sidney Jourard tells us: "And it seems to be another fact that no one can come to know himself except as an outcome of disclosing himself to another person.'''~ If I need an encounter with a human person in order to grow in self-knowledge, much,~much more do I n~ed encounter with God in prayer to achieve self-identity and self-integration. God is the origin of my life. He is also the goal of my life. He knows and understands me per-fectly, so much more intimately than I know and understand myself. He has created me. He has created .me unique, and therefore, there is no one who can tell me more about my unique self than God. There never has been anyone like me in the pasl~. There is not now, and there never will be any-one like me. God has c~'eated me in His own image, and I reflect Him more perfectly the more I become myself, the more I develop my God-given uniqueness. The God-life, the grace-life, which is given in baptism, deepens ~Sidney M. Jourard, The Transparent Sel! (2nd ed.; New York: Van Nostrand Rein-hold, 1971), p. 6. 748 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 my uniqueness. The more Christian I become, the more unique I also be-come, and the more I become myself. I become more God-like, more Chris-tian, more myself in, with, and through Jesus. Jesus mediates God's gift of a share,in Trinitarian life, and He mediates our response, our living this life. There is no other way I can develop my graced uniqueness except in Jesus and according to the pattern of His life. Rahner states it very succinctly: "And yet every grace has analogously the same structure as its source, viz. the structure of the Word become man . In prayer God shows me all this. He shows me all this as He allows me to realize that He loves me. I begin to really be, really to achieve my true self-identity when I begin to realize how much God loves me. God helps me achieve my self-identity and self-integration by showing me what I uniquely am, what I am called to be. He shows me through the light of prayer that my existence and quest for self-identity must be rooted in a love-relationship with Him. He tells me that the more I open myself to His loving Self-communication and the more I respond with a love of my own, the more I become myself, the more my self-image becomes finely honed, the more I become what He wants me to be. Prayer and My Evil Dimension Achieving self-identlty through encounter with God in prayer is not a completely painless task. The light of prayer shows me my uniqueness, my particular talents and gifts, the good I have already achieved, and the future possibilities for further growth in Christian holiness. But God, through the light of prayer, also shows me my evil side. He shows me how I have failed Him, how I have wasted opportunities to love Him and others, how much my search for self-integration and union with Him has been obstructed be-cause of my selfishness. How deeply the light of prayer can penetrate one's being and uncover the unpleasant side of nature is graphically attested to by some of the saints. As they grew in prayer, the ligtit of prayer illumined pockets of selfishness and pride that had previously escaped their awareness. The light of prayer, then, helps one achieve self-identity and self-integration by illuminating both the good and evil dimensions of one's existence. Finally, this illuminating encounter with God in prayer always has a thrust of bring-ing me into closer union with Him. The light of prayer shows me my unique self, shows me more what I should become, shows me that I am made for God, shows me how lovable this God is--and all this is intended to deepen my love relationship with God. In turn, as I come closer to Him, I become more myself. I achieve a greater existential hold on my true self-identity. 4Karl Rahner, Theological Investigations, Volume 2 (Baltimore: Helicon, 1960), p. 33. Prayer and Lite/ 749 Some say that this encounter with God in prayer is a risk. They say that if we really pray we do not know what might be asked of us. If prayer is a risk, it is a risk for happiness. God gradually, and tenderly, and lovingly, shows me myself and shows me Himself so that I may be increasingly ful-filled. Of course, as God shows me myself and Himself in prayer, as He shows me how to become more myself as directed by His loving will, all this will involve a certain suffering. A price is asked of me if I am to grow. There is no other way. But what God asks of me in prayer is always aimed at my greater fulfillment and happiness. Again, if prayer is a risk, it is a risk for happiness. In one of his earlier writings, Thomas Merton observed: "It is becoming increasingly evident that the only men in the world who are really happy are the ones who knowhow to pray.''~ Prayer and Immersion in Life As God shows me myself .and Himself in prayer, and shows me how my quest for self-identity is rooted in a loving relationship with Him, He shows me how the process of self-integration is connected with life. He shows me how it has a relationship with daily living in all its myriad and diverse di-mensions. He shows me that I must become more my unique self--lay greater existential hold on my self-identity--through authentic immersion in life. This immersion in life can differ so widely--from that of the inner city worker to that of the Trappist contemplative--but immersion in life there must be. Prayer, then, thrusts me into life. Authentic prayer gives me a taste for life, a desire to be and to become by situating myself properly, and ac-cording to my uniqueness, in the world of men. Conversely, my immersion in life thrusts me back to prayerful encounter with God. The more honest I am with myself, the more clearly I see that if I am properly to be and to become through my encounter with life, I need the light and strength of prayer. There is this cycle of prayer and life, then. From experiencing prayer I am led to seek life, and from experiencing life, I am led to seek prayer. Much of my imme~:sibn in life concerns itself with my relationship with human persons, both in a general manner and in a more particular way re-garding those relatively few individuals with whom I am especially close. Not unexpectedly, then, prayer shows me how my being and my becoming are inextricably bound up with loving relationships with my neighbors. God inexorably shows me through the light of prayer that my achieving self-identity through a love relationship with Him is inescapedly connected with my love relationship with my fellowmen. The light of prayer gradually, gently, but so persistently, increasingly engrains upon my being those well-known words of St. John: ~Thomas Merton, "The Contemplative Life: Its Meaning and Necessity," Dublin Review, v. 223 (1949), p. 32. 750 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 If anyone says, "My love is fixed on God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. One who has no love for the brother he has seen cannot love the God he has not seen. (1Jn 4:20) Prayer and lhe Love of Neighbor Prayer sustains me in the gift of myself to my fellow human beings. The light of prayer allows me to see the priceless dignity of each individual. Prayer shows me how each person is truly made in the image and likeness of God, how each has been touched by the redemptive blood of Jesus. Prayer not on!y shows me this; it also gives me the strength to live accord-ingly. Prayer sustains me especially when it is so difficult to live according to this faith vision--when others do not love and appreciate me, when some even hate and ridicule me. Prayer enlightens me and strengthens me in the daily struggle to be generous in my service of others at those times when self-interest and self-comfort pull me the other way. And as indicated earlier, prayer shows me that if I am to love others properly, I must love them as they are actually situated in this real world of ours, a world with so much beauty, but also with a great deal of ugliness; a world with so many great accomplishments and future possibilities, but also a world with a staggering number of the gravest problems. Prayer also shows me that if I truly love my neighbor, I have to be concerned with all this according to my vocation, my talents, and my opportunities. Prayer and Close Relationships ~ In God's providence, the love of neigl~bor leads one to relatively few close relationships. To cite certain examples, husband and wife, parents and children, friend and friend, are engaged in a particular kind of intimacy that is absent from their general encounters with others. This closeness can be the occasion of simple joys and the greatest happiness, but it can also give rise to frustration, anger, disappointment, and even deep anguish oc-casionally. Prayer is a great source of light and strength relative to these close relationships. It sustains a person in working at the proper development of these encounters--to enjoy them as one should, to profit from them ag one ought. Prayer sustains a person when he or she is tempted immaturely to flee the suffering involved in these relationships. Prayer keeps one there, enables one to endure the pain, enables one to see the value of these rela-tionships for Christ and the world. Pray6r shows the person that the pain properly endured and assimilated will lead to a greater love. Prayer and Life / 751 Conclusion The Christian, then, seeks the solitude of prayer not in order to flee the presence of others. Among the reasons he seeks out the quiet of prayer is that he may better find people. He seeks prayer so that he may be for them more, become for them more, suffer for them more, do good for them more. He seeks prayer so that he may simply love them more. Prayer and life, life and prayer--these are inseparably interwoven. As I pray, and grow in prayer, I see this connection with deeper penetration and conviction. Prayer shows me that it can be no other way. Prayer leads me to seek life, and life leads me to seek prayer. The Five Steps of Prayer Manuel J. Costa Father Manuel J. Costa is the pastor of St. Bernard's Church; Post Office Box 999; Eureka, Calil~ornia 95501. Many people in the post Vatican II Church are feeling estranged from God. They do not experience the same secure closeness to Him that they had in former days. A number of times just this past year I have had parishioners complain to me in words like these: "I reach out for God, but He doesn't seem to be there anymore. I want to be in better touch with Him, but I don't know how." Doubtlessly, we have all been distressed, perhaps more often than we care to admit, by a sense of God's absence from our lives. But the way to feel His presence is not so much to "reach out" for Him as to reach in. We must learn to take the inner journey of prayer to find the living God who dwells within us. We can be so concerned about trying to find Him that we miss Him where He is--right under our noses: "The kingdom of God is within you" (Lk 17:21). A religious philosopher little known in Catholic circles, Henry N. Wieman, has written a brief but illuminating analysis of prayer, which is quoted in the anthology, The Choice Is Always Ours, edited by Phillips, Howes, and Nixon (Harper and Row, 1948). Wieman sees prayer as hav-ing five steps and speaks of it as a means of "reshaping ourselves in such manner that we as personalities with all our behavior can serve as connect-ing links between disconnected parts and thus enable the integrating process of the world to fulfill itself" (p. 206). In prayer, he says, we become "circuit-closers" and find the way to join ourselves with God in His work of wider and richer integration. 752 The Five Steps of Prayer / 753 Waiting for God The first step in prayer, according to Wieman, is "to relax and to be-come aware of that upon which we are dependent, that which sustains us in every breath." As I begin prayer, then, I should not strive to ttiink about anything in particular, but should rather enter into an attitude of waiting for God, of letting Him fill me with a consciousness of His all-encompassing, sustaining, integrating Being. So this first step can be described as tuning into the Presence; being open to the Other; acknowledging that which is beyond myself; letting go of my many preoccupations in order to focus on Him who is the Source and Ground of Being; clearing the circuits on my interior switchboard, moving, Advent-like, into the darkness and waiting for the Light; becoming aware of the integrative process, both within me and outside me, that God has already started. God as Working for the Good Wieman's second step in prayer is "to call to mind the vast and un-imaginable possibilities for good which are inherent in this integrating process called God." Before I can actualize these possibilities for good in my life, I must first renew my faith that they exist, that God is truly mov-ing both the world and myself forward--slowly, painfully, but surely. In this moment of prayer, I try to become intensely aware that God is working in ways that I do not understand and, in fact, cannot even imagine. I affirm the reality of unimaginable possibilities for growth and wholeness. Just what these possibilities may be remains unknown to me; all that is re-quired now is that I acknowledge them. This kind of openness to what the day wants to be in me will demand a radical willingness to change what needs to be changed, to stretch, to choose, to struggle, to let go of my egocentric patterns in favor of larger values. During this second step in prayer, I make a positive decision to opt for whatever will be growth-producing this day without seeking to determine now just what that will be. I resolve to choose as consistently as I can for life, to seize each opportunity to become more than I am, to help others to become more than they are, and to do all this now, since today with all its particular circumstances will never again exist for me. But if I am to be as open as I can to the unknown, "vast and un-imaginable possibilities for good," I must face whatever in me prevents the thrust forward. In other words, what are the Ways in which I am most pulled by a disintegrative process rather than the integrative process that Wieman speaks of? Might it be that I let myself get overinvolved in busy work and trivial things that make me stay on the surface of life rather than plumb into its depths? Am I always responding to outer events and demands in order to avoid confrontation with my own inner depths? Or perhaps I permit my-self to be sucked into role expectations, doing what I think others want me 754 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 to do rather than what I see is really best for me. Maybe for me the dis-integrative pull takes the form of saying, "I can't do that" or "why put out the effort--it won't do any good anyway" or "I'm too tired" or "I'll do it tomorrow when I have more time." Or is it that I am unwilling to sacrifice pleasure,and comfort for truth and growth? Do I crowd my days so much with people and things and work that I fail to leave breathing spaces for reflective evaluation and prayer? Do, I, fall into the trap of making up my mind beforehand that someone or some event is superficial or unimportant and thereby miss the meaning that they could proffer? Am I just plain lazy about cultivating an interior life, about trying to conceptualize and give expression to what I think and feel? It is extremely important that I seek to understand as much as I can about the God I be-lieve in and the process by which He works in me and in my world. I have a better chance of joining in with the process if I know what it is: "Blessed is he who knows what he does." Facing My Problem Wieman's third step in prayer is "to face the chief problem with which we are struggling., in its entirety and get it in its true perspective." If I do not take time to pray and to bring my problem before the Lord, then I will very likely be distracted by some pressing detail of the difficulty rather than face it in all its fullness. I will get taken in by what only looks like the main problem. This third step helps me to relate my problem to the total situation of my life, to look at it objectively, to assess all the data about it that I possi-bly can. For every problem has a body of facts to it that I must examine, sift, and integrate. I must creatively explbre the possibilities for good and for growth in my problem. I must be convinced that it really does have all kinds of positive possibilities and that I can join even my problem to the integrative process called God that is hard at work in me and in the entire universe. Prayer gives my problem a wider frame of reference. It stretches my perception so that I begin to see that what is bol~hering me contains some light and goodness in addition to darkness and evil. I can then begin to ac-cept that my problem has an aspect of mystery to it, that it is not so neatly packaged as I had previously thought. When I enter into this movement of prayer, I can. take a religious atti-tude toward whatever is troubling me. I will learn to regard it as an "inner brother" to whom I must first go and be reconciled before I offer my gift at the altar (see Mt 5:23-4). When I deal with my problem in this reconcilia-tory way, I rob it of its power to be infectious on the day and on its possi-bilities for good. The Five Steps o] Prayer / 755 Changing Myself Wieman presents the fourth step in prayer as "self-analysis to find what change must be made in our own mental attitudes and personal habits." Usually I expect the people around me, or my environment, or some aspect of my problem to change. Prayer enables me to see that I am the one who has to change. In prayer I come to see where the outer and inner problems lie.~Then I can decide where I ought to go. During this fourth step I can ask myself: "What are the facts of my life today? What am I to be present to?" Then I invoke God's help and strength so that I can adjust my attitudes and habits to meet the reality of the moment. Reality as it actually exists is the only arena in which I will meet the Lord. Prayer enables me to discern what my reality is, to discover what changes are required of me in order to live in that reality, and to work those changes in me. Prayer helps me to develop right attitudes. From these will flow right behavior. Verbal Formulations of Readjustments The fifth step in prayer is "to formulate in words as clearly and com-prehensively as possible the readjustment of personality and behavior which I have discovered is required of me if I am to close the circuit between cer-tain disconnected factors in the world around me." Wieman emphasizes that this verbal formulation should be affirmative, not negative, for in prayer "we are not primarily trying to break a connection but to establish a con-nection." When I can put my resolution into words, I concretize and channel my prayer experience. Otherwise, it may easily remain vague and undefined, with the result that I may lose much of the power that could come from my encounter with the Lord. Taking the time and trouble to put a feeling or an insight into words makes that feeling or insight more truly my own. It brings them to fuller and more explicit consciousness. Words do much more than label a reality; in a very true sense, they c~'eate the reality. The philospher Martin Heideg-ger says that man does not create language; rather language creates man. The effort required in expressing an inner experience in words makes that experience arise out of unconsciousness into consciousness. In this way, I am "created," that is, more integr~ated and more whole. Besides, it is good for me to make myself say things, even if only to my-self. For when I actually say them, there is, the terrible danger that I will really hear them and do something about them. So, for example, if during my period of prayer I discover that I am acting too much because of role expectations, or for "image" reasons, I may formulate my resolve in this way: "I will strive to act in accordance with the truth of a situation and in relationship to the Source of truth who is within me." Wieman suggests that we repeat our resolution often during the day. Such repetition wild gradually establish the needed readjustment of our at- 756 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 titude deeply and firmly in our beings. And in this way our conscious thoughts, feelings, and behavior will be more surely connected to God and his integrating process in the world. We will become thereby better instru-ments of wholeness both in ourselves and in our environment. Conclusion While certain similarities are obvious between Wieman's five steps and more traditional Catholic methods of meditation, like the Jesuit and Sulpi-cian forms, the originality and uniqueness of the five steps seems to lie in the effort to join ourselves with God in his work of integration. It is a form of prayer which has its unifying insight that each of us can serve as con-necting links between the disconnected parts within ourselves and in our world. We thereby consciously press ourselves into the service of our God who ever seeks to make all things one in Him. Intercession and Community Development Anthony ).° Kelly, C.Ss.R. Anthony J. Kelly, C.Ss.R., is the chairman of the Department of Theology at the Yarra Theological Union in Melbourne and lives at the Redemptorist Monastery; Majella Court; Kew, Victoria 3101; Australia. In recent times we have seen the emergence of many quite sophisticated techniques and exercises for the development of community. These have been applied with considerable effect to religious communities and other Christian groups. A greater intensity and variety of involvement in decision making, shared programs of learning, sensitivity and encounter groups have been commended. All this is the outcome of a genera[ effort to promote growth together, to promote acceptance of healthy diversity within the genuine community. Emotional and intellectual conflicts have been sifted out into more manageable proportions. Conflict itself, once located, identi-fied, and properly handled, has been appreciated as a positive factor in com-munity development. Then, and most of all, there is the almost over-developed theology of community which continues to inspire and challenge. In such an ongoing context of community endeavor, the following re-flections on intercessory prayer are offered. I will commend intercession as a basic form of belonging, creating and redeeming all our other relation-ships to those with whom we share the life of the community. Intercession and Our Relationships First, there is a general remark to be made. The value we put on the prayer of intercession depends on the way we see our relationships with others. For instance, do we grasp ourselves "from the beginni.ng" to be in-volved together, "chosen in him before the foundation of the world" (Eph 757 758 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 1:4)? A prior appreciation of our co-humanity in Christ disposes us to believe that we are governed by quite surprising laws of solidarity. How-ever, if there prevails another kind of understanding of the human world that would divide humanity off into self-enclosed monads where each one is goaded into building risky bridges to the rest of the world, the value of intercession cannot be expected to have much antecedent weight. It is too general and facile. Community suffers violence, and only the violent will achieve it. The correct theological emphasis would be in the direction of a great original solidarity. We are already together "in Christ," already irrevocably ¯ part of the one ultimate world. Such a unity has been offered as a gift, not attained as the outcome of an effort. To be realistically open to this more gracious view of reality would mean an attunement to intercession as a deeply obvious and elemental feature of our existence. We have received grace together; and the first grace is this being together in Christ. Aware-ness of our given co-humanity would mean that intercession follows as a natural ecstasy of our being whereby we make ourselves and others more receptive to the grace at work in our world. Intercession of Christ The above general remark invites us to enter the form of the prayer of Christ in whom we are called. St. John reveals Christ to us as the One who is related to us in the power of prayer, His priestly prayer for Unity: ". that they may all be one, even as thou Father art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be in us" (Jn 17:20). The unfailing answer to Christ's prayer is the emergence of the Church. The unity of the Spirit embraces our union with Christ as it does His with the Father. As the risen Christ "lives to make intercession for us" (Heb 7:25), the force of His whole new humanity is to be for man, that we might all grow in the unity 0f the Spirit. Our inter-cession derives from the intercessory existence of Christ Himself. It is enter-ing into His risen consciousness, participating in His colnmunicative ex-istence, we come to share in the power of His risen life by being for others in the way He is for them. With Him, the Christian who prays for others breathes the Spirit that unites, heals, and enlightens. Intercession is in the interests of a more abundant life for all. Intercession of the Church The presence of the Church to the world is basically intercessory, being for the world by praying for it. St. Paul gives his pastoral injunction in the letter to Timothy, to pray for the world, "first of all": "First of all then, I urge that supplications, prayers and intercessions and thanksgivings be made for all men . . . this is good and acceptable in the sight of God.our Savior who desires all men to be saved" (1 Tim 2:1-5). There are a lot of people who work for the world, but there is only the Church to pray for it. The Intercession and Community Development / 759 stress on the intercessory presence of the Church to the world does seem a little odd today. All of us as Christians feel the need for a deeper, more active, perhaps even violent engagement to aid the underdeveloped, to find some kind of justice for the oppressed, in doing to death all forms of dis-crimination on the basis of color, sex, race, ideology, and so forth. How-ever, it is precisely at this point that the Christian approach to intercession bears some thought. There is no need to introduce a cleft stick that will eventually snag our thinking. Clearly, there is always going to be some kind of praying for others, some kind of charity, some kind of particularized ser-vice. The point is to find the most comprehensive and creative activity that governs our being in the world. How does Christian love most radically express itself? Community and Interaession Let us now reflect more directly on the community implications of inter-cession, now that we have indicated a certain theological perspective. It is hardly original thinking to note that many of our problems of com-munication are the result of not being honestly and reverently open to the reality of "the other." What dominates communication is a fixed and truncated image of the unknown reality of the other person. If such a domi-nating kind of communication prevails, dialogue is destroyed. Communica-tion must therefore be approached more redemptively. The affirmation of the existence of the other is the vital factor. It reduces to having a real hope for' the other, in accepting the other person as finite, indeed, yet unfinished. A creative relationship to the other must imply that he or she can change and that we are willing agents of such a growth. We need to transcend all our preconceptions about the other for the sake of an acceptance that allows for this person as the outcome of a particular past and on the way to a spe-cial future in which we are involved. It is a question of consenting.to their total existence, not of abridging it in some way as though they had been finished by the past, or were locked irreversibly in the present. In respect to such an affirmative attitude, what does intercession imply? What basic stance am I taking up in relationship to the other? When I truly pray for you, what do I mean by "you"? Openness 1o lhe Mystery of the Other The activity of intercession is not any kind of affirmation or openness. It is the positing of a religious act: I pray to God for you. The divine di-mension is the living space of this ~elationship of praying-for. In this sense, it is the most open kind of bpenness, the most total kind of affirmation of the other person. To pray to God for someone else is to affirm, accept, and hope for the existence of theother, not as defined by my-self, but by' the gracious freedom of God. The beginnings and end of those for whom we pray are lost in the divine mystery, in the expanse of God's 760 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 creative love that bursts our preconceptions and transcends our categories. When I pray for others, I accept them as related to the ineffable mystery of God Himself. At least, then, prayer for others means this: we avoid summing people up, and affirm the fact of their future. It is not some kind of neutral open-ness, but a hopeful acceptance of the mystery of the other even if I cannot grasp it. Though I do not know the real name of the other person, though "it has not yet appeared" what he or she will be, I want this other to have a name and to enter into the fullness of a particular personal existence. Hence, prayer is an expression, a religious expression of respect for the other, and a total kind of acceptance. It is a readiness for dialogue and realistic communication. Intercession and Self-Statement If praying for others means that we are saying something about them, it also means that we are stating something about ourselves. Intercession as a sincere personal act will lead to its own moment of truth. For we are affirming something irrevocably about ourselves: we belong with those for whom we pray. There is an identification implied; a belonging in God; a co-humanity. Before intercession wants anything or makes any petition, it affirms our desire for communion, that we belong with those for whom we pray in the unity of the Spirit. Intercession must mean that we have time for this other. seemingly trite aspect. But the triteness will vanish when we how seldom it is that we really make time for others in the of their existence. Even if we are doing something for them, often distracts us from them. But when we pray for them, we are really making time for them, having time for them. Intercession of its nature does not admit a distraction from the reality of the other since it is such a deeply personalized activity. There is no "something to be done" to cloud the pres-ence of the other to me. It is being-for the other in an intense manner. Now this is a ask ourselves total mystery - the something The Seriousness of Intercession There is a deeper aspect. We pray to God for others. This is to say that we are relating to them in the deepest seriousness of our being as we stand before God. Before God we are "with" them. Whatever words we speak to them in the ordinary circumstances of life, whatever we do for them or to them, however we affect them, it is through intercession that we enter into the most all embracing and deeply founded relationship. To pray for others is an act of relational existence. When we intercede we are caught up in the dynamism of Christ's being-for others. He is ever giving Himself for the many. His flesh and blood, the symbols of His whole being are ever available to men. He is the food and drink of real life. For us to be united to Christ as we enter into His being-for others through intercession means Intercession and Community Development / 761 that we too begin to nourish the existence of others with what we are our-selves. It is true that intercession does not always appear to have such a grandeur and intensity about it. Considering it, nonetheless, as a central value in Christian life, we are invited to sense the shape of Christian ex-istence as Christ reveals it, and thus to enter more deeply into what we should be. What we call "praying for others" often enough is a rationaliza-tion for doing nothing for our neighbor. But this is not authentic interces-sion: being-for others in the unity and power of the Spirit is always action and always leads to further action and service. It is,-after all, entering into the prayer of Christ. Intercession and Our Work for Others There are' many ways in which this prayer of intercession may be an-swered and appear as an effective force in Christian existence. Perhaps the most obvious result of praying for others is our enablement to act more creatively and sensitively towards them. It would take a brave person to state categorically that his or her service for others, be it pastoral care, teaching, nursing, administration, or social work, was utterly selfless. Are we capable of being quite so certain about the authenticity of our existence-for- others? We know a good deal today about the subtle dynamisms of manipulation and rationalizing. So often our "selfless" work aims at ex-tending our own little empire of dependents. We need to affirm our position of power and status. We need others to need us. Prayer for others works to redeems us from the frailty of our not quite selfless service. When we pray for others, especially those we work for, we are "purifying our motives" as the old phrase had it. We are building into our service of others that total kind of self-giving already referred to. That special kind of being-for-others in prayer gradually pervades our more ex-ternal activity. It makes that strange forgetfulness of the other less likely, because in praying for them we are concerned with the ultimate mystery of their being. A service of others that is nourished by intercession is much more complete. In short, intercession makes our work for others more open, sensitive, creative, and free: open in that we are drawn out of our limiting precon-ceptions; .sensitive because we are concerned with the real mystery of the other; creative because we are putting ourselves in the position to see ever greater possibilities of service and support; and free in the sense that we are not turned in on ourselves in our activity but concerned for others in a Christian kind of love. Intercession and Witness There is a second grace following from intercession. It is that of a more effective witness. No doubt, there is a certain discretion implied in one's 762 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 prayerful concern for others. However, this can be overdone. It is surely part of the confession of our faith to give some expression to our interces-sion for others. The problem is often our own lack of conviction rather than the reaction of the people for whom we might pray. Whatever the case, the experience of the prayerful concern of others for us is a beautiful aspect of our experience of grace. When we hear someone saying with sincerity and simplicity, "I am praying for you," we sense something of the real delicacy and power of Christian love. The one who prays for us reveals himself as concerned with the most fundamental and hopeful affirmation of our being. In the horizon of our ultimate development, someone is with us and for us. The redemptive love of God finds a simple and tangible expres-sion in this intercession made for us. There remains the main question of the efficacy of ihtercession. It changes us in relation to the other for whom we pray. It is a strong yet delicate witness of love. But is it more effective, and if so, how? The Effectiveness of Intercession The effectiveness of intercession is bound up with the effectiveness of all prayer. It is part of the deep Christian question of how our asking is always receiving, of how our searching is always finding, of how our knock-ing is always admittance into the home. The assurance of the gospel is there. It is this extraordinary assurance that theology always seeks to penetrate in an effort to understand the inner dynamic of prayer. The best explanations bear on a thorough acceptance of the 'two ele-ments, the sincerity of God's gift and the genuineness of man's freedom. The Spirit makes us more active and open in our great desires. We are led to consent to the grace of God and make ourselves receptive to it~ There is no question of changing God who has already done His utmost, but of being changed ourselves, of becoming receptive to the gift of God: "If you but knew the gift of God!" It is man who is limited in his redeptivity to God, and so part of the experience of grace is to ask, to seek, to knock to en-large our responsiveness to the availability of the Lord. There is no need to employ a completely different explanation to come to some understanding of the effectiveness of intercession. For it is still a matter of man becoming more open to God, but now the setting is com-munitarian. We share a solidarity with one another in Christ, a communion of saints that bears on the personal fulfillment of each of us as individuals. We are bound together in the new humanity in the unity of the Spirit and in mediation. When I pray for others, I am acting out my solidarity with~them in Christ. I am recovering a fundamental dimension of my existence. Inter-cession is not some unwarranted intrusion into the life of the other, but the affirmation of our mutual belonging in Christ. Christ is not~only the mediator between man and God, but also between man and man. Intercession and Community Development / 763 Our free acts of praying for the other are, in the design of God, the condition of the Spirit's deeper penetration of ore" world. Salvation can come to us only insofar as we accept it in faith and prayer. By our inter-cession our world is made less impervious to the grace of Christ, more open to his healing redemption. We do not in any sense constrain the liberty of those we pray for. The ultimate effect of our prayer must be understood to serve the mystery of God's dealings with each individual: it is ultimately part of the mystery of God coming to the personal mystery of each of us. The practical point for our present reflections is that our intercessory concern with others makes our one world more open to the healing and transforming power of grace. Clearly, then, intercession must be a depth dimension of the vitality of any Christian community. The deepest kind of relationship to the other is that of praying-for, because it is an explicit relationship in God. Through the Spirit of Love we abide in God and in one another. Thus, we are prepared to express more particular relationships of communication. We are redeemed from the brittle, limited, forcing aspects of our communica-tion: mutual acceptance is grounded in its real foundation; our fiope for each other is enlarged to its real dimensions. A sharing of intercessory prayer heals polarizations and provokes honest, respectful communication. Intercession and Dialogue And so true dialogue becomes a possibility. It is not only a question of the community that prays together staying together. Doubtless, there is much merit in this hallowed dictum. Our more precise point is this: a community can begin the patient exercise of dialogue and open out a whole spectrum of redemptive relationships only when there is an atmo- Sphere of intercession. This means that not only does the individual pray for the community and the individuals in it, not only does the community pray for the individual, but that this attitude and activity is seen and felt. Then, the particularized relationships of mutual support and the psychological attitudes of accepta,nce and lov~ have their foundation in the most fundamental kind of co-humanity, that based on our common life in Christ, in the love of the Spirit that unites us: "Pray at all times, asking for what you need, praying in the Spirit on every possible occasion. Never get tired of staying awake to pray for all the saints . " (Eph 6: 18-20). The Vowed Life" Call, Response, Mission Anthony Tambasco, S.M.M. Father Anthony Tambasco, S.M.M., teaches in the Department of Theology of St. Louis University and lives at 3927 McPherson Avenue; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. One of the basic doctrines inculcated in religious life is that the vows are a deepening of-~the baptismal promises and a perfecting of the life of baptism. At this present time in the Church when stress is put less and less on religious life as a "more perfect way," and more and more on the vocation of every Christian to perfection, the religious begins to wonder what value there is in his vowed life. What can be added to the richness of baptismal life? Does not a "perfectifl'~,~ of baptism imply that baptism is really not quite enough for wholehearted sanctity? And implied behind these questions is often the unspoken, "What am I doing as a religious ~'hat I could not be doing as a good Christian lay person in the community?" Perhaps the answer to these questions lies in reappraising what has always been our basic affirmation concerning vows and in reconsidering how they relate to baptismal life. lncarnational Dimension The crux of our study will focus on the incarnational dimension of the three vows. Poverty, celibacy, and obedience do not add anything to the baptismal commitment as such, nor do they even deepen the essential commitment of baptism. Man is and .always remains given to the Lord in virtue of baptism, and that sacrament itself is a constant source of power, growth, and maturity of life. The value of the vows is not in adding to baptism, but rather in facilitating the full power of the sacrament, Their value lies in their incarnational witness, that is, they put into flesh and blood realities, into everyday human experiences, all that the sacrament 764 The Vowed Lile: Call, Response, Mission / 765 of baptism is trying to achieve. This is by no means an insignificant point. Man operates in the flesh. The more he can function as an enfleshed spirit, the more can the whole man penetrate the richness of life. Baptism is itself incarnational, since that is the very nature of a sacrament. The vows are intended to extend that incarnational dimension. They do not replace baptism or supersede it. They remind us of what baptism is doing. They point to it and thus facilitate its activity and creativity. It remains for us now to show how all this comes about, which leads us to consider the key words in the title for this article. They are chosen as summary themes behind what is really going on in baptism, and conse-quently as summaries also of what the vows should do. Before we focus in on the vows themselves, we should convince ourselves once again of just what baptism is doing. Let us take a few moments, then, to sum up the activity of baptism in terms of call, response, and mission. Baptism as the Call of God It is a common place of Biblical theology that all of salvation history begins with the divine initiative. This is most often expressed in the call of key figures at each stage of that history. Salvation events do not occur because man sees fit to undertake them, but because God has seen fit to call men to them. Now the same principle applies to each individual's salvation history. It all begins with the call of the Lord. This is the first basic .reality expressed by giving baptism. It signifies the call, the divine initiative in man's life. We may find numerous reasons for being Chris-tian: part of our heritage, the influence of some fine Christian friend, random hereditary selection, and so forth. All of these are not the ultimate source; baptism makes it clear that there is ultimately and continually an invitation of the Lord to new life in Him. A search through Biblical history reveals that there was not an epoch of that history which did not involve at the same time the call of significant personages by Yahweh. Most of the events could undoubtedly be explained by the natural flow of normal history; most were ordinary events of their time. But the Bible stresses constantly that the underlying truth was the call of God behind all the events. This remains the underlying truth expressed in baptism. By it, we hear the call of the Lord. Baptism and Response to God If this basic truth of baptism is clear, there is still another. No call is really effective if there is no response. Once again we see it clearly in all Biblical history. God breaks nobody's arm. Man remains free. In every epoch God awaits man's reply and consent. It is interesting to see the re-actions of various individuals in the Old Testament. Isaiah is overcome with awe at the encounter with the transcendent. His exclamation is "Woe is me!" Jeremiah is defensive and much concerned about his inability to 766 / Review Jor Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 meet his vocation. His reply is: "I am too young, Lord, send another" (Jer ,1:6). Ezechiel, on the other hand, is delighted with his call. When the Lord asks him to take in his words--to eat the scroll--the prophet says they are sweet as honey (Ez 3:lff). One is probably ~able to find the gamut of human reactions to the Lord's call in the various people of Old Testament history, including the reactions found in oneself. One thing is clear, nevertheless. Each man worked through his reactions to a total re-sponse to the Lord. The exercise of freedom was different in different men, but it was exercised. The response came through different attitudes and over different obstacles, but the Lord awaited a response. This same reality is present in baptism. The sacrament is designed as a response as well as a call. For one thing, the new rite begins with a request for baptism, and there is ample provision for man's reply to all that the Lord is doing and asking in the sacrament. In fact, every baptism requires an act of faith, at least on the part of the Church in the name of the person if the one baptized cannot do so himself. Baptism, then, becomes the beginning of man's re-sponse to the call of God. It is the beginning of faith life. Baptism and Mission A complete view of baptism demands one other theme or key word, that of mission. The very baptismal ceremony expresses an incorporation into a Church. It puts us in essential need of one another. It tells us that we cannot even hear the call of the Lord except with and through others, nor can. we respond except with and through others. Baptism begins and ends with a Church, a community within which one lives, and which one strives to share. A Christian is automatically a missionary; he has no choice, He has received his call and made his response through others, and he qn turn is the instrument for the call and response of others. No man is an island. The continual reality of baptism is hearing the call and making the response as a shared experience with others. There is call and response, but that is already mission. We have dwelt somewhat at length on what seems obvious, but the ob-vious is often what is overlooked. At any rate, if we can summarize baptism in terms of these three basic themes, then we have a convenient outline for seeing how the vows facilitate these functions of the sacrament. They become the incarnate realities of what baptism is doing. As we approach the vows, we could show how. each vow makes us more aware of each of the three aspects. We can sense the call of the Lord, for instance, behind material' goods; love of others, and our own personal.values and goals. We facilitate response in terms of our possessions, our affections, and our mind and will. We realize a mission to creation, to our own self-growth. Nevertheless, it seems that each vow has a special function' with. relation to one of the main aspects of baptism. I would like to suggest that each vow highlights one of the themes in a special way: poverty focuses on our The Vowed Life: Call, Response, Mission / 767 call from the Lord, celibacy on our wholehearted response, and obedience on our mission. Let us now consider each of these points in detail. Poverty and the Call ot the Lord The heart of the Christian life, we have said, begins in baptism with a call. Now if we take a deep enough and wide enough view of poverty, we will see how it reminds us constantly of the call of the Lord. I say deep and wide, because we must go much farther than a simple considera-tion of money or material goods. These enter in, and we will give thought to that aspect, but first we must have a broader view. When we speak of poverty, it is Biblical poverty, the spirit of anawim. We are talking of a concept that evolved over a long period of time in the Old Testament and culminated in a rich theological concept. The anawim were the physically poor to begin with, but under the influence of the prophets they came to be seen also as those whom Yahweh favored, who were his faithful rem-nant. In other words, there was another ingredient added to the sheer notion of being poor; the anawim were those who learned from their poor con-dition. Poverty became an occasion to learn dependence on the Eord, openness to His grace, trust in His love and providence. Isaiah sums that up when he says: "A remnant of Israel, the survivors of the house of Jacob, will no more lean upon him who struck them; but they will lean upon the Lord, the Holy One of Israel, in truth" (Is 10:20). When we talk about poverty, we are talking about an attitude. It is man who can stand naked before the Lord, who is empty, not only of money and goods, but of true power and influence, of reputation and esteem. He is the man who can see with the eyes of truth thathe is not self-sufficient, but that his sufficiency comes from God. He leans on the Lord. The point that we are making is that the man with such an attitude and disposition is the one who hears more easily the voice of the Lord. He is beloved of the Lord, the one constantly being called by the Lord. Zepheniah warns Israel that the Day of Yahweh is coming, a day of judg-ment, but he holds out a promise: "Yes, at that time I will deal with all who oppress you: I will save the lame, and assemble the outcasts; I will giv~ them praise and renown in all the earth, when I bring about their restoration" (Zeph 3:19). Isaiah reminds us.again and again that the Lord reaches out to his poor: "A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse . The spirit 'of the Lord shall rest iupon him . He shall judge the poor with justice, and decide aright for the afflicted" (Is 11:1ff). The Lord Himself continues in that thqught of Isaiah when He describes His own role as the call to the poor. De says He fulfills the words of the prophet: "The spirit of the Lord is up, on me, because the Lord has anointed me: he has sent me to bring glad tidings to the lowly, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners" (Lk 4:17if). 768 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/4 Material Poverty In the light of all these statements, it seems to me that the vow of poverty is to put us in a condition where we can more readily hear the call of the Lord to love and life. In a very tangible and human way, in an incarnate way, it helps us realize the favor of the Lord by making us one of his beloved poor. This should lead us to take the vow seriously. It means a level of poverty, even on the material side, so that the vow will not be an empty formula. This leads us to the consideration of money and goods. However, we must keep the goal toward which the vow is aimed, that is, the attitude of dependence on the Lord. No level of poverty is going to be effective if one does not learn from that poverty as the anawim of the Old Testament. We do maintain, then, that material poverty is in some way a necessary ingredient of the vow, but we should also see why we cannot decide on one uniform standard of poverty for all. Each one has his own psychological and physical make-up. For each one in a different way, a certain level of poverty will teach dependence and openness, but a further level will destroy or preoccupy to the point of hindering a view of the Lord. Not all of Israel's poor were the anawim in our theological sense. Not all of Israel's poor in a theological sense were indigent. I be-lieve that there are some common traditions for community poverty, but I also believe that in most matters pertaining to personalities of individual religious, the community should be broad enough to allow various life styles and various levels of poverty. The most harmful approach to poverty today is to compare one's own life style and level of poverty to another's. If one religious has banners or an enjoyable painting, then all should, according to this approach. Or if one can live in the poor style of the inner city, then all can. In truth, one's poverty is not another's. Let each religious live in a way that will teach true dependence and openness to the Lord and hence will make him more aware of the voice of the Lord calling him from bap-tism, but calling him in the flesh and blood realities of his daily life. Celibacy and Consecration In considering poverty as emphasizing the call of the Lord, we have also seen how that already involves a response or an attitude of dependence. Now we can turn to celibacy to see how that vow stresses man's response of baptism and reinforces the attitudes described in poverty. When we talk of celibacy, we are talking about consecration. Once again, it is not that full consecration cannot be.made in baptism. It is rather that celibacy is more of a visible, incarnational expression of that consecration. It points out that the whole man, body and soul, is given to the Lord, and becomes a constant reminder of that fact. Inherent also in the vow of virginity is the concept of a direct relationship to the Lord that it bespea~ks more em-phatically than a life style of marriage. The Old Testament already had some notion of consecration of this type in the temporary vows of con- The Vowed Lile: Call, Response, Mission / 769 tinence to be practiced by soldiers engaged in a sacred war, or priests engaged in solemn temple worship. Rabbinic tradition speaks of how Moses separated from his wife after he had had the vision of the burning bush. Nevertheless, the full value and meaning of celibacy did not and could not come until the New Testament. Only with Christ did the defini-tive kingdom come. Only in Christ has God made his entrance into history in a final and evident way. From that point on, there is a new and enduring love existing in this life, a love that is now accessible and a love that is the culminating point toward which all love is headed. This is the love of Christ the risen Lord, present to us and communicating a love that enters into the divine itself. With the advent of Christ, history has been so trans-formed and so elevated, that man no longer remains tied solely to human history; he reaches the Lord also by .way of transcendence. He attains the love of Christ more directly and more immediately than was ever dreamed of in the Old Testament. This seems to be what Paul had in mind when he said the virgin is worried only about the affairs of the Lord, how to please and serve him, while the married person is worried about the affairs of the spouse. It is not that marriage is bad, nor that it is even wrong to worry about how to serve one's spouse and please him. Nevertheless, marriage is indirect and through the mediation of another, while celibacy gives one to the Lord directly and without mediators. Celibacy is itself a mirror of what the Church herself must be. Paul writes in 2 Cor 11:2: "I am jealous of you with the jealousy of God him-self, since I have given you in marriage to one husband, presenting you as a chaste virgin to Christ." This phrase applies to all Christians. All love must eventually arrive at Christ. However, there are man3; ways in which that love can be achieved, and there are some who strive to achieve that love of Christ as it is literally described by

Issue 28.1 of the Review for Religious, 1969. ; EDITOR ¯ R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 3~i Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9~o6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited v¢ith ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial ottices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. 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Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to REvlr:w rOa R~L~GIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint ~ouis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answermg should be sent to the address Gf the Questions and Answers editor. JANUARY ~969 VOLUME ~8 NUMBER t REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Volume 28 1969 EDITORIAL OFFICE 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 BUSINESS OFFICE 428 East Preston'Street Baltimore, Maryland 21202 EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Dlederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gailen, S.J. Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is indexed in the Catholic Peri. odical Index and in Boo/~ Re. view Index. Microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Ml. crofilms; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. HILARY SMITH, O.C.D. Qgiet Prayer for Busy Busy religious today seem to be shying away from more contemplative approaches to prayer. The references to quiet and recollection in the older spiritual books are considered now to refer back to a time when every-one's approach to God was modeled on that of cloistered nuns and monks. Yet, outside the religious life people as diverse as Walter Kerr and about the importance of some we are to maintain our sanity. I think it might be helpful the approach to God through Harvey Cox are writing kind of quiet periods if at this time to see that recollection and periods of quiet is neither an approach suited only for monastic congregations nor simply a far out, naturalistic fad in-dulged in by flower children. I think it might be profit-able to examine the approach some of the busy fathers of the Church used in treating of prayer to show that traditionally the effort to find God through recollection was not a practice limited to people in monasteries and cloistered convents. It is interesting to see what a lofty concept of prayer some of the busiest fathers of the Church recommended to their equally busy congregations. While the fathers did speak of prayer as asking God for things, just as preachers a few years ago did, they did not hesitate to talk or write about prayer as a simple raising of the heart to God, as recollection. This might be expected among the monastic Fathers such as St. Basil. But I think it is significant that the more active fathers--bishops, teach-ers-- should tell their congregations--the same people they warned about fornication and drunkenness--about the higher kinds of prayer. It will be helpful, before looking at the works of the fathers, to establish a fairly clear idea of the notion of praye~ that we will be looking for. What we hope to find are suggestions on the part of the fathers that their ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.CJ3., lives at 7907 Bellaire Boul-evard in Houston, Texas 77096. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS congregations of working men and housewives practice what we would call today, or at least would have called a few years ago, "mental prayer." In St. Teresa of Avila's classic definition, mental prayer "is nothing but friendly intercourse, and frequent solitary converse with Him who we know loves us." 1 This definition of prayer is broad enough to include methodical meditation and even vocal prayers said well, but I believe that it shows that the essence of mental prayer is not a systematic arrangement of considerations with a concluding resolution. Rather mental prayer consists essentially in "tratando," dealing with God, in a friendly way. St. Teresa presents a more specific method of mental prayer, sometimes called the prayer of active recollection. "It is called recollection because the soul collects together all the faculties and enters within itself to be with its God," St. Teresa says in the now quaint sounding language of faculty psychol-ogy. It is with this specific form of prayer, active recollec-tion, that we shall be especially interested. It is impor-tant for us today to understand that this approach to prayer was not peculiar to St. Teresa or to the medieval monastic tradition. It represents a traditional Christian approach to prayer recommended to busy Christians long before men and women with education and leisure were almost all found in monasteries and convents. I hope that the following few remarks of the fathers on prayer will show that the early fathers, not haunted'as spiritual writers a few years ago were, by the spectre of Quietism, did not hesitate to recommend to their congregations a form of prayer that we might think to be too lofty or too mystical. One. very good example of a father of the Church addressing himself to ordinary lay people yet recommend-ing a lofty prayer of recollection is St. Gregory of Nyssa. He was almost certainly married, since in his treatise on virginity he says that he regrets that he himself is pre-vented from attaining to the glory of this virtue. Al-though it is true that he lived in a monastic community for a while, he is most famous as the active bishop of Nyssa, a post he held for eight years., In his works es-pecially in his commentaries on the Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes, he has in view the needs of the average Christian. Although he is inclined to the asceticism of the desert, he is not a desert father living in isolation from the world around him--a world that seems in many ways similar to our own--but rather a man living in the .1 St. Teresa, Way of Perlection, in The Complete Works o/ St. Teresa, trans. E. Allison Peers (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1950), v. 2, p. 115. world, steeped in its culture and interested in all it has to offer.~ In his treatise on the Lord's Prayer, St. Gregory de-scribes his idea of prayer: "First my mind must become detached from anything subject to flux and change, and tranquilly rest in motionless spiritual repose, so as to be rendered akin to Him who is perfectly unchangeable; and then it may address Him by this most familiar name and say: Father." a St. Teresa's description of the prayer of recollection in her commentary on the Lord's Prayer is closely parallel. She says: "The soul withdraws the senses from all outward things and spurns them so com-pletely that, without its understanding how, its eyes close and it cannot see them and the soul's spiritual sight becomes clear." 4 We must be careful to understand that neither St. Teresa nor St. Gregory is describing some form of mys-tical prayer. St. Teresa is careful to explain that what she is describing "is not a supernatural state but depends upon our volition; by 'God's favor we can enter it of our own accord." 5 Thus St. Teresa distinguishes this recol-lection from what the students of mystical phenomena called "infused contemplation." St. Gregory is not so explicit, but he gives us to understand that the mind lifts itself from created things and places itself at rest in God. There seems to be no question here of God effect-ing something extraordinary in communicating with the Christian. Less to the point is St. Gregory's definition of prayer in general. He says: "Prayer is intimacy with God and contemplation of the invisible." n Though not so graphic as the earlier description, this definition shows St. Greg-ory's lofty concept of prayer; and, found in a treatise written for laymen, it shows that he was not afraid of presenting his lofty ideas to ordinary people. Another early Christian writer who recommends a contemplative type of prayer to ordinary men and women is Origen. His treatise, De Oratione, one of the first Christian treatises of prayer, was written as a reply to questions raised by his friend and patron, the married deacon Ambrose. Although Origen does not describe a kind of active recollection as clearly as St. Gregory, he does indicate that married folk, such as Ambrose, need not confine their praying to the recitation of vocal pray-ers or to asking God for favors. His description of the preparation for prayer brings to mind St. Teresa's defini- = St. Gregory of Nyssa, The Lord's Prayer. The Beatitudes, trans. Hilda C. Graef (Westminster: Newman, 1954), pp. $, 8, 15, 19. 8 Ibid., p. ~8. *Peers, v. 2, 115. 5 Peers, v. 2, 110. 6 St. Gregory of Nyssa, p. 24. + ÷ ÷ Quie~ Prayer VOLUME 28 ~.969 5 4- Hilary Smith, O.C.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6 tion of prayer as a friendly converse with God. He says that by the very way one disposes his mind to prayer, by the very attitude with which one prays, "he shows that he is placing himself before God and speaking to Him as present, convinced that He is present and looking at Him." 7 Further on he says: "When praying let us not babble, but let us speak to God"; and, "When we pray in this way [in secret] we shall be conversing with God." In another context, in his Contra Celsum, Origen speaks of approaching God in a similar, contemplative-like way. Celsus has complained that the Christians do not worry about the cult due to the national idols, nor do they erect temples for their own worship. Origen answers in a beautiful passage where he says that Christians carry the image of their God within themselves. Every Chris-tian, he says, "strives to build an altar and carve a statue himself, keeping his eyes fixed on God, keeping his heart pure, and trying to become like God." s Again in De oratione, Origen recommends that Am-brose find a quiet place in his home to pray: "If you want to pray in greater quiet and without so much. dis-traction, you may choose a special place in your own house, if you can, a consecrated place, so to speak, and pray there." 0 Origen might well have been speaking to today's busy sisters. Another Church writer known for his work on prayer is Tertullian. Scholars say that Origen very likely drew many of his ideas on prayer from a Greek translation of Tertullian's De oratione. Some idea o[ his realistic recom-mendations to busy people on prayer may be drawn from this remark in his treatise on marriage and remarriage. He has been speaking of the value of continence as an aid in attaining union with God. Then almost equating prayer and union, he says that "men must need pray every day and every moment of the day." This may seem like only a paraphrase of the command "Pray always," but in the context it can be considered as an elaboration of Christ's command. Tertullian does not take Christ's words to mean that we should be constantly petitioning God for help, but rather that Christians should be con-stantly united to God in prayer through much the same kind of converse or treating with God that St. Teresa recommends. One last remark, this h'om St. John Damascene, may serve as a summing up ot what we have seen in St. Greg-ory o~ Nyssa, Origen, and Tertullian about the possi-r Origen, Prayer. Exhortation to Martyrdom, trans. John J. O'Meara (Westminster: Newman, 1954), p. 37. Cels., 8, 17, 18; quoted in Jean Danielou, Origen (New York, 1955), p. 35. Origen, Prayer, p. 43. bility for a contemplative approach to prayer for busy people. It is true that at the time he produced his little work, Barlaam and Joasaph, he was more of a monk than an active preacher, but he says that he is summarizing the ideas of the fathers before him. He says that the fathers define prayer as "the union of man with God," "angel's work," and "the prelude of gladness to come." He asks: "How shalt thou converse with God?" and an-swers: "By drawing near him in prayer." And he ex-plains: "He that prays with exceedingly fervent desire and a pure heart, his mind estranged from all that is earthly and grovelling, and stands before God eye to eye, and presents his prayers to him in fear and trem-bling, such a one has converse and speaks to him face to face." lo Better known, and at the same time a perfect example of a man who was busy, prayerful, and ready to recom-mend prayer to his congregation was St. Augustine. The ditficulty in discussing St. Augustine's approach to prayer briefly is that he has said so much about prayer. I have selected a few passages in which he seems to be speaking especially to busy people and in which he seems to be dealing with what we would call mental prayer, and more specifically with the approach to mental prayer that we described above as active recollection. Shortly after his conversion, before his baptism, Augus-tine retired for awhile to the country where he might have the leisure for prayer. We know from his Con-fessionsix that at this time he began to pour out his soul to God using the words of the Psalmist. But his corre-spondence with his friend Nebridius reveals that at the same time he was trying to withdraw from the noise of the world to find God in the depths of his soul; that he was, in our terminology, practicing mental prayer. His withdrawal was not a flight into the desert or monastery. He still considered himself and Nebridius as "busy people." The recollection he recommends to Nebridius is a practice made easier by the.solitude and leisure he is enjoying for a time in the country, but it is a practice which he says will be helpfullin the midst of activity. First he tells Nebridius of the advantages of adoring God in the "innermost recesses of the soul." He promises him that this recollection brings with it a "freedom from fear," and "an inner peace which permeates our human activity when we return to activity from our inner shrine." Finally, he tells him: "You, Nebridius, are free 10St. John Damascene, Barlaam and Joasaph, trans. Gr. Wood-ward and H. Mattingly (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1937), p. 295. ~ St. Augustine, Contessions, trans. F. J. Sheed (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1943), p. 185. + + Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, 1969 Hila~J Smith, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS of fear only when you are inwardly recollected." lz From the Very beginning of h.is life as a Christian; St. Augustine shows, an attraction to solitary converse with God. His own prayer and the advice he gives his busy friend Nebri- ~lius furnish an interesting contrast to the prayer for-merly described in convent spiritual 'reading books. There is no question in St. Augustine's mind about re-pe~ iting many vocal prayers or following-some well-or-ganized meditatiOn plan. A few ~ears later, now a priest, St. Augustine con-tinued his exhortations, .encouraging a ~ontemplative approach to prayer, in The Lord's Sermon 'on" the Mount. He comments on Christ's words: "But when you pray, enter into your chambers." The chambers, h~ says, are our hearts.' We must close the door on things without, "all transitory and visible things which through our fleshly senses noise in upon us while we pray." Then there takes place a turning of the heart tO God; and this very effort we make in praying calms the heart, makes it clean and more capable of receiving the divine gifts. He says: "It is not words we should use in dealing with God. but it is the things we carry in our mind and the direction of our thoughts with pure .love and single affection." These ideas, coming as they do early in St. Augustine's life as a Christian, and very much like, in spirit, the teachings of the neo-Platonists on contemplation, may seem more like Platonism than Christianity. In fact, it might be argued that most of the people cited thus far, including St. Teresa, were influenced by.Platonism. It is not within the scope of this paper to discuss the influence of Platonism on Christian mysticism, nor is the question of great practical import. If authorities on prayer have found that they could effectively approach God in a way that resembles the approach of some philosophers to peace or wisdom, then the marvelous thing is not that some Christians are using a pagan philosophy in their prayer, but rather that there is such a universal inclina-tion in human nature to withdraw from the hustIe and bustle of the world from time to time and turn to loftier things. This inclination was recognized by the pagan philosophers and far eastern mystics, but it can find its best realization in a Christian context in which a personal God comes to live intimately with those who are really dedicated to Him. Later in his life, St. Augustine kept hi~ lofty concept of prayer, although, as a result of his struggle with the Pelagians, he seems to make more mention of prayer as petition. He has to explain that no one can receive ~St. Augustine's Letters, trans. Sr. WilIrid Parsons, S.N.D. (New York: 1951), v. 1, p. 157. grace simply by asking for it, but rather we ask because we have been moved by grace. Nevertheless, his classic definition of prayer in the ninth sermon on the Passion shows that he is not limiting the prayer of his congrega-tion to vocal prayer or meditation. He defines prayer as "the affectionate movement of the mind towards God." In the Enarratio in Psalmum 85, we find the idea ex-pressed above by St. Teresa that prayer is converse with God. St. Augustine says: "Your prayer is conversation with God. ~Nhen you read, God speaks to you; when you pray, you speak to God.'.' As St. Augusdnffbecame more and more imbued with the theology and language of the Bi, ble and more forgetful of Platonism, his thoughts on prayer at6 expressed more in Biblical metaphors than in philosophical abstractions. He had told Nebridius to turn away f(om created things and try to converse with God in the center of his soul. His descriptions of this contemplation of God are not too unlike the instructions of the neoPlatonists on the contemplation of true wisdom. In his later years, St. Augustine continues to instruct Christians on~ the importance of dealing With God through the heart, not just with the lips, of worshiping God in spirit, in truth, not simply in an external way. But now he presents his teaching more in the words of Christ, St. John the Evangelist, the Psalms, and less in the language of Plodnus. He frequently cites Christ's directive about praying in our own chambers, and he explains that the chambers are our hearts,is He quotes Jesus also on not using many words when we pray;14 He likes to point out that the Psalmist who so frequently calls or shouts to God is crying with his heart: " 'You have heard, Lord, the voice of my prayer. You heard when I shouted to you.' This shout to God is made not with the voice but with the heart. Many, with their lips ¯ sil.ent,~ shout with their hearts; others, making a great deal of noise with their mouths, have their hearts turned away and can ask for nothing. If then, you are going to shout, shout from within where God hears." ~ St. Augustine, then, all through his life recommended to his congregations a lofty form of prayer. He did not think it unrealistic to suggest that his people, who Were not cloistered nuns or monks, should strive after a prayerful, contemplative awareness of God's personal presence. Very likely he had achieved a contemplative union with God himself in the midst of his bu~y life and knew that it was possible for others. The modern, harried religious should not feel that his own contemplative aspirations are at all unrealistic. Rather he should see taEnar, in Ps, n. 5; Epis. 130. 14 Sermo 80. 15 Enar. II in Ps. 30, serm. 5. ÷ + ÷ VOLUME 28, 1969 9 ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C.D . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS them as an important aspect of the Christian tradition in which he lives. Another great, active Church father with lofty ideas about prayer is St. John Chrysostom. He also defines prayer as a "conversation ~vith God." a6 He explains the first verse of Psalm 140, "Lord I shouted to you and you heard me," as the cry of a deeply prayerful man. The Psalmist here, he says, speaks of "an internal shout, from a heart of fire. He who thus shouts with his heart, turns to God with his whole heart." Always interested in the affective nature of prayer, he makes an important dis-tinction in explaining verse one of Psalm 5: "You hear my shout." The shout, he says, is not "an intonation of the voice but an affection of the mind." 17 To indicate the lofty nature of the kind of prayer he has in mind he says that it is a duty which we have in common with the angels. To pray with the proper rev-erence we must remove ourselves from worldly things and place ourselves in the middle of the choirs of angels. Although St. John Chrysostom has special praise for the life of monks he is anxious that everyone should give themselves to prayer, "both civil servants and private citizens, both men and women, both the elderly and the young, both slaves and freemen." as And he gives special instructions for busy housewives who would like to spend some time in quiet prayer. He reminds them that unlike their husbands "in the middle of the forum or before the tribunal, stirred up by external things as by heavy waves," housewives should be able to sit down for awhile in the privacy of their homes and recollect themselves. In this way they are like those who go out to the desert, bothered by no one: "Thus the housewife, always remaining within, can enjoy a permanent tran-quillity." Obviously St. John Chrysostom had the same notion of a housewife's life as many men today--and his ideas were probably received with the same disdain. But we are not citing John Chrysostom so much for his socio-logical data as for the importance he attaches to a con-templative form of prayer even for housewives. He ex-plains that even if she is forced to go out to Church or to the baths, once she has acquired the habit of recollection she need not be perturbed. What is more, the prayerful, recollected wife will be able to quiet a restless husband and help him forget the worries and cares of the forum.19 If we remember that St. John Chrysostom recommends a certain amount of solitude and prayer for everyone, ~ In Cap. X1 Gen., Horn. 30 n. 5. a7 Exposit. in Psalm. 5, n. 3. rs Homil. encomiast, in S. Meletium, n. 3. a~ In Jo. homil. 61, nn. 3, 4. we can profit from his commentary on Christ's prayer away from the crowds. St. John is not suggesting that everyone flee into a desert, but rather that everyone imi-tate Christ by leaving the noise of society for a little while to be able to pray and thus to return strengthened and fortified. It is thus that St. John explains the words of St. Matthew: "After he had dismissed the crowds he went up into the hills by himself to pray." ~0 "Why did Christ go up into the mountain? That he might teach us how appropriate is the wilderness, is solitude, for calling upon God. He thus frequently sought the wilderness and spent the night there that he might instruct us that we ought to seek out tranquil times and places for prayer." ~x St. John insists that the solitude necessary for prayer is not the physical solitude of the desert. Christians can pray everywhere because "God is always near." We can pray "in the bath [St. John seems especially interested in the possibility of prayer here] on the road, in bed, before the judge." ~ He says that it is not necessary to be rich or a philosopher to pray, but that even manual laborers can pray "as in a monastery: for it is not the comfortable-ness of a place, but an upright life that brings us quiet." ~3 St. John's insistence that everyone can pray everywhere at any time is b:.sed on two principles: First that God is always near to us, actually living in us as in a temple: "The grace of the Holy Spirit makes us temples of God so that it might be easier for us to pray." ~4 Secondly, we can pray always because in prayer, "the mouth makes no sound, while the mind shouts." Religious should understand, then, that aspiring to a more simple, contemplative approach to prayer, even in the midst of a highly active life, is not at all unrealistic. In fact it is more in keeping with the Christian tradition and the aspirations of human nature than the formalized meditations stressed so much in religious houses in the last two or three centuries. It is an approach to God long fostered by some of the most active fathers of the Church and recommended by them to their equally active con-gregations. .-o Mt 14:23. -~ In Mt. homil. 50. m Homil. de Canan., n. 11. ~ Ad llluminand. Cateches., I, n. 4. =4De Anna, serm. IV, n. 6. + 4- Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, ]! VINCENT P. BRANICK, S.M. Formation and Task ÷ ÷ + Vincent P. Bran-ick0 S.I~I., is a mem-ber of the Maria-nist Seminary; Regina Mundi; gri-bourg, Switzerland. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS A dilemma confronts those charged with the forma-tion of religious today. A program of formation which encourages the spontaneity of the religious, one which minimizes regulations and concentrates on personal re-sponsibility seems to be the only valid method of forma-tion today. This is true not only for houses of formation but also for active community life where growth in per-sonal identity and in a way of life must continue. But in such a program of formation severe difficulties of vocation often arise. Self-doubt replaces original enthusiam. Scep-ticism challenges the very viability of religious life. And many leave. I believe these vocation difficulties are neces-sarily connected with this type of formation. In such programs administrators engage and direct the critical spirit of members to the interior structures of the life. Focusing on the life of the individual and the com-munity, this criticism strives to minimize the regulated activities and increase the optional elements of daily life. By allowing a religious to choose for himself the details of his life, the administrators hope both to develop per-sonal autonomy and help the younger member to identify himself fully with the life of the community. Seldom, however, do these great hopes materialize in a more vigorous religious life. In fact where superiors implement these reforms most whole heartedly, the greatest difficulties seem to arise. The critical spirit focuses on the interior structures of the life, and the agonizing questions begin. To what minimum should we limit our regulations? What is the basic concept of re-ligious life from which we can derive these minimum regulations? Can the present superiors be trusted to define religious life as it should be? Can a member rely on anyone but himself to conceive the definition and regulations of the religious life he is to lead? This distrust, self-doubt, and aggression generated by this type of criticism is isolating religious in an extreme individualism and is draining away real enthusiasm. The difficulty, however, is not with the criticism in itself, I believe, as with the notion of regulation implied both in this type of critical questioning and in the defensive at-tempts to answer. The basic difficulty consists in a loss of the practical sense of rule, in attempts to deduce rules from a defined concept of religious life rather than from a practical selection of religious tasks. Without an appreciation of objective task as the coun-terpart of rule, the efforts to criticize and modernize our programs of formation are developing an ex.ag.ger.a.ted self-consciousness. Our great emphasis on minimizing rules and developing autonomy is throwing out of bal-ance the dynamic but delicate dialectic of human life ¯ between self-consciousness and self-forgetfulness in task, between subjectivity and objectivity. "Responsibility," "fulfillment," and "freedom," the key words of today's personalism, pertain to subjective states of an individual, just as "minimum regulation" and "optional time" pertain to the subjective or interior conditions of a community. These terms indicate a re-flection of the subject on himself. As developing from this reflection, they are abstract and formal, belonging to a secondary thematic. As categories of human life they are certainly valid; but when taken out of their relation to a concrete activity in a concrete situation, they are deceiving. When considered outside of this relation, these terms appear very precise in. idealistic simplicity. They are ideals and in their simplicity, they evoke a radical response, a response that is immediate and totally absorbing. Men die for freedom. Priests leave their Church for fulfillment. But when these categories are not separated from their context in life, their simplicity is lessened by the com-plexity of daily business. Their radicalness is tempered by respect for the values of concrete situations. The re-sponse to these ideals can still be radical and totally ab-sorbing, but in a way that is more realistic, persevering, and in the end more effective. The objective and concrete counterpart of these sub-jective and reflex categories is task. Task is the creation of values that can be shared, values not simply of an individual subject but of a public world, where many can partake. Yet, task is more than a man's material work. It includes also his duty to worship God, his duty to be thoughtful and thankful of truth and beauty, because such duties are eminently public, even when accom-plished in silence. Task is the outward going service of that which is not self. By emphasizing task as the necessary correlative of subjectivity, we respect the nature of the human subject. Man is no't an enclosed container but an outward thrust to another. Human subjectivity is basically intention-ality. The self becomes self in becoming other. Here we 4. ÷ Formation and Ta~k VOLUME 28, 1969 + ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 14 have the fundam.ental human paradox--a man finds himself through his interest in another, a man achieves personal autonomy by binding himself in love of the other, a man can reflecton ideals only when engaged in tasks. Only the altruistic love of a task can preserve and intensify personal autonomy in the unavoidable restric-tions imposed by daily choices. Choosing some goal or some means to a goal always restricts and limits, whether a person simply accepts, another's choice or whether he chooses for himself. A decision always ex-cludes a multitude of alternatives. But a person who loves his task in no way loses autonomy by this restriction. In his love he concentrates himself in the positive core of his decision, locating his life in the values he wants to accomplish. Without that love he remains scattered over all the alternatives so that the restriction of the al-ternatives becomes a restriction of self. For example, one who loves the task of community prayer can accept the restrictions of a community schedule. One who loves his task of witnessing to eschatological values can accept disengagements from some elements of the commerce of civilization. In these loves a person seeks the fulfillment of what is not himself, and by so doing he develops in and through the unavoidable limitations. Fulfillment by love of task is such a common occur-rence that we tend to overlook it. We find it in the suc-cessful professional man, in the loving parents of a fam-ily, in the dedicated missionary. Conversely, we are struck by the lack of autonomy in the person concen-trating on his own stature in a type of adolescent self-consciousness. The person concentrating directly on achieving his autoflomy is the person least capable of finding it. By centering his attention on himself he can-not maintain the intensity of his normal thrust to the outside without which he cannot live as a mature free man. The man without a task is a tragic figure. The soul searching into which he is forced only aggravates the loss of identity he suffers. He is caught in a closed circle until another comes to him and appeals for his cooperation. In our present appreciation of personalism, the notion of task has faded from importance. Task appears as an impersonal category, something to do rather than some-one to relate to. But in no way are task and person op-posed. Rather the two notions are inseparable in the understanding of human relations. A task has signifi-cance only in view of the person who will benefit from it. And relating to a person implies concrete action that is more than purely symbolic gesture. To limit our cor-poral activities in interpersonal dynamics to mere signs of interior attitudes is to attempt an angelic community and to end up in a gross sentimentalism. Our interper-sonal relations are not simply encounters between spirits. Human community demands the creation of values through corporal work as a medium of com-munication. Task as an impersonal category is an in-dispensable presupposition for a truly human person-alism. A human community receives its unity and its identity from its common tasks. No community can exist on its own substance. A community which concentrates only on interior community life will never attain the well being of its members. The cohesion and dynamism of a com-munity results from a common advancement toward a goal which transcends the community. The convergence of the members with each other results from the con-vergence of all the members on a common goal. In selfless striving for this goal, the members find them-selves united. Their mutual confidence rests on the con-fidence each has that the other' is striving for the com-munity goal, or at least is not surreptitiously seeking his personal advantage to the detriment of that goal. Dis-unities are constructive only if they occur in the context of a greater dynamic unity. If the members agree on their general task, their different ways of conceiving the specific work enter into a productive dialectic. Even adamant differences about the means to accomplish a task are not divisive in the context of agreement about the end. But where members disagree on the basic task of the community, where they dispute the primary pur-pose of themselves as a group, there can be no dynamic coherence. No amount of dedication of the members to each other as individuals can supply for this lack of dedication to a common task. No matter how much the members love each other as persons, they cannot function together. In such a group, accord can exist only by agree-ment not to work together. That is, accord can exist be-tween individuals, but not between members of a func-tioning community. After saying all this about the dependence of the in-dividual and. communitarian subject on its tasks, we cannot stop here without risking a onesided distortion. All I have said is open to the totalitarian interpretation that individuals and communities should uncritically accept and dedicate themselves to tasks handed to them from the past. This is not true. A continuation of the analysis of the relation between self and task indicates why this is not true. Our objective tasks are not fully intelligible in and by themselves. These tasks depend on the subject just as the subject depends on the tasks. Every task presupposes a certain readiness in the subject. Ira man is not ready to meet objective realities by a Formation and Task VOLUME 2B, 1969 15 V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS certain sensitivity or openness to them, he will never recognize them when he comes across them. And with-out this recognition the objective task can never exist. An educational task exists only for an educated person. A religious task exists only for a religious person. Only by knowing his own religious demensions can a person articulate and thereby give reality to an objective reli-gious task. Besides depending on a subject's recognition, a task also depends for its existence on a subject's freedom in accepting or rejecting it. A task exists only as someone's task, and only in a person's free decision can a task be-come his. The automaton cannot create a task for itself because it cannot freely identify its good with the accom-plishment of the task. A free decision is thus necessary for the existence of a task, and such a free decision pre-supposes a subject who has already achieved.a degree of selfhood or autonomy. This dependence of the object on the subject holds also for communitarian dynamics. The recognition and free acceptance or rejection by a community of its task presupposes a level of coherence and self-understanding already .existing in that community. A task could never draw a group if the group could not direct itself through a group decision. We seem to have an unbreakable circle here. The autonomy of the subject presupposes a thrust toward its objective task, but this thrust presupposes the au-tonomy of the subject. In reality this mutual dependence exists more as a dialectic or oscillation between self and task, by which the subject grows in maturity and his work grows in precision and importance with each turning of the self to his task and from task to self. At the beginning of this dialectic lies, on the one hand, the basic openness of the human spirit, and, on the other, the original call of reality which can only be the direct appeal of God Himself. Task, as this dialectic reveals, has a role in human life which is at once relative and absolute. Any given task will be relative because it depends on the subject who can therefore criticize and change it. This dependence of the task on the recognition and decision of the subject refutes a totalitarian submission of the person to his work. The autonomy which the task confers on the subject is the autonomy l~y which he can dominate the task. But because this autonomy is indissolubly linked with task as such, task is absolutely indispensable to human existence. We cannot change or criticize our need to work as such. And this absolute need to give ourselves to task is present in a concrete way in any given task no matter how temporary or contingent it is. In all its provisional and contingent character, the task at hand remains the source of dynamism for the human dialectic of growth. In fact, the mature development of task requires a very delicate balance between self-reflection and outward-going service, between critical detachment and dedicated engagement, between autonomy and abnegation. Today in many areas of religious life, I believe, we have upset this delicate balance. The sudden wave of self-criticism which religious life has undergone has over-weighted the subjective pole of the dialectical balance. Individuals and communities have almost locked their sights on themselves in a direct concentration on their subjective fulfillment. The surging experience of the need to criticize and modernize the communitarian tasks is failing to issue into a more intense outward dedica-tion. This need to criticize and modify tasks has resulted primarily from the advances of Christian theology in the last twenty years, advances which in a way climaxed and received great publication in the Second Vatican Council. Modern theological insights showed the great horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, the great variety of ways in which Christianity can be :lived. The former theologies. tended to picture Christian life in a rather narrow ver-tical plane which allowed variety only in terms of hier-archic positions. The various tasks of Christian life dif-fered from each other because some were more perfect than others. This gave an absolute character to de-cisions in the selection of concrete tasks. In this narrow but precise view of Christian life, the various tasks of religious orders--their ways of prayer, their apostolic works, their degree of cloister--all seemed direct deduc-tions from the gospel following necessarily from a totally unlimited acceptance of Christianity. By showing the horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, modern theology has changed this view. We can now see many ways of acting and working as Christians, each way with a dignity proper to itself, a dignity that is not simply a limited edition of that belonging to a more perfect task. Modern theology has not depreciated the basic tasks traditional to religious life; but it has rela-tivized them by presenting them in the context of other tasks, thus showing that the acceptance of a task results more from contingent decisions than from absolute de-ductions. There are pressing needs for so many tasks that no necessity binds a community or an individual to one or the other. Seeing for the first time the contingent and provisional character of their tasks, many communities and individ-uals are experiencing a real crisis of identity. The tra-ditional tasks on which they built their identity seem 4- ÷ 4. Formation and Task VOLUME 28, 1969 ]7 ÷ ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]8 to have been depreciated because they have been rela-tivized. For people who tend to think always in ab-solute categories, this relativization of traditional com-munitarian tasks is anguishing. Many religiou.s have become worried about their fulfillment and autonomy through such tasks. This worry often leads to a search to reabsolutize the community tasks, finding a modern task that is the task of the Church today. Although opening new possibilities and purging re-ligious life of obsolete structures, this intense concern about personal antonomy and this criticism of all tasks at hand is impeding the turning outward toward work in self-dedication. By fixing attention on tile subject, this critical self-consciousness is obstructing the oscillation between selfhood and task and in this way is diminishing the general vitality of religious life. Houses of formation are especially susceptible to this loss of vitality becanse it is there that the dialectic be-tween religious identity and religious task must begin. Equipped with neither the subjective identity of a re-ligious congregation nor an understanding involvement in its present tasks, candidates arrive usually with simply a willingness to enter. At this moment of entrance only a vivid presentation of tasks can engender enthusiasm, a presentation of tasks which the person sees worthy of his dedication. Concentrating on such tasks a young religious will gradually develop a self-possession in the style of the congregation that will make him fully responsible for its works, that will allow him to live without thought of external pressure, that will enable him to criticize and modify his tasks. But if on entering religious life or during the years of formation, he sees in the administrators a paralyzing hesitation regarding tile most basic tasks, if his program of formation turns his attention constantly back to him-self in questions of autonomy, fulfillment, and minimali-zation of rules, the dialectic of growth can hardly begin to operate. There is certainly no facile answer to the problem of developing religious enthusiam in a time when all tasks of religious life are being revaluated. We cannot simply ignore the severe doubts that do in fact exist in the minds of administrators. But the present hesitation to present concrete tasks to religious is serionsly hampering the possibility for formation. A rehabilitation of religious task must take place on two levels. The first level is that of the Church as a whole. On this level we can recognize a permanence and uni-versality of tasks. In the life of the Church there is a permanent need for some people to pray in a way that disengages them from personal participation in the eco- nomics and politics of our world, just as there is a per-manent need for others to ~ray in a way that involves them person.ally in economic and political progress. These needs derive from the very nature of Christianity. On this universal level we can articulate a theology that shows the beauty and depth both of the traditional and. o~ the new tasks of the Church. Such 'a theology of the functions of the Church can present these tasks in such clarity that they engender enthusiasm and initiate self-dedication. The second level is that of the particular congrega-tion. On this level we must learn to understand the co,,n~tin, gent and limited nature 'of the congregation'~ en-traiace into the universal work'of the Church. From the expansive range of ecclesial tasks, each with its own theology and permanence, a" congregation must decide on specific tasks to assume. This decision is necessarily contingent on historidal and p~rs~nal ,circumstances, but this contingency need not prevent an intense adherence~ to the tasks. The decision by a congregation will be based on its continge~tt capabilities, as a result of a his-tory of insights and ~pecializatiops, but in that decision a congregation enters into theuniversal dimensions evangelization. A chosen task may not be the most cen-tial, the most perfect possible task of the Church today, but by accepting it with its limi(ations, a religious con-gregation can take its part in the whole work of the Church in all its depth and beauty. The only alternative' to this is a perfectionist idealism that paralyzes all forts. Although in the actual appropriation of a task the two levels blend together, each operates according'to its own rules. The first level is theological and universal; the second, historical and contingent. Formation to task takes place on both levels. It educates to a vivid aware-ness of the universal tasks of the Church and to an ac-ceptance of the contingent communitarian decisions by which a society shares in these tasks. By focusing attention on the fulfillment and spon-taneity of the individual, many programs of formation today run contrary to the needs of both levels. The tasks of the Church are being obscured. Relieving the anguish-ing needs of the people of the world, bringing all men to an intimate knowledge and love of Christ, worshiping God as a community~these tasks of the Church are being displaced by concern for personal development. At the same time, the emphasis on minimizing rules and foster-ing spontaneity is blurring the need to accept the con-tingent communitarian decision of a task and the struc-ture of authority that makes the communitarian decision possible. Certainly we should be pruning away obsolete Formation and Task 19 rules, rules which are no longer associated with a task. But the effort simply to minimize rules for its own sake is equivalent to the effort to minimize community tasks. For a religious dedicated to the community work, the minimization of rules is not a burning issue. The dis-tinction between what is regulated and what is optional is of secondary importance. Rules appear as means of coordinating community effort, as expressions of what the community expectsof an individual, how he can contribute to the community functions. Since contribu-tions to the community functions may vary in a contin-uous range, from indispensable activities to actions which have little relation to the community work, the categories of "regulated" and "optional" are simply in-adequate to divide the day. Endless discussions about the precise limits of regulations indicate that the ques-tion of task has not yet been resolved. Formation must begin and end with mission, a selec-tion and a confiding of tasks, an education of people to the realities of these tasks that evokes their love for the good to be accomplished through these tasks. Trying to educate people to self-direction without at the same time giving them tasks will always tend to a loss of self-giving. Educating people to love and know tasks, allowing the tasks to draw people will inevitably result in a develop-ment of responsibility and self-confidence. The dynamism of task is the only atmosphere conducive to human autonomy. ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, S.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 20 JOSEPH FICHTNER, O.S.C. Religious Life in a Secularized.Age Vatican Council II, in its decree on The Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life, analyzed our renewal as a twofold process and laid down two generic principles for the pursuit of that renewal.1 The first principle takes us historically backward, the second forward. The first principle is a continuous return to the gospel of Christ as a basic norm of the religious life, and the second is an adjustment or adaptation to the physical, psychological, cultural, social, and economic conditions of our day. But at this point already one should ask the question: Is not religious life caught in a false dilemma when it at-tempts to return and renew itself at one and the same time? 2 How can it move backward and forward simul-taneously? Is it possible for religious to draw their in-spiration from the gospel as well as adjust themselves within the context of a secularized age? The decree underscores the return to the gospel ideal first of all; this is why a concerted and communal effort is to be made to catch anew the gospel inspiration as a rule of life and conduct. Yet the gospel presents reli-gious with no stereotype of their life that is always and everywhere valid and that they can turn to when-ever they find themselves in religious straits. In order to re-evangelize we have to ask questions of the Bible out of our own concrete, contemporary life, because the religious life experience of 1969 presents us with prob-lems. The problems are compounded because we have till now developed only the embryo of a new style of life which shows very indistinct features of further growth. XN. 2. "E. Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld in conflict met her religieuze leven," Ti]dschri]t voor theologie, v. 7 (1967), pp. 1-27. I have followed to a large extent the development of ideas in this article. See also Soeur Guillemin, "Renovation de l'espHt et des structures," Vie consacrde, v. 38 (1966), pp. 360-73; she covers much of the same ground from a more practical point of view. Joseph Fichtner, O.S.C., is a faculty member of Crosier House of Studies at 2620 East Wallen Roadi Fort Wayne, Indiana 46805. VOI'UME 28, 1969 - ~oseph Fichtner, O~.C. REVIEW F.OR.RELIGIOUS We are asking questions, therefore, which the past Christian generations could not have asked since they did not live in a secularized age. The gospel cannot reply to questions not put to it; nor does it await questions from us which were already put to it by generations past.,'It is inconceivable that we should inquire .intb the Sc'riptures from the same van-tage point, say, as Sts. Jerome and Augustine had to do for .their respective communities whose members did not take vows but simply pledged themselves to persevere in their religious purpose. The medieval monks interpreted the Bible in a much different way than we can, and they tended to encapsulate the religious life into a profession of the three vows, a notion retained by canon law in its definition of the religious state.3 The former tendency was to regard the religious experience as a form more or less of flight 'from the world, of self-denial; renunciation, the exclusive service of God. We must strenuously reject the identification of the evangelical community life with the fo~ms it has taken in a given period and locale. Perhaps~- though you will have to judge this for yourselves--the change with the times and places is harder for the woman religious because of her naturally (and in other respects advantageously) conservative spirit. The past.historical ~onception of religious life hardly coincides with the demands made upon'human life by a secularized society.4 If we are to research the gospel for goals and guides to present,day religious .life, then we will have to approach it with an open mind, not with the m~ntality of our forebears, founders or foundresses, most of whom lived in a pretechni.cal, preindustrial, pre-democratic age. We may e~,en, have to rephrase our. ques-tions once. we listen to the cadences of God's word. The gospel may. echo. to us the question whether we have been tuned in to the secularization process critically, whether our life context offers any guarantee of human values. The times we live in, with their alternate possibilities of. good~, and evil, do not simply call for an unqualified adaptation. .-Hence what the decree aims atis that religious.evaluate their world in the light of the gospel. Some kind of eval-uation has already.been done for the Church at large in the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World; here the world is seen from a threefold view-point-- as created, as fallen and sinful, and as loved and redeemed.5 Religious life itself has to be reinterpreted 8 C. 487. ' ]. Bonnefoy, A.A., "Presence au monde ~an.s une vie religieuse," Vie consacr~e, v. 39 (1967), pp. 353-67. ; . ~ 8 E. Pin, $.J., "Les insfituts religieux apostoliques et le ~hang~- ment ~ocio-cultuel," Nouvelle revue thgologique, v. 87 .(1965), pp. 395-411. by means of a confrontation between the two, gospel and world. Without such a confrontation, the attempt either to re-evangelize or to adapt is empty and meaning-less; it is sold short by too much evangelization on the one hand and too much humanization on the other. The only way to arrive at a confrontation of the two is to examine human experience today in the light of the gospel and to understand the gospel from the viewpoint of contemporary human experience. Man today looks upon the natural world as the raw material out of which he can create his own world. The supremacy he feels over the things of the world is chang-ing his view of himself too as part of this world. Through his own scientific work he finds himself able to live a more human life; by humanizing the world round about himself he is discovering more human values. One of the values that he has freshly uncovered and that have prompted him to make the world more hu-manly livable is his freedom. Freely and creatively he would carve out of the world a home where the human community can exist in justice and love. He is filled with an indomitable desire to build a better world where men can live together in the solidarity of justice and love. But the humanization of the world by means of science and technology has also created, by way of a byproduct, the danger for man to render this world uninhabitable. The Great Society has been so organized by man that it has well nigh done away with other human opportunities such as the contemplative side of life offers him. He is forced almost to flee from the world in order to have the time and place for that contemplation which does not only regard the things of God but respects the dignity otr his fellowmen. Man risks the danger of treating his fellowmen as things and of overpowering them, of using and abusing them as he would the things of nature. If he loses his respect for his fellowman, he is liable to manip-ulate him, exploit him, and usurp his rights to human achievement.6 Of all the human qualities young people wish for themselves and expect of others the most out-standing are personal right, authenticity, trust, under-standing, loyalty, and honesty. They reject any and every sort of depersonalization. Man can so dominate the world socially, economically, and politically, that he runs roughshod over his fellowman. So the same scientific and technological progress can be both a boon and a threat to a more human existence, depending upon the use to which man puts it for his fellowman. The whoIe secuIarization process that has fallen into human hands has affected man's stance toward religion, 6S6eur Marie-Edmond, "Qu'attendent les jeunes filles de la vie rcligicuse communautairc?" Vie consacrde, v. 39 (1967), pp. 40-50. + Religious LiIe, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 23 ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtn~r, 0~.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS though primarily it is a social event that of itself need not lead to any irreligiosity. It does, however, set man upon the pinnacle of the temple of this world; it puts him into a relationship with the world which he never yet experienced. This change of relationship and his own understanding of it is bound to alter his view of God. While formerly the Church was the means of bringing his attention to God as He operated in nature, history, and society, now that man has asserted his creative power over the world, he has at the same time contrib-uted to its desacralization. God would seem to be left out; man comes to the fore. As a result the conclusion we can easily reach is that secularization and desacralization are pagan, heathen, or anti-religious. But the fact of the matter is that this proc-ess has both Christian and non-Christian elements and hence cannot be accept.ed unqualifiedly or uncritically. If anything shakes the younger generation, it is their fear for the destiny of a world so insecure in its secular struc-tures. To give the secularized world its due, we must ac-knowledge it with faith as God's creation to which he gave an autonomy and secularity. Our belief in His act of creation implies that the world be left wholly other than God---creaturely, human, worldly. 0nly if we recog-nize the world for what it is can we catch some insight into who God is, as Someone unworldly, transcendent, uncreated. The more we tend to sacralize the world, the less transcendence do we attribute to God and the less likely are we to worship Him alone. Acceptance of the world and everything worldly from a divine point of view means setting the world free for man; to secularize it is to allow it freedom, a created autonomy. In a sense, then, the secularization process follows from Christianity itself as a consequence of its refusal to commingle, confuse, or fuse God with the world. Chris-tianity has no intention of divinizing or Christianizing or baptizing the world from within, but rather of keeping the world humanized through the retention of its essen-tially human values. Christian secularity is precisely this, that Christians in a spirit of faith discern the dif-ference between the concrete Christian and the pagan elements which make up the world and allow it to be itself. Grace makes it possible for Christians to prepare for Christianization, that is, to secularize and humanize the world by means of a faith outlook. The Gospel does not sterilize the heart of man, emptying it of an appre-ciation of all earthly and human values; rather it opens to him the same full human perspective which Christ had in assuming and recapitulating humanity. Sin alone dims or eclipses the possibility of that perspective. This is the kind of world, its history and culture, in which we must situate the religious life, and this is the same world in which we can ask the appropriate ques-tions of the gospel for the inspiration of the religious life experience. A false understanding of the world will in-evitably lead to a series of false questions. It will incline the religious to view nature, the world, man, negatively, and argue for a flight from the world. The old concept of God.has undergone a change along with the old concept of the world. But the death-of-God theology has evidently failed to come up with a new con-cept of God. In the. past Christianity was always con-vinced that God is inaccessible and ineffable. Faced with the radical inability to express themselves about God or present him to their fellow Christians, theologians and mystics resorted to an apophatic or negative theol-ogy. They admitted to knowing less about who God is not than about who He is. Oftentimes God was popularly conceived as one who intervened in the world; such repre-sentations of Him in the ordinary theological manuals reflected the social and cultural milieu. The experience of faith in God was colored by the social and cultural context necessarily, but 'this did not render it less authen-tic than the experience of faith in our own cultural situation. 'If our era is less sure of and less concrete in its con-cepts of God, it is because we have turned God into a big question mark and into a popular conversation piece. Perhaps there has been more conversation about Him since his "death" than there ever was while He was still considered "alive." We would like to unmask all the former illusions about God and do away with all the pseudo-gods of the past, but in getting rid of all such idols we have not clarified or facilitated the making of God in our own image. By raising the problem of God in our own day, we are likely to forget our own human condition which threatens to falsify the truth about God. In searching for Him we run the risk of creating other idols .than those we just finished demolishing. One of our approaches to God which hides some of His reality for us and which we may be guilty of in the religious life is to think that we can dedicate our-selves to him directly and exclusively. This approach may be devoid of any real, concrete content, a sort of chase into empty space, a flight after some utopian ideal. The only way remaining for us to express ourselves about Him has to derive from our experience within this world and within this era of salvation history. God speaks to us through men, their world and history; this is the hearing aid by which we can listen to His voice. There r.eally is no opposition between God's word in Holy 4- Religious Lile, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph Fi~htner, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Scripture and the authentic religious life experience of today, for the Scriptures provide us the norm whereby we can be faithful listeners to His word as it appeals to us in today's life experience. The latter feeds our under-standing of God, concretizes it, and gives content to our belief in God. To overlook this fact is to retrace our steps to the days when Christians felt it their duty to separate or alienate themselves from the world. We have no criticism to offer of their religious posture, be-cause it had meaning for them, but it leaves us without a real living God. Today we have the idea that to try to approach God directly and exclusively, without any worldly and human medium, is an unchristian illusion. We are inclined, if not theoretically then practically,, to distinguish between a Christian and a pagan secularity. We believe we come in contact with the living God in and through and with our fellowmen. This does not mean that as Christians we do not respond to God immediately and personally, but that our relationship with Him is real and concrete be-cause mediated through worldly and human realities. Christ experienced the immediacy of God's presence in Himself, in and through His humanity. He willed to be-come God in human form. In like manner we encounter God in the immediacy and mediacy of that image and likeness of Him which is man. What is immediate and what is mediate are not mutually exclusive but are linked together in our relationship to God. Against this modern background the religious life must examine the Scriptures to seek the solutions for the problems facing it. Sacred Scripture contains a number of evangelical counsels that simply are irreducible to the three classic vows the medieval monks or nuns pronounced. In fact, the gospel refers to only one counsel,7 one which was not expressly imposed or urged upon the early Christians.s It teaches that the perfection of love is attainable by all Christians, whatever their state of life, without their having to keep the counsel of celibacy.'° All Christians are called to an observance of the commandments and the other evangelical counsels in order to attain the per-fection of love. The one counsel alone is left to the free choice of every Christian and is the evangelical source from which the religious life has grown. Essen-tially, therefore, the religious life is a freely willed Chris-tian celibate life. This life is lived mostly in a community because few people freely will to live it in solitude.~0 7 Mt 19:10-2. s 1 Cor 7:25. ~ 1 Cor 13. ao Soeur Marie-Edmond, "Qu-attendcnt les jeunes filles?" The personal choice of this style of life is motivated by the gospel and makes sense fo~ alifetime only in virtue of the same~ The force of this motive is borne upon those young people who because of the instability and.change-ability of our age fear giving themselves to any style of life demanding continuity and stability. One who is will-ing to spend his entire life ~s a Christian celibate does.so because he is sensitive to the grace of 'God .cifll'ing. him in thegospel. He feels himself responsible to" God-who so strongly affects him that He becomes the source"of his religious life. But ~he particular form or structure of the religious life inspired by the gospel is ~as such a human project and a human construct. The whole human side of this life has developed in the course of history and is bound up with its vicissitudes. It,has t6 face the challenge of changing customs and cultures in older to survive arid renew itself. .We misunderstand the gospel message if.we base bur choice of a celibate life on a gupernatural motive alon~, as if we conceive the delibate life as a ctfoice between the natural good of marriage and .the supernatural good.of celibacy.11 Dedication of a celibat~ life to God has both immediate and mediate aspects about it, just a~ marriage itself. A couple united in Christian man'iage have an immediate duty toward God though they may mediate their love for Him through each other and thdy mayex-periefice tension and conflict in a way similar to what religious feel when they try to mediate their love for God through the world' and their fellowmen. The reli-gious life therefore has no immediate relationship to God without a worldly and human mediacy. Sometimes the immediacy of the religious life is more apparent, .'for instance, when religious live and work in community~ pray, celebrate the liturgy; at other times, in the apos-tolate, the mediacy of such a life comes into starker relief. Christian ~elibacy has also a human meaning, a natural value aside from its supernatural value, for otherwise, no matter how religiously or supernaturall~? motivated it is, it will somehow be left hanging in the air. Essen-tially it does not consist in a.chgice between God and 'a life partner; rather it is a positive choice of aw~y k)f life having natural and human meaning for those who have the iniier ability to embrace, it. Their choice, when you analyze it thoroughly, does not come down to one be-tween God and creature or between God and the world of man, but it is one which springs from the wholenes~ of his being. Celibacy of its nature permits the celibate to concen- ~ Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld," p. 12. 4- +- +. Religious Ei~e, - Seculhri~ed Age VOL'U~E 2~, 4" 4" 4" Joseph FichOtn.Se.rC, . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS trate upon a certain life value and to dedicate to it his entire life. He freely accepts celibacy because he is con-vinced this is the only way, special as it may be, for him to be totally expendable. The value he has discovered within himself so fascinates him that he is willing to remain unmarried to achieve it; he places himself at its service; he considers it a part of an authentic life. Christian celibacy, moreover, adds to the natural value a religious, charismatic value, especially if men and women would concentrate their whole life upon its value because they would be witnesses to the world of their conviction. Within the Church their witness to the value of celibacy is a more easily and understood sign. It is seen to be a means some men and women take for the sake of the kingdom of God. Religious give to the world an irreplaceable witness of a supratemporal element alive and at work in it. In a sense they transcend history, manifesting a supernatural value and significance--point-ers to a life beyond the present. The better they can serve mankind in this way of life, the better they are able to serve the God who founded His kingdom among men. Religious men and women will show to the world the. authenticity of their life only if they commit them-selves totally to it, convinced that their expendability makes their style of life worthwhile. Others may sacrifice marriage for the sake of a tem-poral career--scientific, social, political, cultural; but Christian celibacy on the contrary entails sacrifice for the sake of a religious value. In both instances there is a sacrifice of a human value, but in the latter a trans-cendence of the religious self becomes evident. The sacrifice points to a transcendence--men and women are willing to give up marriage not for some secular good but because they want to give evidence of the religious dimension of life.x2 The religious sign value of celibacy too easily fades out or is lost among those who engage solely in a secular career, good and beneficial to society as it may be. More than ever in the past religious must be a sign of the transcendence of God in the midst of a secularized world, even when at times this sign may appear to be nothing else than a protest against a world gone pagan. They give eschatological witness of a life that overcomes the temporality of this worldAa Christian celibacy has essentially a close affinity to the other evangelical counsels, poverty and obedience, in that they too contain positive human and religious values. Heretofore the general tendency has been to re-gard the counsels or vows too negatively and isolatedly. = Karl Rahner, "Reflections on the Theology of Renunciation," Theological Investigations, v. 3, pp. 47-57. 18 Lk 20:34-7. When a problem arises, we are prone to isolate it and to forget it may have far-reaching and entangled roots (the race problem provides a good example in those who advocate job opportunity for a cure-all). Perhaps we lose sight of that unity of purpose which brings all counsels together--the following of Christ in His kenotic life; and especially the unity of the person living a trinity of counsels. Like Christian celibacy, poverty and obedience are questionable because in our time and culture they seem to lack any positive value. Today's trend is to stress the need of getting rid of poverty and of accentuating free-dom, and thus to outdate them. The question then arises how are we religious to retain the positive, human values of the two at a time when they are considered caricatures or illusions of reality. For example, how are we to evaluate poverty in a society characterized by mass production, mass consumption, white-collar work, a so-ciety preferring to poverty a prosperity that promotes health, welfare, and education programs, and leisure? Religious poverty makes sense only if it is in keeping with the real poverty existing among peoples today. Its inherent demand is that we live on a similar basis with the poor and at the same time, precisely because we have pledged ourselves to be poor, join in the effort to better the lot of the poor. Religious poverty must square with the economical situation of society and must take into account the level or standard of living. Young reli-gious are filled with a sense of sha~'ing rather than econ-omizing (as formerly) material, intellectual, and cultural goods--a spirit more current with the times. A balance has to be struck between the means and the end of the religious institute which, in any case, will require a special moderation in food, clothing, recreation, and a determination to earn a communal living by hard work. In addition, various kinds of social work performed by religious may lend themselves to social progress. Religious community life can no longer model its authority upon the medieval feudal system. Religious authority that appeals for obedience in the name of God's will is old-fashioned; it dates back to that old era of the divine right of kings. It leads to a confused idea that superiors must reign and their opinion must prevail under the pretext of deriving their authority from God. On the other hand, wherever like-minded people are ¯ gathered into a community, however much they may be motivated by love, they will still have to hold to the inte-grating factors of authority and obedience. Faithful re-ligious do oblige themselves to observe the will of God. Such a spirit of obedience is all the more sensible when Religious Li]e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ~9 ÷ ,÷ ÷ Joseph FicOht~n.Cer., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯30 it believes God speaks His will not only through the superior but within a life situation, within a community living together with love, friendship, dialogue, for the common good, and from within one's Own conscience. This type of obedience is not a blind following of the .superior's will rather arbitrarily determined or unex-plained, nor the keeping of meaningless, minute, mean commands, a routinized life without any commands at all, a perfunctory performance of duty without any pro-fessional competence, but an open-eyed observance of God's will as it is made known within an entire life situa-tion. The American practice of obedience functions best in an equalitarian atmosphere; Americans will not tol-erate supremacists in their midst; they are. used to bu-reaucratic (in the good sense of the word), consultative government. The religious life then consists not first and foremost in a negation, the exclusion of positive human and religious values, but in a special Christian, meaningful way of life. This life does entail the sacrifice of such values as wealth, marriage, independence which most Christians freely choose and cordially treasure. By the mere mention of the words "sacrifice" or "renunciation, we are likely to turn off people who think such practices .dwarf the human personality or stifle its spirit.14 Renun-ciations, however, are emphatically no evasion or escape f.r.om the world. The paradoxical fact about them is that they detach us to some degree from the world so as to allow fuller involvement in other ways.15 Religious do not directly choose to sacrifice earthly and human values, but they do choose a Christian way of life full of other and superior values accepted in a spirit of faith, hope, and love. Tertullian once re-marked: "Every choice implies a rejection." ~0 In choos-ing a kenotic way of lift Christ did not sacrifice human values m~rely for the sake of supernatural values; His prefere, nce was for a way of life out of various, meaning-ful messianic possibilities. Among other things His was a predilection for a celibate life because it left him free to establish the kingdom of His Father.17 Religious likewise are inclined toward a style of life which does not drive them from the world but enables them to orient their life, energy, and competence toward the world's future. Theirwhole thrust is to take the world with them to God, and this is the reason for their willingness to accept sacrifice or renunciation along with that a4 Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, n. 41; Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, n. 46. ~ K. Rahner, "Reflections." 16 Apology, 13, 2. ~"~ Lk 9:23. faithful and unconditional service they would give to God and their fellowmen. The loving service they offer concretizes that self-emptying which contradicts an egotistic spirit. The love they dedicate to God and to the world of men expressly calls for self-criticism, sacrifice, and self-emptying. If there is any emerging feature of the new-style religious life it is the conviction of its' mem-bers that they have to be present in and open to the world. The fact that the religious life is a matter of lifelong choice makes it difficult for people of our times to recog-nize its value and meaning. They are quite well con-vinced, and rightly so, that man is so built as to be un-able to appreciate the unknown dimensions of a human act binding him for a lifetime. Human psychology is so complex that for one to make such a binding decision wonld oftentimes be irresponsible, lighthearted, an act tmcharacteristic of the human will. This attitude is exemplified not only in the modern outlook upon the religious life but upon marriage too. Can man morally commit himself to an obligation that, humanly speak-ing, seems to be contradictory to his very nature? No matter how free and knowledgeable his act may be today, he cannot foresee tomorrow--he may react differently to his choice once he is put into hard circumstances where he is likely to experience his failings. To validate and give meaning to his decision, his only alternative is to entrust himself to Christian hope. That this modern mentality has a glint of truth about it, there can be no doubt. But there are values which for the moment we cannot, certainly not [ully, appreciate or approve, which nonetheless surpass the momentary situation and are imperative for the integrity of man. They have an enduring value; they hold good in any and every situation (with some exceptions) which man has to abide by if he is to be true to his own nature. In the matter of the counsels and their public pro-fession, the vows, we are dealing with a choice that in the first place is not ethically binding, it is not necessary, it is not a matter of commandment. So why should anyone be obligated to keep his choice for a lifetime if he has freely willed it in the first place? Man has an intrinsic right to freely change his mind, to decide tomorrow against his decision today. But this human vacillation is obviously giving the world much trouble. The value of following the counsels for a lifetime lies not in a freedom of choice alone but in the free and faithful acceptance of a way of life. It evidences how a religious finds it pos-sible and meaningful to dedicate himself for life despite his failings and mistakes; he accepts a lifetime of service. Fidelity too, and not only freedom, is a basic human + Religious Lile Secularized VOLUME 28, 1969 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS quality, .substantiated by both the nature of man and his history. The will-to-fidelity must have meaning therefore; it is not a mere will-o'-the-wisp; it is the expression of the human self once and for always. Despite the fact that man can point to the vicissitudes of history and to the uncertainty of the future, that he can personally leave himself open to various possibilities for the sake of ex-periment, to see how he reacts to them in the process of maturing, still his human limitations tell him that he cannot experiment or vacillate in his decisions forever. His human limitations force him to make that decision to which he can devote the totality of his life. This is what psychologists have called the "fundamental op-tion," which has its correlative reality in a fidelity to grace and is motivated by a single love, the following of Christ. The fidelity, and integrity of a life of the counsels springs from our efforts, gradual and constant, to per-sonalize them, unify them, liberate ourselves thereby from the selfish impulses which may dominate our lives. Fidelity and integrity are ours to the extent that the counsels permeate us; taken together they add up to a complete style of life. I dare say one reason for religious discontent stems from the failure to bring the three counsels within the focus of the one fundamental option. The saying, "Divide and conquer," applies here: the more divided and disrupted a life, the greater the loss of personal energy and the less resistance to difficulties.18 To be a full man is to be faithful to the true self. It is by totally giving that each of us becomes totally him-self. The full Christian is one who gives a faithful re-sponse to that divine fidelity which never fails him unless he proves faithless to himself. The basic human reason for the inviolability of the religious life is the fundamental option, and not the pub-lic vow from which the religious can be dispensed. The religious who opts for the celibate life is a living em-bodiment of the counsels, particularly celibacy; they do not exist in the abstract or in vows or in constitutions. In making a lifelong choice man wants to be true to himself and thus to bind himself in the service of a basic value. This value is an enrichment to both the religious him-self and to his community. The value, as it were, me-diates between the person and the community, recip-rocally helping the person to serve the community and the community to respect and draw benefit from the per-son by warding off some risks of instability. In its wider scope, the value of a religious community extends to the unlimited horizons of the Church and society. When See Summa theologiae, 2-2, q.44, a.4, ad 3. a person publicly announces his fundamental option to live a celibate life in a religious community, he makes an appeal to the community to help him be a full man and a full Christian. He is helped negatively when the com-munity does not interfere with or hinder the realization of his fundamental option--the development of his personality under grace; he is helped positively when the community has a concern and care for his life ful-fillment. The binding force of a vow is derived immediately from the option one makes of God but mediately from the religious community and the Church in which the religious pronounces his vow. The religious .vow has a quality of reciprocity between the religious himself and the community of his profession. Between the two there exists a sort of two-way street of right and responsibility. In our sociotechnic world there still is much need of the other-directed spirit, of teamwork and a measure of con-formity and mutual respect to obtain the same goals. The religious cannot oblige the community onesidedly, nor can the community willfully or lightly discharge its duty toward the religious. Just as the religious can prove unfaithful to his community, so can the community fail the religious particularly if it does not renew or up-date itself. The human and Christian quintessence of the reli-gious life consists of a special concentration upon a lifelong value by means of a freely willed Christian celibacy. Whatever is added to this quintessence is of human creation and consequently is historically con-ditioned. The evangelical inspiration is subsumed into a variety of concrete forms and structures and institu-tionalisations, all of which are bound up with historical experiences and cultural patterns. None of them has eter-nal value, not even the form(s) the founder or foundress gave to the gospel message. Whenever the evangelical inspiration is found wrapped in a new life experience, its particular value can be questioned and criticized by the psychologist, sociologist, economist, hygienist, anthro-pologist, and others interested in the practical life of man. They compel us to rethink the religious life as it is time-honored and -bound in our constitutions. It is a fatal mistake to identify the latter with the gospel in-spiration. The Council fathers of Vatican II were not unmindful of the fact that religious institutes periodically revise their constitutions in order to adapt themselves to time and place. Surely in calling for a radical overhauling of the religious life they were thinking of the social and cultural revolution we are passing through, when slight and detailed changes and modifications are not enough. + + + Religious Li~e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 33 + ÷ Joseph Fichtner, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS There is much room for consolidating, deepening, and trimming. The crisis we face is deeper and graver than we know; it is clearly evidenced by the revolutionized concept of man and God in our secularized age. If the religious institute as we know it is to survive, we must make a heroic effort to restructure and revitalize it. It does not need a heart transplant, but it will need a series of blood transfusions. Needless to say, the religious institute that cannot or will not adapt will sing its own requiem. The gospel inspiration of the religious life offers no guarantee that the various traditional forms or structures have to endure forever. A religious institute may well have served its purpose and should go out of existence or coalesce with a more viable group. The life experience today is so new, so revolutionalized, so secularized, that in a sense all re-ligious institutes can be considered old which do not reinterpret the gospel in the light of the new life situa-tion. We have to bear a crisis so severe that only a radical restructuring of the religions institute will tide it over: This restructuring has to be more than an offscouring of antiquated practices, making our life easier or more sociable. It has to arise from a thorough re-evangelisation which asks questions of itself and of life as religious live it in a secularized society. Nobody can accomplish this tremendous task but the community itself, and especially its young members who are not baffled by the new life experience becat~se they have been born and raised in it. But one can hardly insist enough upon the duty of the entire community, young and old members, to enter into the restructuring phase. This is not a task divided between the young members pushing ahead with a crea-tive spirit and the old upholding the canons of ortho-doxy. Both have to be patient and indulgent. Nor is it a summoning of an endless series of meetings and discus-sions where members reflect upon their life, haggle back and forth over community life, the apostolate, the struc-tnre of authority, and what have you, yet in the mean-while make no effort at experimentation with new forms and are fearful of groping toward a reincarnation of the religious life. Who does not feel stymied by an inconsist-ency between thought and action, plan and life? Given plenty of room for experimentation, for pilot projects, not necessarily in every monastery or convent but here and there where local needs require it and the proper authorities are willing to assume the ultimate responsi-bility, where everybody enters enthusiastically and not merely tolerantly into the experimentations, thus mani-festing their loyalty to the institute, the religious life will blossom out anew, perhaps in an unsuspected way-- at least under the mysterious, unforeseeable guidance of the Holy Spirit. ANDRI~E EMERY Experiment in Counseling Religious When* I began working at the Hacker Psychiatric Clinic in 1961---on the staff of which I am the only Catholic, unless I count one doctor, who although baptized Catholic does not consider himself a member of the Church--the general opinion of the staff would have paralleled the oft-quoted but not sufficiently validated statement that many more religious than lay persons were mentally ill. At that time they thought, I guess, that most if not all religious must be at least a little crazy.~ In the past seven years the climate of opinion in our clinic has changed, not as a result of apologetic dialogu-ing but through every day, pragmatic experience. Today, if one were to ask our staff for an opinion, they would probably say that the problems of religious were rather similar to those of lay people but that on the whole the religious seemed to be more insightful, more intelligent, and more motivated toward resolving their problems. O£ course, except for the very ill, who constituted merely a fraction of our religious clientele, intelligence and moti-vation could be presupposed; otherwise they would not have asked for psychiatric help. The Hacker Clinic is not a subsidized agency but a private clinic with some 20 professionals on the staff, most of them psychiatrists (M.D.'s). Because of its private character, patients who seek help there are mostly middle-class, financially independent or well insured, and thus comparable to the well-educated and, sup-posedly, well-socialized religious. In the past three and one half years 156 religious--73 men and 83 women-- and 6 diocesan priests were seen in our clinic. I, personally, spent more than 3500 hours interviewing these men and women. Since each person * This is the text of a talk given on August 8, 1968, at the Ameri-can Canon Law Society's Workshop on Renewal at Notre Dame, Indiana. 4- Andr~e Emery, area director of the Society of Our Lady of the Way, is a sociologist and clinical counselor residing at 127 South Arden Boule-vard; Los Angeles, California 90004. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ admitted to our clinic undergoes a full evaluation, which includes testing and psychiatric consultation and in-volves interviews with at least three different profession-als, and since some religious were seen in therapy not by me but by other members of our staff, the total hours spent by our clinic with religious and priests could easily be three or four times this number. I did not include in my 3500 hours time spent in workshops, conferences, seminars, personal interviews during educational ven-tures, nor time spent evaluating aspirants before they were accepted into a community. Thus the 3500 hours, and some, were devoted entirely to direct clinical inter-views, either for evaluation or for therapy. The 156 religious seen in the past three and one half years--118 of whom were finally professed--represent 34 communities. Of the finally professed 66 were religious sisters, 5 were religious priests, 31 were major seminar-ians, 14 were teaching brothers, and two were members of a secular institute of men. One religious priest was on leave of absence, one woman religious was exclaustrated, and three were dispensed from perpetual vows shortly before coming to the clinic. Of the remaining 38 religi-ous, 21 had temporary vows--5 men and 16 women-- and 17 were novices, of whom 14 were men. Only about 10 per cent of these patients were diag-nosed psychotic and approximately another 10 per cent as severely neurotic. The majority merely had problems, probably not very different from those who did not seek our help. The median age of all religious men and women and diocesan priests whom we saw was 28 years. The median age of the men was somewhat lower than this figure, be-cause of the relatively large number of seminarians and novices among them, and that of the women was some-what higher. Only 19 per cent of the women and 8 per cent of the men were over 40 years of age. The services rendered by the clinic varied. 78, fewer than half of the total, were simply evaluated by us. Of these we recommended therapy or counseling for 37, but to our knowledge only in ten instances was our recom-mendation followed. The other 27 did not receive the recommended help. At present, there are 10 men and 10 women religious in therapy in our clinic, 7 of them for less than a year, 13 for more than a year, and there were 64 others in therapy who are no longer coming. 22 hospital patients were visited daily; the majority who were outpatients were seen once or twice a week, and a few follow-up cases were seen once a month. All were seen in individual therapy, but 15 were also in group therapy. Priests and brothers attended group sessions with lay men, the sisters had their own group. 86, or more than half of all the religious and priests seen by us in the past three and one half years, told us that they wished to leave the religious or priestly life. Had we had longer contact with those whom we have merely evaluated, the number might have been even larger. We did not ask them directly about this and not all volunteered unasked-for information in the first in-terview. Exactly half of those who mentioned leaving did leave, most of them shortly after evaluation and without hav-ing been given an opportunity for further counseling-- or perhaps not desiring it. Ten who were in therapy in our clinic left their communities after therapy was in-terrupted against their wishes or against our recommen-dation. Of the 74 whose therapy with us was not interrupted, only four left--three during therapy and one after mu-tually agreed termination of therapy. These figures speak for themselves: problems can and should be solved rather than run from. After listening carefully to a relatively large number of religious men and women, I asked myself the ques-tion: Are their problems similar or different from those that weigh down our other patients? We cannot separate our personal growth and our in-dividual crises from the historical development and con-temporary crises of the group with which we are identi-fied. There is no human being who is free from the influence of the society into which he was born and in which he has been raised. While we sift perceptions and experiences through our personal physical and psycho-logical apparatus that is very particularly our own and give them special emphasis and slant, our apperceptions, our symbols, our values, our conflicts, our likes and dis-likes, the very traits that we think of as most personal, most expressive of our individuality, are suprapersonal. They are consensual with the culture in which we are rooted; at least they must be such if we are to be con-sidered "normal" and not "odd" by our contemporaries. This was brought home to us rather early in our ex-perience with religious patients. At that time some of our non-Catholic staff still expected to find intolerable conditions triggering if not causing the acute problems of religious. (Off the record, I have seen conditions in religious houses of men which I, or most any woman, religious or lay, could not have tolerated, and I am sure that some men, in turn, would feel the same way about our houses.) But to come back to the clinic: Not more than half a dozen of our religious patients described without corn-÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 37 4. Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 38 plaint, external circumstances in their convents that seemed intolerable to us. The remarkable thing was that. the communities from which they came were all foreign in their origin and rule and also in their membership. The conditions described would have seemed intolerable to most American religious, too; yet the religious who lived under these conditions, including our foreign-born patients, did not find it particularly intolerable. And so we had to face the fact that our judgment of what was tolerable or intolerable was made from' the point of view of national culture, which was the same for American doctors as for American religious from active congrega-tions. Taking this basic dependency on the culture group for granted, we cannot be astonished that many of the basic problems of religious men and women in the United States do not seem to differ greatly from those of other American men and women. The growth of Western civilization, together with its stratification and specialization, has created models of shifting, sectional, and contradictory prototypes, from Ronald Reagan to Martin Luther King Go Malcolm X. Ours is a mobile society, multi-valued, materialistic, outer directed, as the sociologist would say, easily brain-washed by mass media, advertisements, fads, and. ffish-ions. It is peer-group oriented rather than hierarchical and, at present, is plagued by rebellions, which while not necessarily more violent than those of the past are cer-tainly more ubiquitous. Change and not stability is the epitome of this kind of society even in human relationships, as the steadily in-creasing divorce rate dramatically shows. That time, and thus change, is a human dimension was already recog-nized by Heraclitus 2500 years ago. But the rate of change is not constant; some structures change slower than others; and there are periods when the same entity, be it matter, living being, or human society, slows down or accelerates. The period in human life when change is most evident is adolescence. Yet Erikson, who is perhaps the best known psychologist of this country, calls this period "moratorium"--delay of adulthood, which the young person needs to integrate earlier childhood experiences and to learn to conform to the larger society which will soon replace his immediate family environment. In our Western world--and, particularly in the United States which is considered the apex of it--this morato-rium on adulthood has become extended far beyond the period of physical and sexual maturation and," thus, adolescent problems he.avily "interlace and aggravate the problems that young adults, as a matter of course, must face. It is not that our young who marry or enter religion are much younger in age than were those in former generations, but their readiness to assume adult respon-sibilities, particularly continuing responsibilities, seems to be less. Young and not-so-young religious who were born and nurtured in our culture are no less exempt from this extended moratorium and its consequences than are their married counterparts. Is it really--as we often hear---~the hierarchical struc-ture of religious communities that keeps religious im-mature? More immature than their lay counterparts? We did not find religious more immature or more frequently immature. But, obviously, those who did not wish to assume responsibility, for whatever reason, had a better excuse, a ready-made rationalization. Still, the child wife, the happy-go-lucky husband are not rarities either. The impulsive adolescent who marries or enters religion, having "fallen in love," will back out quickly, and this will be less traumatic for the religious than for the married. But those who cling to the idealized image con-structed by their immature motivations and resist facing reality---even a reality not inferior to their fantasy, just different--will experience severe crises, in marriage or religious life alike--one, two, five, ten years after their initial commitment. The fantasy wears away bit by bit, leaving them numb, empty, and somehow feeling cheated. I was told with great feeling by a 25-year-old mother of four that she had just discovered that she was not a teen-ager any more but "mommy" and that she did not like it a bit. As a matter of fact, she did not know whether she liked children at all. And I had to listen to a very angry, very depressed young superior of 28, who "just wanted to do a good job," but whose ambition was thwarted by the non-cooperation of several sisters, in-cluding one severely mentally ill, and who found that she could not maintain the unruffled, cooly kind exterior that earned her the early appointment to office. The pedestal broke, both under the community where "such things could happen" and under her who could not live up to the fantasy ideal. But to go a step further: Not only does our culture extend the moratorium on adulthood, it openly vaunts that adulthood is not worth aiming for. We have a cult of youth--the historical development of which, though relevant, cannot be presented here. Youth has ceased to be regarded as a transition period in which adult living is learned, in which adult identities are crystalized. It has become an aim, an identity, a subculture, emulated in some ways by the broadest segments of society. Who wants to be an adult today? (And who wants to be a + + ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 39 A~dr~e JEnt~ry REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS religious superior?) The model wears a miniskirt not only on her hips but in her (or his) head. At the same time, in strange contradiction but with unavoidable logic, we have put terrible responsibilities and burdens on young shoulders, probably more so than did any former generation. One of the main characteris-tics that differentiate human from animal life is time binding: the ability to transmit experience from one-generation to another. To demand from young people that they learn all the answers "on the go," pragmati-cally, by experimentation, to pretend that in the few years of their lives they could and should discover or duplicate the accumulated experience of mankind is sheer hypocrisy, or what is worse, delusion. The im-mature cannot become mature in human society with-out guidance. To quote Erikson: "By abdicating, by abrogating responsibility, the older generation deprives the young from forceful ideals which must exist for their sake--if only so that they can be rebelled against." Ra-tionalizing our inconsistencies and vacillations, our cow-ardice and lack of principles, with the excuse that it frees them from dependency does not help the young to grow. Is the peer society of the street gang superior to the authoritarian family still found in urban minority groups and in farming areas? If we elected (or, God forbid, appointed) only religious under 35 years of age into all offices, would that really guarantee a better gov-ernment than when we acted according to a different cultural pattern and gave the offices only to the old and supposedly "wise"? Are the younger more tolerant, do they show more empathy, more Christian virtue than the old? Or the other way around? No. The generation gap is legitimate only as an ado-lescent phenomenon--as a pause (though a very active pause) in which the young person has left childhood behind and has not yet reached adulthood. Otherwise the gap is mostly semantic: personalities clashing because they do not use the same symbols, same words, for the same concepts. Interestingly, now it is the old who are expected to learn the jargon of the young and not the other way round. I still smile when I remember a recent conference attended by some 200 people where no one was less than twice 16, and most three times that age and more, and where we had to sing Ray Repp songs during Mass--which in my opinion are both poor music and poor theology--just to show that we were "with it." To this point I have spoken only of a basic social fact--I don't like to call it problem--that affects both lay people and religious in our culture and which is at the root of many symptoms that we encounter in the clinic. There is an important facet of the present confusion that (oncerns religious and priests in particular. At a recent discussion in our clinic I was asked whether I could specify the ideal, the model of a religious--his own concept of his role or identity. I had to admit that had I been asked this question ten years ago, or even five, I would have thought it answerable--but not now. Incidentally, I have asked this same question of several major superiors and received just as vague a reply. It becomes more and more clear that the theology of religi-ous life still needs to be written. Up to the time Pope John opened the windows of the Vatican, we have had--and to some extent we still have--a subculture of religious institutes, distinct though related to othe~ subcultures of the Catholic Church. In the United States the religious subculture was colored by Irish-French, or rather 'French-Irish Ca-tholicism. This religious subculture, this cultural island, was well defined, stable, hierarchical, in contrast to the mobile, multi-valued, peer-oriented culture that sur-rounded it. It had not only a particular philosophy but also its own symbolism and language--understood only by the initiated but understood by all of them much in the same way. Because of its confidence-inspiring stability and the idealism of its teachings, it greatly appealed to many: to the searching, to the young who wanted to cut the apron strings but still needed support, to those who needed status, or those who wished to leave behind materialism, competition, and self-seeking. In a sense it was all to all: it provided security and challenge, asceticism and freedom from cares, opportunity for self-development and oppor-tunity for self-sacrifice. Or so it seemed. As we have been a nation on wheels for some time, not only the present generation of religious but at least two previous ones had to do quite a bit of adjusting to this distinctly delineated structure when they left their families of origin. Perhaps the children of foreign-born parents found it easier to adjust--perhaps not. It de-pended on how much they introjected or, conversely, rejected the values of their primary group. But whether first, second, or fourth generation of Americans, all who entered attempted to adjust to religious life as they found it. I said, attempted to adjust, because our early up-bringing cannot be completely eradicated and conflict patterns will persist. Many of our seriously ill patients were older men and women: some chronically ill with symptoms of chronic frustration in attempted adjust-ment; some acutely ill, with primary processes breaking through the surface of more or less successful controls exercised for years. Adjustment to the religious life, however, has not been 4- Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 4] ÷ ÷ ÷ A~tdr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS entirely a one-way street. Needs and values which the individual member brought from his primary culture had also an effect on the religious institutes. These slowly changed, became more American in character, sought some kind of equilibrium with the broader society around them. Still, on the whole, they remained distinctive. Thus, the young person who entered might have found it more or less ego syntonic, more or less cor-responding to his personality and early upbringing, but rarely found it completely so. The religious way of life always demanded sacrifice, self-denial, rejection of some earlier values. At the same time it offered sufficient re-wards to enable the individual to exist in it. And then, if I may say so without offending, after Vatican II we suddenly changed horses mid-stream. The point here is not whether the change was for the better or for the worse, and most of us hope and trust that it will be to the better; nor am I questioning the need, in some respects the overdue need, for change. I merely wish to underscore the unavoidable problems that arise from such a massive and headlong change. For the sake of illustration, imagine that you are a teacher, nurse, or drill-press operator and on short notice you are told that your job description and the require-ments for employment have been redefined and that the procedures as well as the rewards have been changed. Moreover, not only are the old role definitions super-seded, but you are told that you must get new directives and guidelines--except that you are not sure from whom or what. Would you not get upset? As one of my patients said: "Formerly we knew that if we got on the boat that went in the right direction and didn't get of[, we were ok. Now we are made personally responsible to get where we are going, but no one has yet thought it through how to get there." Under such circumstances it is understandable that severe conflicts develop. You will say that most of the changes were thoroughly discussed and dialogued, that they were not sudden, that opinions were polled, votes were taken. No one's good will and integrity are being questioned. But even if experiments Were discussed beforehand, did we evalu-ate them thoroughly afterwards? This conference is an attempt to do so. Just how long is it that we have been discussing them? Two years, three years, five years? If we cannot integrate complex childhood experiences during the normal years of adolescence and must extend the moratorium, just how long do you think we need to sift and integrate the huge mass of divergent opinions, rules, roles, and behavior that has been sprung on us in the recent past? A frequent consequence is panic, and not necessarily among the old timers who now have an excuse to remain passive, to leave the initiative to the young, and, if they cannot resist temptation, to sit back and criticize. It is more often the young who panic, because the responsi-bility is too great. Hence exodus of many young progres-sives. Willy-nilly, they accept re.sponsibility for them-selves, but not for the groupl And one cannot blame them; the rules of the game are equivocal and they do I . not know what will prove rewarding. When the religious role is merely a thin veneer on the .I personality, under the abrasion of uncertainties and clashes it wears off. Religio6s ,,who s'eeme,d, to be well adjusted now revert to tlaeir real selves--and since public disapproval has diminished--leave the subculture with which they were not fully identified. It is only lately that we have come to recognize that ¯ I keeping young religious isolated for long periods in the exclusive company of their peers, even for the sake advanced education, did not help them develop ~rich human qualities and did not foster community spirit. They tended to remain a sepa, rate group which out of psychological necessity had to f, ancy itself better and dif-ferent from others, inside and outside the community. The unreality was further inflated when the young sisters were assigned, strmght from school, into positions which their lay ¯counterparts ~could achieve only .after many years of hard work. We liave seen the young Ph.D. who was made a full professojr right after she received her degree leave the community when she encountered the first serious obstacle; the[ young R.N., supervisor without ever having been a rookie nurse, getting doctors, staff, and patients into turmoil land feeling "defeated for good"; the young priest, promiiing member of his order, going literally on a sit-down strike because he could not do all that he expected from hi~nself and from others. Into this group belong also t~e men and women whose delayed adolescence led to so-cAlled "late blooming" and who leave religious life because of real or purported .I sexual oroblems. In our experience, there were far fewer of .these than generally assumed, at least among the women religious. Here I must stop and quali[y~ what I have just said. In the last two months 78 case histories accumulated on my desk, of clients not seen by us in the clinic but about whom I was consulted by a non-sectarian adoption agency. These are cases of seventy-eight ex-religious, most them college graduates, many with advanced degrees, who left their convents 6 to 18 months ago and who are expecting a child out of wedlock. They are mostly in their middle thirties, and most of the fathers of the child ÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 44 to be are members of underprivileged minority groups. Not one was a victim of rape. Practically all said the same thing: our community did not change fast enough with the times; our community is not involved with the poor and underprivileged. We wanted to get dose to people in a personal apostolate (none of them were trained social workers); we wanted to live with them in the inner citymand get involved. And so they did. A few of them stated that they were advised by priests to leave the celibate life and get married. But, one of them added bitterly, they never warned her how few eligible men there were in her age bracket. Not knowing these women personally, I cannot judge how many had serious sexual problems, for which this certainly was not the answer, and how many were naively following fashions or using broadly preached but not sufficiently thought through slogans to excuse their im-mature acting out. As regards the quoted advice, it seems to be freely given to both men and women religious, as if marriage were a cure for sexual problems, to be used on prescriptionmwhich incidentally doesn't work rather than a sacrament and a responsible human relationship requiring maturity and mutual respect from the part-ners. ~Arhile some of the foregoing is a regrettable but pre-dictable reaction to stress, enhanced by a cultural incli-nation to buy what is advertised or what is in fashion, irregardless, there is an additional psychological com-ponent in the existing confusion among the religious. When a person searches for a new identity or new iden-tification, by definition he ceases to act in the role of a mature adult. He regresses to quasi-adolescence, to turmoil, indecisiveness, influencibility, impulsive acting out. We have seen this syndrome frequently in refugees and adult immigrants when they tried to adjust to their new country and its culture. The search for new mean-ing, new relevance, new identity in the religious life, whether to the better or worse, per se increases the turmoil caused by other individual and social factors. Perhaps the present quasi-adolescent upheaval of the religious is unavoidable, and hopefully it will lead us into a more and better integrated religious adulthood; but it is painful for those who go through it and more often than not embarrassing for the onlooker. Having become aware of widespread immaturity in comtemporary society and of its consequences, we are now inclined to fall into another pit. We are tempted to demand the impossible: that the girls and boys who enter our institutes, seminaries, convents, be mature. Per-haps maturity could be demanded if we would up the entrance age by some 20 years, in the hope that someone else would give the young the necessary guidance and would develop their personalities for religious life. We cannot stock novitiates and seminaries with sure bets--we have to take chances. We cannot screen out all who are immature, because if we do we abdicate as religious educators, as adults who take the responsibility for nurturing and forming the young. And certainly we should not screen out anyone on the basis of one test, given in absentia and scored by someone who never saw the applicant in person. On the other hand, we should not let young religious take perpetual vows when there is a serious question regarding their suitability. Severely neurotic persons, not to speak of psychotic or potentially psychotic ones, should not be burdened hy commitments which they will not be able to keep. But, when a professed member of a community be-comes disturbed or mentally ill, do we have a right to say that he should never have entered, that she never had a vocation, that they should be let go if at all possible? Are only the perfect seated at the banquet of the Master? Father Orsy last night said that St. Peter would not have been canonized--I don't think he would have been ac-cepted into a novitiate. Are our disturbed brothers and sisters very different from us but for being harder hit by suffering? Who is my neighbor? Only the under-privileged in the inner city? These troubled men and women in our communities are our closest neighbors. They are our poor: we have accepted them, we formed or tried to form or deform them, and we must bear their burden if we are to be called Christians. There are great differences in attitudes toward disturbed religious in their communities. Trying to get rid of them, with the shallow excuse that they never had a vocation and never should have been accepted, is injustice, even if there should be some truth in it; sending them from house to house or cramming them into the motherhouse is no answer to the problem either, and neither is the plan to live in an apartment with chosen friends the solution. When I said good-bye to the chief of our clinic, he said: "You will make a theological point, won't you? [He meant some reference to religion.] After all, you will be speaking to religiousl" I am tempted to belabor for a couple of minutes the often heard remark that no one wants to commit him-self today--which is true to a certain extent. But more often than not we found that persons, religious or lay, are desperately hungry for commitment. They want to give themselves to something or someone. They so very much want to entrust themselves to some group or indi-vidual. But they have not learned to trust because they Counseling Religious VOLUME ~'8, J.969 + ÷ Andr~e Emery REVIEW'FOR R'EL'~G IOUS ,t6 have not found anyone really trustworthy in their young years. Therefore they want and need some tangible evi-dence of appreciation, something in exchange--love or ~uccess--and they want a way out if things do not work out. Their needs are unfulfilled childhood needs; their reservations are rooted deep down in bone and marrow. The concept of commitment is not easily reconciled with such reservations--certainly not Christian commitment which must be an adult act of self-giving. I know that the saints and particularly the mystics are not "in" now, but rarely have I found a better description of the "perfec-tion of charity" (if I may use such an antiquated term) than in one of St. Catherine of Siena's mystical dialogues when she heard our Lord say." I have placed you in the midst of your fellows that you may do to them what you cannot do to me, that is to say, that you may love your neighbor of free grace without expecting any return from him. Someone asked how to tell whether a tree brought good fruit? We are too often inclined to think of success as good fruit. From where did we, Christians, get this notion anyhow? Of instant success as a must? Or even as hard-earned reward of the just? Christianity always was a losing cause, at least in the short run. Few apostles have reaped where they have sown. There was a small item in the Los Angeles morning paper the day I left home. I cut it out because of its deep significance for us. The follow-ing is an excerpt from it: The finest sermon he ever heard, said Dr. Eugene Carson Blake, was just three sentences long. It was delivered by Miss Kathleen Bliss of the Church of England, before the Central Committee of the World Council of Churches last year. In a very brief closing service we had sung the ancient hymn, "Veni Creator Spiritus". Dr. Bliss then read from the Gospel of Luke in the 4th Chapter, the account of Jesus returning to Nazareth and entering into the Synagogue and opening a book where it read, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering the sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to pro-claim the acceptable year of the Lord." ,, Then Dr. Bliss spoke her three sentences. Our hymn was a prayer in which we dared to ask for the presence and guid-ance of the Holy Spirit. We never know whether He will come or what He will do to us if He comes. I remind you that the scripture account which we have just heard goes on to tell us that Jesus' neighbors in Nazareth then tried to kill Him." .There is another variation on the success theme that is even more disturbing than the naive expectation of in-st~ int reward. In our work with religious we frequently came face to face with a man or woman, capable, tal-ented, "who was deeply angry, resentful, depressed, be-cause he or she was not omnipotent. Some wanted to change others, some wanted to change themselves, some sought external success, recognition, others the persdnal satisfaction of achievement, or, occasionally, material goods. None of them faced "this carnal reality," the limits of human existence, in themselves and outside. They wanted something and therefore it had to be. If it did not happen, they went on a "strike" or they became negative, withdrawn, maneuvering-~each according to his personality. Passive-aggressive? Not always. But what-ever the pathology or the character structure, with one's "third ear" one perceived the echo of the ancient pro~nise: And you will be like God--all knowing, all powerful. When the promise did not come true, there came forth the even more ancient answer: Non serviam. I will not serve. Familiar? Some years ago it was thought that emotionally dis-turbed and mentally ill people were often preoccupied with religion. Actually, in certain crisis periods of life, such as 5-6 years in childhood, in adolescence, in the so-called change of life, when approaching death, people become preoccupied with basic human problems: life-death, love-hate, God or the void. There is a certain logic in that people should turn to God in periods of suffering and turmoil--though sometimes this might be expressed in the form of cursing. I might have misunder-stood one of the earlier speakers, and if I did, I apolo-gize, but it seemed to me that she said that the suffering and the dying are always completely self-centered. Not always, as many concentration camp cases have shown, to mention only extreme instances. When an individual is deeply rooted in a culture that recognizes the tran-scendent, and if his childhood trust was permitted to grow into adult faith, even if he experienced shorter or longer periods of emotional fatigue (to use an euphe-mism) in high and low periods of life he will return to God. This is why I was deeply shaken by the fact that of the 161 religions and priests to whom I have listened for several thousand hours, only two, one priest and one brother, mentioned God. No matter how much I would like to shun it, how can I avoid asking the question: What tragic lack in us, Christian parents of the present generation, religious men and women, teachers, nurses, social workers, catechists, what tragic lack in us has buried God so deep that even the suffering and the troubled cannot reach Him today? Indeed, there is a need for renewal that goes far beyond adaptation. + ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 ANDREW J. WEIGERT Social Dimensions of Religious Clothing Andrew J. Wei-gert is a faculty member of the De-partment of Soci-ology and Anthro-pology at the University of Notre Dame in Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The Catholic experience as presently interpreted in America is undergoing many changes.1 In the midst of such widespread change, there may be a danger in under-valuing certain sociological dimensions of clothing in the case of the religious orders, both men and women, and to some extent for the diocesan clergy as well. The prob-lem is no doubt most pervasive in the religious orders of women. At the same time, there seems to be some un-clarity and lack of simple sociological principles to in-form the discussion and aid in the decision making. A folk adage has it that "the cowl does not make the monk," but the resistance offered to changes in religious garb from certain quarters makes it apparent that some may think differently. Nor is such resistance always to be attributed to unthinking conservativism. It may be based on a well founded respect for the "reality" and social, power of appearances. These realistic bases for questioning the advisability of change for the sake of change deserve respect and should be distinguished from various traditions which grow around uniforms (for example, saints appearing in a certain habit) as attempts to legitimize and sanctify a uniform for all times, places, and social orders. The present discussion of religious clothing will focus around two value orientations which are taken to be more or less conflicting: witnessing for other-worldly (transcendent) values, and identifying with this-worldly (immanent) values. In order to witness for other-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as standing for such values; and the sign, for example, a uniform which cannot be identified with contemporary cultural styles, which enables him (throughout this paper, the him will refer to the "religious," both male and female, with all wish to thank Sisters Rosina Fieno, C.S.J., and Mary Margaret Zaenglein, I.H.M., for criticizing .an earlicr version of this paper. II due respects to the latter) to be recognized as a witness also sets him apart from non-witnessing persons. Simi-larly, in order to be identified with this-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as belonging to the group which shares these values. Social recognition, as mediated by clothing, is a cognitive process whereby the viewer classifies and labels individuals according to his interpretation of their tailored appearance. An in-escapable social-psychol0gical dimension of every social order is the necessary visual "giving off" of information about his place and identity in that society which each individual proffers in his appearance. Stated aphoris- ~tic.ally, a member of society cannot not "appear," tha