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This post takes up from two previous posts (part 1; part 2), asking just what do we (we economists) really know about how interest rates affect inflation. Today, what does contemporary economic theory say? As you may recall, the standard story says that the Fed raises interest rates; inflation (and expected inflation) don't immediately jump up, so real interest rates rise; with some lag, higher real interest rates push down employment and output (IS); with some more lag, the softer economy leads to lower prices and wages (Phillips curve). So higher interest rates lower future inflation, albeit with "long and variable lags." Higher interest rates -> (lag) lower output, employment -> (lag) lower inflation. In part 1, we saw that it's not easy to see that story in the data. In part 2, we saw that half a century of formal empirical work also leaves that conclusion on very shaky ground. As they say at the University of Chicago, "Well, so much for the real world, how does it work in theory?" That is an important question. We never really believe things we don't have a theory for, and for good reason. So, today, let's look at what modern theory has to say about this question. And they are not unrelated questions. Theory has been trying to replicate this story for decades. The answer: Modern (anything post 1972) theory really does not support this idea. The standard new-Keynesian model does not produce anything like the standard story. Models that modify that simple model to achieve something like result of the standard story do so with a long list of complex ingredients. The new ingredients are not just sufficient, they are (apparently) necessary to produce the desired dynamic pattern. Even these models do not implement the verbal logic above. If the pattern that high interest rates lower inflation over a few years is true, it is by a completely different mechanism than the story tells. I conclude that we don't have a simple economic model that produces the standard belief. ("Simple" and "economic" are important qualifiers.) The simple new-Keynesian model The central problem comes from the Phillips curve. The modern Phillips curve asserts that price-setters are forward-looking. If they know inflation will be high next year, they raise prices now. So Inflation today = expected inflation next year + (coefficient) x output gap. \[\pi_t = E_t\pi_{t+1} + \kappa x_t\](If you know enough to complain about \(\beta\approx0.99\) in front of \(E_t\pi_{t+1}\) you know enough that it doesn't matter for the issues here.)Now, if the Fed raises interest rates, and if (if) that lowers output or raises unemployment, inflation today goes down. The trouble is, that's not what we're looking for. Inflation goes down today, (\(\pi_t\))relative to expected inflation next year (\(E_t\pi_{t+1}\)). So a higher interest rate and lower output correlate with inflation that is rising over time. Here is a concrete example: The plot is the response of the standard three equation new-Keynesian model to an \(\varepsilon_1\) shock at time 1:\[\begin{align} x_t &= E_t x_{t+1} - \sigma(i_t - E_t\pi_{t+1}) \\ \pi_t & = \beta E_t \pi_{t+1} + \kappa x_t \\ i_t &= \phi \pi_t + u_t \\ u_t &= \eta u_{t-1} + \varepsilon_t. \end{align}\] Here \(x\) is output, \(i\) is the interest rate, \(\pi\) is inflation, \(\eta=0.6\), \(\sigma=1\), \(\kappa=0.25\), \(\beta=0.95\), \(\phi=1.2\). In this plot, higher interest rates are said to lower inflation. But they lower inflation immediately, on the day of the interest rate shock. Then, as explained above, inflation rises over time. In the standard view, and the empirical estimates from the last post, a higher interest rate has no immediate effect, and then future inflation is lower. See plots in the last post, or this one from Romer and Romer's 2023 summary:Inflation jumping down and then rising in the future is quite different from inflation that does nothing immediately, might even rise for a few months, and then starts gently going down. You might even wonder about the downward jump in inflation. The Phillips curve makes it clear why current inflation is lower than expected future inflation, but why doesn't current inflation stay the same, or even rise, and expected future inflation rise more? That's the "equilibrium selection" issue. All those paths are possible, and you need extra rules to pick a particular one. Fiscal theory points out that the downward jump needs a fiscal tightening, so represents a joint monetary-fiscal policy. But we don't argue about that today. Take the standard new Keynesian model exactly as is, with passive fiscal policy and standard equilibrium selection rules. It predicts that inflation jumps down immediately and then rises over time. It does not predict that inflation slowly declines over time. This is not a new issue. Larry Ball (1994) first pointed out that the standard new Keynesian Phillips curve says that output is high when inflation is high relative to expected future inflation, that is when inflation is declining. Standard beliefs go the other way: output is high when inflation is rising. The IS curve is a key part of the overall prediction, and output faces a similar problem. I just assumed above that output falls when interest rates rise. In the model it does; output follows a path with the same shape as inflation in my little plot. Output also jumps down and then rises over time. Here too, the (much stronger) empirical evidence says that an interest rate rise does not change output immediately, and output then falls rather than rises over time. The intuition has even clearer economics behind it: Higher real interest rates induce people to consume less today and more tomorrow. Higher real interest rates should go with higher, not lower, future consumption growth. Again, the model only apparently reverses the sign by having output jump down before rising. Key issuesHow can we be here, 40 years later, and the benchmark textbook model so utterly does not replicate standard beliefs about monetary policy? One answer, I believe, is confusing adjustment to equilibrium with equilibrium dynamics. The model generates inflation lower than yesterday (time 0 to time 1) and lower than it otherwise would be (time 1 without shock vs time 1 with shock). Now, all economic models are a bit stylized. It's easy to say that when we add various frictions, "lower than yesterday" or "lower than it would have been" is a good parable for "goes down over time." If in a simple supply and demand graph we say that an increase in demand raises prices instantly, we naturally understand that as a parable for a drawn out period of price increases once we add appropriate frictions. But dynamic macroeconomics doesn't work that way. We have already added what was supposed to be the central friction, sticky prices. Dynamic economics is supposed to describe the time-path of variables already, with no extra parables. If adjustment to equilibrium takes time, then model that. The IS and Phillips curve are forward looking, like stock prices. It would make little sense to say "news comes out that the company will never make money, so the stock price should decline gradually over a few years." It should jump down now. Inflation and output behave that way in the standard model. A second confusion, I think, is between sticky prices and sticky inflation. The new-Keynesian model posits, and a huge empirical literature examines, sticky prices. But that is not the same thing as sticky inflation. Prices can be arbitrarily sticky and inflation, the first derivative of prices, can still jump. In the Calvo model, imagine that only a tiny fraction of firms can change prices at each instant. But when they do, they will change prices a lot, and the overall price level will start increasing right away. In the continuous-time version of the model, prices are continuous (sticky), but inflation jumps at the moment of the shock. The standard story wants sticky inflation. Many authors explain the new-Keynesian model with sentences like "the Fed raises interest rates. Prices are sticky, so inflation can't go up right away and real interest rates are higher." This is wrong. Inflation can rise right away. In the standard new-Keynesian model it does so with \(\eta=1\), for any amount of price stickiness. Inflation rises immediately with a persistent monetary policy shock. Just get it out of your heads. The standard model does not produce the standard story. The obvious response is, let's add ingredients to the standard model and see if we can modify the response function to look something like the common beliefs and VAR estimates. Let's go. Adaptive expectations We can reproduce standard beliefs about monetary policy with thoroughly adaptive expectations, in the 1970s ISLM form. I think this is a large part of what most policy makers and commenters have in mind. Modify the above model to leave out the dynamic part of the intertemporal substitution equation, to just say in rather ad hoc way that higher real interest rates lower output, and specify that the expected inflation that drives the real rate and that drives pricing decisions is mechanically equal to previous inflation, \(E_t \pi_{t+1} = \pi_{t-1}\). We get \[ \begin{align} x_t &= -\sigma (i_t - \pi_{t-1}) \\ \pi_t & = \pi_{t-1} + \kappa x_t .\end{align}\] We can solve this sytsem analytically to \[\pi_t = (1+\sigma\kappa)\pi_{t-1} - \sigma\kappa i_t.\]Here's what happens if the Fed permanently raises the interest rate. Higher interest rates send future inflation down. (\(\kappa=0.25,\ \sigma=1.\)) Inflation eventually spirals away, but central banks don't leave interest rates alone forever. If we add a Taylor rule response \(i_t = \phi \pi_t + u_t\), so the central bank reacts to the emerging spiral, we get this response to a permanent monetary policy disturbance \(u_t\): The higher interest rate sets off a deflation spiral. But the Fed quickly follows inflation down to stabilize the situation. This is, I think, the conventional story of the 1980s. In terms of ingredients, an apparently minor change of index from \(E_t \pi_{t+1}\) to \(\pi_{t-1}\) is in fact a big change. It means directly that higher output comes with increasing inflation, not decreasing inflation, solving Ball's puzzle. The change basically changes the sign of output in the Phillips curve. Again, it's not really all in the Phillips curve. This model with rational expectations in the IS equation and adaptive in the Phillips curve produces junk. To get the result you need adaptive expectations everywhere. The adaptive expectations model gets the desired result by changing the basic sign and stability properties of the model. Under rational expectations the model is stable; inflation goes away all on its own under an interest rate peg. With adaptive expectations, the model is unstable. Inflation or deflation spiral away under an interest rate peg or at the zero bound. The Fed's job is like balancing a broom upside down. If you move the bottom (interest rates) one way, the broom zooms off the other way. With rational expectations, the model is stable, like a pendulum. This is not a small wrinkle designed to modify dynamics. This is major surgery. It is also a robust property: small changes in parameters do not change the dominant eigenvalue of a model from over one to less than one. A more refined way to capture how Fed officials and pundits think and talk might be called "temporarily fixed expectations." Policy people do talk about the modern Phillips curve; they say inflation depends on inflation expectations and employment. Expectations are not mechanically adaptive. Expectations are a third force, sometimes "anchored," and amenable to manipulation by speeches and dot plots. Crucially, in this analysis, expected inflation does not move when the Fed changes interest rates. Expectations are then very slowly adaptive, if inflation is persistent, or if there is a more general loss of faith in "anchoring." In the above new-Keynesian model graph, at the minute the Fed raises the interest rate, expected inflation jumps up to follow the graph's plot of the model's forecast of inflation. As a simple way to capture these beliefs, suppose expectations are fixed or "anchored" at \(\pi^e\). Then my simple model is \[\begin{align}x_t & = -\sigma(i_t - \pi^e) \\ \pi_t & = \pi^e + \kappa x_t\end{align}\]so \[\pi_t = \pi^e - \sigma \kappa (i_t - \pi^e).\] Inflation is expected inflation, and lowered by higher interest rates (last - sign). But those rates need only be higher than the fixed expectations; they do not need to be higher than past rates as they do in the adaptive expectations model. That's why the Fed thinks 3% interest rates with 5% inflation is still "contractionary"--expected inflation remains at 2%, not the 5% of recent adaptive experience. Also by fixing expectations, I remove the instability of the adaptive expectations model... so long as those expectations stay anchored. The Fed recognizes that eventually higher inflation moves the expectations, and with a belief that is adaptive, they fear that an inflation spiral can still break out.Even this view does not give us any lags, however. The Fed and commenters clearly believe that higher real interest rates today lower output next year, not immediately; and they believe that lower output and employment today drive inflation down in the future, not immediately. They believe something like \[\begin{align}x_{t+1} &= - \sigma(i_t - \pi^e) \\ \pi_{t+1} &= \pi^e + \kappa x_t.\end{align}\] But now we're at the kind of non-economic ad-hockery that the whole 1970s revolution abandoned. And for a reason: Ad hoc models are unstable, regimes are always changing. Moreover, let me remind you of our quest: Is there a simple economic model of monetary policy that generates something like the standard view? At this level of ad-hockery you might as well just write down the coefficients of Romer and Romer's response function and call that the model of how interest rates affect inflation. Academic economics gave up on mechanical expectations and ad-hoc models in the 1970s. You can't publish a paper with this sort of model. So when I mean a "modern" model, I mean rational expectations, or at least the consistency condition that the expectations in the model are not fundamentally different from forecasts of the model. (Models with explicit learning or other expectation-formation frictions count too.) It's easy to puff about people aren't rational, and looking out the window lots of people do dumb things. But if we take that view, then the whole project of monetary policy on the proposition that people are fundamentally unable to learn patterns in the economy, that a benevolent Federal Reserve can trick the poor little souls into a better outcome. And somehow the Fed is the lone super-rational actor who can avoid all those pesky behavioral biases. We are looking for the minimum necessary ingredients to describe the basic signs and function of monetary policy. A bit of irrational or complex expectation formation as icing on the cake, a possible sufficient ingredient to produce quantitatively realistic dynamics, isn't awful. But it would be sad if irrational expectations or other behavior is a necessary ingredient to get the most basic sign and story of monetary policy right. If persistent irrationality is a central necessary ingredient for the basic sign and operation of monetary policy -- if higher interest rates will raise inflation the minute people smarten up; if there is no simple supply and demand, MV=PY sensible economics underlying the basic operation of monetary policy; if it's all a conjuring trick -- that should really weaken our faith in the whole monetary policy project. Facts help, and we don't have to get religious about it. During the long zero bound, the same commentators and central bankers kept warning about a deflation spiral, clearly predicted by this model. It never happened. Interest rates below inflation from 2021 to 2023 should have led to an upward inflation spiral. It never happened -- inflation eased all on its own with interest rates below inflation.Getting the desired response to interest rates by making the model unstable isn't tenable whether or not you like the ingredient. Inflation also surged in the 1970s faster than adaptive expectations came close to predicting, and fell faster in the 1980s. The ends of many inflations come with credible changes in regime. There is a lot of work now desperately trying to fix new-Keynesian models by making them more old-Keynesian, putting lagged inflation in the Phillips curve, current income in the IS equation, and so forth. Complex learning and expectation formation stories replace the simplistic adaptive expectations here. As far as I can tell, to the extent they work they largely do so in the same way, by reversing the basic stability of the model. Modifying the new-Keynesian modelThe alternative is to add ingredients to the basic new-Keynesian model, maintaining its insistence on real "micro-founded" economics and forward-looking behavior, and describing explicit dynamics as the evolution of equilibrium quantities. Christiano Eichenbaum and Evans (2005) is one of the most famous examples. Recall these same authors created the first most influential VAR that gave the "right" answer to the effects of monetary policy shocks. This paper modifies the standard new-Keynesian model with a specific eye to matching impulse response functions. The want to match all impulse-responses, with a special focus on output. When I started asking my young macro colleagues for a standard model which produces the desired response shape, they still cite CEE first, though it's 20 years later. That's quite an accomplishment. I'll look at it in detail, as the general picture is the same as many other models that achieve the desired result. Here's their bottom line response to a monetary policy shock: (Figure from the 2018 Christiano Eichenbaum and Trabandt Journal of Economic Perspectives summary paper.) The solid line is the VAR point estimate and gray shading is the 95% confidence band. The solid blue line is the main model. The dashed line is the model with only price stickiness, to emphasize the importance of wage stickiness. The shock happens at time 0. Notice the funds rate line that jumps down at that date. That the other lines do not move at time 0 is a result. I graphed the response to a time 1 shock above. That's the answer, now what's the question? What ingredients did they add above the textbook model to reverse the basic sign and jump problem and to produce these pretty pictures? Here is a partial list: Habit formation. The utility function is \(log(c_t - bc_{t-1})\). A capital stock with adjustment costs in investment. Adjustment costs are proportional to investment growth, \([1-S(i_t/i_{t-1})]i_t\), rather than the usual formulation in which adjustment costs are proportional to the investment to capital ratio \(S(i_t/k_t)i_t\). Variable capital utilization. Capital services \(k_t\) are related to the capital stock \(\bar{k}t\) by \(k_t = u_t \bar{k}_t\). The utilization rate \(u_t\) is set by households facing an upward sloping cost \(a(u_t)\bar{k}_t\).Calvo pricing with indexation: Firms randomly get to reset prices, but firms that aren't allowed to reset prices do automatically raise prices at the rate of inflation.Prices are also fixed for a quarter. Technically, firms must post prices before they see the period's shocks.Sticky wages, also with indexation. Households are monopoly suppliers of labor, and set wages Calvo-style like firms. (Later papers put all households into a union which does the wage setting.) Wages are also indexed; Households that don't get to reoptimize their wage still raise wages following inflation. Firms must borrow working capital to finance their wage bill a quarter in advance, and thus pay a interest on the wage bill. Money in the utility function, and money supply control. Monetary policy is a change in the money growth rate, not a pure interest rate target. Whew! But which of these ingredients are necessary, and which are just sufficient? Knowing the authors, I strongly suspect that they are all necessary to get the suite of results. They don't add ingredients for show. But they want to match all of the impulse response functions, not just the inflation response. Perhaps a simpler set of ingredients could generate the inflation response while missing some of the others. Let's understand what each of these ingredients is doing, which will help us to see (if) they are necessary and essential to getting the desired result. I see a common theme in habit formation, adjustment costs that scale by investment growth, and indexation. These ingredients each add a derivative; they take a standard relationship between levels of economic variables and change it to one in growth rates. Each of consumption, investment, and inflation is a "jump variable" in standard economics, like stock prices. Consumption (roughly) jumps to the present value of future income. The level of investment is proportional to the stock price in the standard q theory, and jumps when there is new information. Iterating forward the new-Keynesian Phillips curve \(\pi_t = \beta E_t \pi_{t+1} + \kappa x_t\), inflation jumps to the discounted sum of future output gaps, \(\pi_t = E_t \sum_{j=0}^\infty \beta^jx_{t+j}.\) To produce responses in which output, consumption and investment as well as inflation rise slowly after a shock, we don't want levels of consumption, investment, and inflation to jump this way. Instead we want growth rates to do so. With standard utility, the consumer's linearized first order condition equates expected consumption growth to the interest rate, \( E_t (c_{t+1}/c_t) = \delta + r_t \) Habit, with \(b=1\) gives \( E_t [(c_{t+1}-c_t)/(c_t-c_{t-1})] = \delta + r_t \). (I left out the strategic terms.) Mixing logs and levels a bit, you can see we put a growth rate in place of a level. (The paper has \(b=0.65\) .) An investment adjustment cost function with \(S(i_t/i_{t-1})\) rather than the standard \(S(i_t/k_t)\) puts a derivative in place of a level. Normally we tell a story that if you want a house painted, doubling the number of painters doesn't get the job done twice as fast because they get in each other's way. But you can double the number of painters overnight if you want to do so. Here the cost is on the increase in number of painters each day. Indexation results in a Phillips curve with a lagged inflation term, and that gives "sticky inflation." The Phillips curve of the model (32) and (33) is \[\pi_t = \frac{1}{1+\beta}\pi_{t-1} + \frac{\beta}{1+\beta}E_{t-1}\pi_{t+1} + (\text{constants}) E_{t-1}s_t\]where \(s_t\) are marginal costs (more later). The \(E_{t-1}\) come from the assumption that prices can't react to time \(t\) information. Iterate that forward to (33)\[\pi_t - \pi_{t-1} = (\text{constants}) E_{t-1}\sum_{j=0}^\infty \beta^j s_{t+j}.\] We have successfully put the change in inflation in place of the level of inflation. The Phillips curve is anchored by real marginal costs, and they are not proportional to output in this model as they are in the textbook model above. That's important too. Instead,\[s_t = (\text{constants}) (r^k_t)^\alpha \left(\frac{W_t}{P_t}R_t\right)^{1-\alpha}\] where \(r^k\) is the return to capital \(W/P\) is the real wage and \(R\) is the nominal interest rate. The latter term crops up from the assumption that firms must borrow the wage bill one period in advance. This is an interesting ingredient. There is a lot of talk that higher interest rates raise costs for firms, and they are reducing output as a result. That might get us around some of the IS curve problems. But that's not how it works here. Here's how I think it works. Higher interest rates raise marginal costs, and thus push up current inflation relative to expected future inflation. The equilibrium-selection rules and the rule against instant price changes (coming up next) tie down current inflation, so the higher interest rates have to push down expected future inflation. CEE disagree (p. 28). Writing of an interest rate decline, so all the signs are opposite of my stories, ... the interest rate appears in firms' marginal cost. Since the interest rate drops after an expansionary monetary policy shock, the model embeds a force that pushes marginal costs down for a period of time. Indeed, in the estimated benchmark model the effect is strong enough to induce a transient fall in inflation.But pushing marginal costs down lowers current inflation relative to future inflation -- they're looking at the same Phillips curve just above. It looks to me like they're confusing current with expected future inflation. Intuition is hard. There are plenty of Fisherian forces in this model that want lower interest rates to lower inflation. More deeply, we see here a foundational trouble of the Phillips curve. It was originally a statistical relation between wage inflation and unemployment. It became a (weaker) statistical relation between price inflation and unemployment or the output gap. The new-Keynesian theory wants naturally to describe a relation between marginal costs and price changes, and it takes contortions to make output equal to marginal costs. Phillips curves fit the data terribly. So authors estimating Phillips curves (An early favorite by Tim Cogley and Argia Sbordone) go back, and separate marginal cost from output or employment. As CET write later, they "build features into the model which ensure that firms' marginal costs are nearly acyclical." That helps the fit, but it divorces the Phillips curve shifter variable from the business cycle! Standard doctrine says that for the Fed to lower inflation it must soften the economy and risk unemployment. Doves say don't do it, live with inflation to avoid that cost. Well, if the Phillips curve shifter is "acyclical" you have to throw all that out the window. This shift also points to the central conundrum of the Phillips curve. Here it describes the adjustment of prices to wages or "costs" more generally. It fundamentally describes a relative price, not a price level. OK, but the phenomenon we want to explain is the common component, how all prices and wage tie together or equivalently the decline in the value of the currency, stripped of relative price movements. The central puzzle of macroeconomics is why the common component, a rise or fall of all prices and wages together, has anything to do with output, and for us how it is controlled by the Fed. Christiano Eichenbaum and Evans write (p.3) that "it is crucial to allow for variable capital utilization." I'll try explain why in my own words. Without capital adjustment costs, any change in the real return leads to a big investment jump. \(r=f'(k)\) must jump and that takes a lot of extra \(k\). We add adjustment costs to tamp down the investment response. But now when there is any shock, capital can't adjust enough and there is a big rate of return response. So we need something that acts like a big jump in the capital stock to tamp down \(r=f'(k)\) variability, but not a big investment jump. Variable capital utilization acts like the big investment jump without us seeing a big investment jump. And all this is going to be important for inflation too. Remember the Phillips curve; if output jumps then inflation jumps too. Sticky wages are crucial, and indeed CEE report that they can dispense with sticky prices. One reason is that otherwise profits are countercyclical. In a boom, prices go up faster than wages so profits go up. With sticky prices and flexible wages you get the opposite sign. It's interesting that the "textbook" model has not moved this way. Again, we don't often enough write textbooks. Fixing prices and wages during the period of the shock by assuming price setters can't see the shock for a quarter has a direct effect: It stops any price or wage jumps during the quarter of the shock, as in my first graph. That's almost cheating. Note the VAR also has absolutely zero instantaneous inflation response. This too is by assumption. They "orthogonalize" the variables so that all the contemporaneous correlation between monetary policy shocks and inflation or output is considered part of the Fed's "rule" and none of it reflects within-quarter reaction of prices or quantities to the Fed's actions. Step back and admire. Given the project "find elaborations of the standard new-Keynesian model to match VAR impulse response functions" could you have come up with any of this? But back to our task. That's a lot of apparently necessary ingredients. And reading here or CEE's verbal intuition, the logic of this model is nothing like the standard simple intuition, which includes none of the necessary ingredients. Do we really need all of this to produce the basic pattern of monetary policy? As far as we know, we do. And hence, that pattern may not be as robust as it seems. For all of these ingredients are pretty, ... imaginative. Really, we are a long way from the Lucas/Prescott vision that macroeconomic models should be based on well tried and measured microeconomic ingredients that are believably invariant to changes in the policy regime. CEE argue hard for the plausibility of these microeconomic specifications (see especially the later CET Journal of Economic Perspectives article), but they have to try so hard precisely because the standard literature doesn't have any of these ingredients. The "level" rather than "growth rate" foundations of consumption, investment, and pricing decisions pervade microeconomics. Microeconomists worry about labor monopsony, not labor monopoly; firms set wages, households don't. (Christiano Eichenbam and Trabandt (2016) get wage stickiness from a more realistic search and matching model. Curiously, the one big labor union fiction is still the most common, though few private sector workers are unionized.) Firms don't borrow the wage bill a quarter ahead of time. Very few prices and wages are indexed in the US. Like habits, perhaps these ingredients are simple stand ins for something else, but at some point we need to know what that something else is. That is especially true if one wants to do optimal policy or welfare analysis. Just how much economics must we reinvent to match this one response function? How far are we really from the ad-hoc ISLM equations that Sims (1980) destroyed? Sadly, subsequent literature doesn't help much (more below). Subsequent literature has mostly added ingredients, including heterogeneous agents (big these days), borrowing constraints, additional financial frictions (especially after 2008), zero bound constraints, QE, learning and complex expectations dynamics. (See CET 2018 JEP for a good verbal survey.) The rewards in our profession go to those who add a new ingredient. It's very hard to publish papers that strip a model down to its basics. Editors don't count that as "new research," but just "exposition" below the prestige of their journals. Though boiling a model down to essentials is maybe more important in the end than adding more bells and whistles. This is about where we are. Despite the pretty response functions, I still score that we don't have a reliable, simple, economic model that produces the standard view of monetary policy. Mankiw and Reis, sticky expectations Mankiw and Reis (2002) expressed the challenge clearly over 20 years ago. In reference to the "standard" New-Keynesian Phillips curve \(\pi_t = \beta E_t \pi_{t+1} + \kappa x_t\) they write a beautiful and succinct paragraph: Ball [1994a] shows that the model yields the surprising result that announced, credible disinflations cause booms rather than recessions. Fuhrer and Moore [1995] argue that it cannot explain why inflation is so persistent. Mankiw [2001] notes that it has trouble explaining why shocks to monetary policy have a delayed and gradual effect on inflation. These problems appear to arise from the same source: although the price level is sticky in this model, the inflation rate can change quickly. By contrast, empirical analyses of the inflation process (e.g., Gordon [1997]) typically give a large role to "inflation inertia."At the cost of repetition, I emphasize the last sentence because it is so overlooked. Sticky prices are not sticky inflation. Ball already said this in 1994: Taylor (1979, 198) and Blanchard (1983, 1986) show that staggering produces inertia in the price level: prices just slowly to a fall in th money supply. ...Disinflation, however, is a change in the growth rate of money not a one-time shock to the level. In informal discussions, analysts often assume that the inertia result carries over from levels to growth rates -- that inflation adjusts slowly to a fall in money growth. As I see it, Mankiw and Reis generalize the Lucas (1972) Phillips curve. For Lucas, roughly, output is related to unexpected inflation\[\pi_t = E_{t-1}\pi_t + \kappa x_t.\] Firms don't see everyone else's prices in the period. Thus, when a firm sees an unexpected rise in prices, it doesn't know if it is a higher relative price or a higher general price level; the firm expands output based on how much it thinks the event might be a relative price increase. I love this model for many reasons, but one, which seems to have fallen by the wayside, is that it explicitly founds the Phillips curve in firms' confusion about relative prices vs. the price level, and thus faces up to the problem why should a rise in the price level have any real effects. Mankiw and Reis basically suppose that firms find out the general price level with lags, so output depends on inflation relative to a distributed lag of its expectations. It's clearest for the price level (p. 1300)\[p_t = \lambda\sum_{j=0}^\infty (1-\lambda)^j E_{t-j}(p_t + \alpha x_t).\] The inflation expression is \[\pi_t = \frac{\alpha \lambda}{1-\lambda}x_t + \lambda \sum_{j=0}^\infty (1-\lambda)^j E_{t-1-j}(\pi_t + \alpha \Delta x_t).\](Some of the complication is that you want it to be \(\pi_t = \sum_{j=0}^\infty E_{t-1-j}\pi_t + \kappa x_t\), but output doesn't enter that way.) This seems totally natural and sensible to me. What is a "period" anyway? It makes sense that firms learn heterogeneously whether a price increase is relative or price level. And it obviously solves the central persistence problem with the Lucas (1972) model, that it only produces a one-period output movement. Well, what's a period anyway? (Mankiw and Reis don't sell it this way, and actually don't cite Lucas at all. Curious.) It's not immediately obvious that this curve solves the Ball puzzle and the declining inflation puzzle, and indeed one must put it in a full model to do so. Mankiw and Reis (2002) mix it with \(m_t + v = p_t + x_t\) and make some stylized analysis, but don't show how to put the idea in models such as I started with or make a plot. Their less well known follow on paper Sticky Information in General Equilibrium (2007) is much better for this purpose because they do show you how to put the idea in an explicit new-Keynesian model, like the one I started with. They also add a Taylor rule, and an interest rate rather than money supply instrument, along with wage stickiness and a few other ingredients,. They show how to solve the model overcoming the problem that there are many lagged expectations as state variables. But here is the response to the monetary policy shock: Response to a Monetary Policy Shock, Mankiw and Reis (2007). Sadly they don't report how interest rates respond to the shock. I presume interest rates went down temporarily. Look: the inflation and output gap plots are about the same. Except for the slight delay going up, these are exactly the responses of the standard NK model. When output is high, inflation is high and declining. The whole point was to produce a model in which high output level would correspond to rising inflation. Relative to the first graph, the main improvement is just a slight hump shape in both inflation and output responses. Describing the same model in "Pervasive Stickiness" (2006), Mankiw and Reis describe the desideratum well: The Acceleration Phenomenon....inflation tends to rise when the economy is booming and falls when economic activity is depressed. This is the central insight of the empirical literature on the Phillips curve. One simple way to illustrate this fact is to correlate the change in inflation, \(\pi_{t+2}-\pi_{t-2}\) with [the level of] output, \(y_t\), detrended with the HP filter. In U.S. quarterly data from 1954-Q3 to 2005-Q3, the correlation is 0.47. That is, the change in inflation is procyclical.Now look again at the graph. As far as I can see, it's not there. Is this version of sticky inflation a bust, for this purpose? I still think it's a neat idea worth more exploration. But I thought so 20 years ago too. Mankiw and Reis have a lot of citations but nobody followed them. Why not? I suspect it's part of a general pattern that lots of great micro sticky price papers are not used because they don't produce an easy aggregate Phillips curve. If you want cites, make sure people can plug it in to Dynare. Mankiw and Reis' curve is pretty simple, but you still have to keep all past expectations around as a state variable. There may be alternative ways of doing that with modern computational technology, putting it in a Markov environment or cutting off the lags, everyone learns the price level after 5 years. Hank models have even bigger state spaces! Some more modelsWhat about within the Fed? Chung, Kiley, and Laforte 2010, "Documentation of the Estimated, Dynamic, Optimization-based (EDO) Model of the U.S. Economy: 2010 Version" is one such model. (Thanks to Ben Moll, in a lecture slide titled "Effects of interest rate hike in U.S. Fed's own New Keynesian model") They describe it as This paper provides documentation for a large-scale estimated DSGE model of the U.S. economy – the Federal Reserve Board's Estimated, Dynamic, Optimization- based (FRB/EDO) model project. The model can be used to address a wide range of practical policy questions on a routine basis.Here are the central plots for our purpose: The response of interest rates and inflation to a monetary policy shock. No long and variable lags here. Just as in the simple model, inflation jumps down on the day of the shock and then reverts. As with Mankiw and Reis, there is a tiny hump shape, but that's it. This is nothing like the Romer and Romer plot. Smets and Wouters (2007) "Shocks and Frictions in US Business Cycles: A Bayesian DSGE Approach" is about as famous as Christiano Eichenbaum and Evans as a standard new-Keynesian model that supposedly matches data well. It "contains many shocks and frictions. It features sticky nominal price and wage settings that allow for backward inflation indexation, habit formation in consumption, and investment adjustment costs that create hump-shaped responses... and variable capital utilization and fixed costs in production"Here is their central graph of the response to a monetary policy shockAgain, there is a little hump-shape, but the overall picture is just like the one we started with. Inflation mostly jumps down immediately and then recovers; the interest rate shock leads to future inflation that is higher, not lower than current inflation. There are no lags from higher interest rates to future inflation declines. The major difference, I think, is that Smets and Wouters do not impose the restriction that inflation cannot jump immediately on either their theory or empirical work, and Christiano, Eichenbaum and Evans impose that restriction in both places. This is important. In a new-Keynesian model some combination of state variables must jump on the day of the shock, as it is only saddle-path stable. If inflation can't move right away, that means something else does. Therefore, I think, CEE also preclude inflation jumping the next period. Comparing otherwise similar ingredients, it looks like this is the key ingredient for producing Romer-Romer like responses consistent with the belief in sticky inflation. But perhaps the original model and Smets-Wouters are right! I do not know what happens if you remove the CEE orthogonalization restriction and allow inflation to jump on the day of the shock in the date. That would rescue the new-Keynesian model, but it would destroy the belief in sticky inflation and long and variable lags. Closing thoughtsI'll reiterate the main point. As far as I can tell, there is no simple economic model that produces the standard belief. Now, maybe belief is right and models just have to catch up. It is interesting that there is so little effort going on to do this. As above, the vast outpouring of new-Keynesian modeling has been to add even more ingredients. In part, again, that's the natural pressures of journal publication. But I think it's also an honest feeling that after Christiano Eichenbaun and Evans, this is a solved problem and adding other ingredients is all there is to do. So part of the point of this post (and "Expectations and the neutrality of interest rates") is to argue that this is not a solved problem, and that removing ingredients to find the simplest economic model that can produce standard beliefs is a really important task. Then, does the model incorporate anything at all of the standard intuition, or is it based on some different mechanism al together? These are first order important and unresolved questions!But for my lay readers, here is as far as I know where we are. If you, like the Fed, hold to standard beliefs that higher interest rates lower future output and inflation with long and variable lags, know there is no simple economic theory behind that belief, and certainly the standard story is not how economic models of the last four decades work. Update:I repeat a response to a comment below, because it is so important. I probably wasn't clear enough that the "problem" of high output with inflation falling rather than rising is a problem of models vs. traditional beliefs, rather than of models vs. facts. The point of the sequence of posts, really, is that the traditional beliefs are likely wrong. Inflation does not fall, following interest rate increases, with dependable, long, and perhaps variable lags. That belief is strong, but neither facts, empirical evidence, or theory supports it. ("Variable" is a great way to scrounge data to make it fit priors.) Indeed many successful disinflations like ends of hyperinflations feature a sigh of relief and output surge on the real side.
Part one of an interview with Salvatore "Sal" Pisciotta. Topics include: How Sal became a barber and eventually quit because he didn't like the work. How his parents immigrated to the United States from Italy. His parents lived in Ashburnham, MA and then moved to Fitchburg, where Sal was born. His parents were uneducated and the disadvantages they faced because of that. Stories Sal's parents told about Italy. How his family felt when World War II broke out. Sal's feelings about the events of September 11th and terrorism in general. His father's work as a laborer. The differences in how girls and boys were treated in his family. Education. What his mother was like and what a typical day was like for her. The garden his parents kept. Memories from his childhood. The food his mother used to prepare. His mother's experience working at a mill. What it was like to buy groceries and have ice delivered. Making wine and sausages. What Fitchburg was like when Sal was growing up. The boarders his parents housed. ; 1 LINDA: This is Linda [Rosenwan] on Friday, November 9. It's 9:50 a.m. We're with Sal Pisciotta, 208 Woodland Street in Fitchburg. And hello, Sal. SAL: Hi. Hi, Linda. LINDA: Okay. Here we go. So why don't you tell me -- you were just telling me a little bit -- I hate to ask you again, but tell me what happened after you graduated from Fitchburg High School in 1948. SAL: Oh. I went to barber school in Boston; that was for six months. Six months course, and then brother Joe and I, we opened up a barber shop down the street here, you know, in Fitchburg. And I always disliked being a barber, but I was forced into it. I always wanted to be civil engineer, but I mean, in those days if your father or brother was a barber you had to be a barber or a tailor or a cobbler or what the heck ever they were. LINDA: So he was an older brother. SAL: Oh, yeah. He was 17 years. I never grew up with him. I mean, I never grew up he and I being brothers. I mean, he was 17 years. He was… I was 3 years old when he got married, so we never grew up being close as brothers. And then the Korean War came along, I got drafted, and I went to Korea. I was there for, well, 15 months in the 24th Division. When I came back I wanted to go to school but then I got married, and one thing led into another. I went back into barbering, but then that was it. I couldn't take it anymore. I just had to get the heck out of there. LINDA: Did your brother know that you hated it? SAL: Oh, yeah. He knew it. He didn't want to see me leave, but hey, I quit. I told him I was leaving, then I had problems with my wife and I couldn't find a job. The country was in a recession back in '63, '62. So finally I landed this job in Leominster for the Doyle Estate, which was a wonderful thing, working for this lady. She's been very gracious and great to me and my three children. And that's it. I'm supposed to be retired here. LINDA: Okay, so we're going to stop the interview. Again. SAL: Okay. What we said is all gone, right? LINDA: All gone. We were just starting. See, it's at two minutes again.2 SAL: Okay. LINDA: Because we were just talking about -- so we won't talk about her personally. SAL: No, please, no. Don't say it. Nothing about her personally. LINDA: Okay. So then let me thing back what we should talk about. SAL: [Unintelligible – 00:02:55]? LINDA: Yes, we could start there. So your parents, Antonio… SAL: Antonio and Antoinette. LINDA: Now, did they come from Italy together? SAL: Yes. He came -- Dad was born in 1883. He went into the Italian Army. I think he was in the Italian Army a couple of years. Then he came to America, I think it was in 1906, or '07, whatever it is. And he worked in the Sumner Tunnel in Boston, I'd say. And then I guess he got laid off. He got laid off, and then he was going to go back to Italy. You know, the Italian government was calling these people, these immigrants, these Italian people that came over here. There was no work, and for $5 you could get on ship and go back to Italy. And my father had bought a ticket; he was going back to Italy. He was down on Hanover Street or one of the streets in the North End, and he met another Italian man, and they asked my father where he was going, where he was working. And my father says, I have no job here. I'm going back to Italy. So he said, tomorrow you meet at a certain place here in Boston, and we're going to go to Wellesley. In Wellesley there was a very, very wealthy man that has horses and stables and greenhouses, exactly what these Italians could do. So that's how my father went to work there, and he worked there for a few months. Then he did go back to Italy, and he was going to go marry this woman that he had left that he was in love with.3 Come to find out, she didn't wait for him. She had already gotten married to somebody else. So he struck up a relationship, which I think actually was a fixed marriage, with my mother. And anyway, he met somebody on the street, another -- I think Papa says once he was the mailman or something and says, Tony, get married and go back to America. Italy is about ready to go to war with Tripoli. LINDA: Oh, so wait a minute. So he did go back to Italy? SAL: Yes. Yeah. He went back to Italy to get married, but the woman that he was in love with, that he liked, she already got married. A letter carrier said to him, go back to America; that Italy is ready to go to war with Tripoli and that's when the 1912, I think it was, Dad came back with -- and she was 19 years old and my dad was 27, I guess. In 1912 they came and they landed in Boston. LINDA: So at this time he had been -- it was a married arranged for him, to a 19-year-old Antoinette. SAL: Yes. It was just, in those days, it was all arranged marriages. LINDA: Yeah. So they both came back here? SAL: Yeah. And I think they settled in South Ashburnham, a little jerk town up the street here, in South Ashburnham. And then he raised his family there. LINDA: Now, why do you think he ended up there? SAL: In those days, Linda, if Joe came, or Frank came to America, he would call him brother and his brother, he comes to America and didn't even know how to speak English, so where do you go? You go with your brother, or you go with somebody that you knew that called you. Then when you get here, you call your father-in-law or your sister-in-law, whatever it is, and you all get together. Because in those days, they all came here to Fitchburg. There was quite a population there was here, they call it the patch down on Water Street, and there was a lot of Italian people.4 But had there been work here in Fitchburg, today the Italian population would have been greater than it is in the North End of Boston, because what had happened was the work stopped. There was no more work, they weren't building any more factories, and then they started building the State House in New York, and all the Italians -- not all the Italians, but a lot of Italians, picked up their roots here from Fitchburg and Leominster, and they went to Albany, New York to live. LINDA: So who did you father follow then to Ashburnham? Do you know who was living there? SAL: Oh, yeah. His brother. LINDA: His brother. SAL: Yeah. LINDA: Now, what kind of work was he doing there? SAL: Laborers. That's all they ever do. Laborers. In those days they were building the paper mills, and that's it. A pick and shovel. There was no call up the cement truck and the cement truck come over with some cement. Everything was made by hand. It was laborers. And they were getting maybe $5 or $6 a week, and that was it. A week. Not a day or an hour, a week. LINDA: Now, where were they living, do you know? Were they living in a boarding house? SAL: No. It was a regular house. In fact, my daughter, Cynthia, lives up the street but the house is demolished now. The house isn't there anymore. Then from there they moved from South Ashburnham, they came down here on Orchard Street here in Fitchburg. They lived there for a few years, then they moved to [Edlee] Street and that's where I was born 72 years ago. LINDA: So what made them come to Fitchburg? SAL: Because one of his brothers was here, and there was work. LINDA: So he had a brother in Ashburnham and then Fitchburg?5 SAL: Then they came to Fitchburg because there was work here. They were building the paper mills, there was work. That's what they would do. They would just follow wherever work was, and then these Italians, the woman, would take in their brothers as boarders, so maybe about 65, or 70, a dollar a week they would cook for these guys, they would wash their clothes, iron, for a dollar a week. Cook their meals, make their lunch. That was America. They were the ones that built this country, those immigrants. Not only the Italians, I'm talking about the Swedes, the French and all that. Of course, and then the Italians. And then you get the Englishmen that came to this country and those -- is this being…? LINDA: Go ahead. That's fine. That's what history's about. SAL: So we got all these people that came over from Ireland, those guys ended up with the good jobs because they knew how to speak English. You get the Italians, the French, the Polocks, what do they know? They don't even know English. And that's how all the Kennedys and the rest of those rich families survived. Or got started. LINDA: That's what was so interesting about my interview yesterday. I think I told you, the Italian Citizens Club, with the [unintelligible - 00:10:20], was that they formed so that the Italians, they could teach them English and get them to become citizens and then show them the way to get better jobs. So they had to do that because there was a language barrier. SAL: Yeah. A language barrier. Like my father. My father and mother never went to school a day in their life. LINDA: Did they ever learn English? SAL: Yeah, they learned English. Very, very broken English, but they never went to school. I mean, we spoke in the house; it was all Italian as we grew up. I mean, with my mother and father usually would speak Italian, but amongst us kids it was English. But amongst Mom and Dad it was always Italian. LINDA: So they never became citizens?6 SAL: Oh, they did. Yeah. LINDA: Oh, they did? SAL: Yeah, during the Second World War, and then I can still remember before the Second World War my father became an American citizen. He was the happiest guy in the world. Then my mother, she became a citizen because she had a son that was in the Navy and he was in the war, and automatically she became an American citizen. LINDA: Wait, how did that work? SAL: What's that? LINDA: She automatically became a citizen? SAL: Her son was in the service, and I guess contributed to his country, and she just went to city hall one day and they had the ceremony and she became a citizen. But she never went to school. She never even knew how to sign her name. LINDA: I have my grandmother's passport where she has just an "x" where it says, sign your name. SAL: Dad could sign his name but it was… anyway. LINDA: It's amazing, though, isn't it? That they could come here and… SAL: They're the ones that built this county, right? LINDA: So you said your dad was the happiest man in the world. SAL: Oh, yeah. He was so proud. He became an American citizen, and he never had any desire to go back to Italy. He says, America's my home now. I want to stay in America. I don't want to go to Italy anymore. LINDA: Isn't that amazing? I mean, can you imagine yourself going to another country and…? SAL: And not even speaking a word of English? LINDA: And not becoming a citizen? SAL: And then becoming a citizen. Yeah. LINDA: So where were they from in Italy? SAL: Salemi. LINDA: Is this in Sicily?7 SAL: Yes, it's in Salemi. S-A-L-E-M-I. Salemi. Province of Trepani. T-R-E-P-A-N-I, Sicily. LINDA: Spell the Salemi again? SAL: S-A-L-E-M-I. LINDA: All right. So both your parents were from there? SAL: Yes. LINDA: Okay. So do you ever remember them talking about the old country? SAL: Oh, yeah. My father told me -- he would tell me that when he was courting my mother—because where they came from was all hills and mountains and there was no flashlights in those days and they used to have like a lamp and the lantern and my mother lived in the hills—and at nighttime he would slip, he would fall 200 or 300 feet down the cliff running. She came from the hills, poor thing. Nineteen years old she came to this country. Never went back, never saw her mother or father anymore, but anyway. LINDA: Did she used to have anyone write letters? Well, they probably couldn't read them. SAL: No, they could. My sister could speak Italian, and they would call [unintelligible - 00:14:11], but then naturally when the Second World War broke out, they were, you know, we were against the war on Italy, against Italy, so there was no communication then. LINDA: How did your parents feel about that when the United States was at war with Italy? Do you remember anything? SAL: That was terrible because they figured they were Americans, and they thought it was stupid that he got -- Mussolini in those days, got involved with Hitler. They thought it was a disgrace. The Italians, you know, if you look at history, they were the ones that turned against Hitler and the Italian army gave up. Every time they would see the American army coming they would always wave their hands and give up. They didn't want to fight. LINDA: So did your father have any brothers or sisters that stayed in Italy?8 SAL: Oh, yeah. Yeah. There were two of them, I think, that stayed in Italy. Sisters, no he didn't have. He had brothers. One of them was here in American, and two of them, I think, stayed in Italy. But he never saw the ones in Italy anymore. LINDA: He didn't try to get them over here? SAL: No. LINDA: No? What about your mother's family? SAL: She tried to get her brother over here. I can still remember going to city hall, and she tried to get her brother, whose name was Salvatore also, and the girl at the city hall says there was a quota in those days of foreigners coming into this country, and we asked how long it would take before her brother came to America, and they told me seven years. In those days. Today, what the hell happened to this quota? Right? So I guess he got disgusted or discouraged and he moved to Venezuela. And he did come here. He was here to visit my mother. He was here for about four or five weeks and then went back to Venezuela. But what happened to the quota in this country where you had to wait to come in here? Now the doors are open and every [screwball] can come in and out as they please. Right, Linda? LINDA: Do you think we'll go back to a quota system? SAL: No. LINDA: No? SAL: Of course not. Hey, you've got Bush, who just says what? Mexicans, a couple of months ago he says there's three million of them and we're going to go make them all American citizens. LINDA: How did people of your generation -- I mean, do you talk to your friends about what happened on September 11th? SAL: No, it's a tragedy it happened. And like everybody else we haven't seen nothing here. What the hell? Everybody that's -- not everybody, but that's the consensus… anybody doesn't have to be a brain surgeon to 9 figure that out. That war's going to be worse. [Unintelligible - 00:17:32] watching the bridges, they're watching the water supplies, airports. It's too bad. LINDA: I just always wonder how veterans of the war feel, because at least you knew who the enemy was, and you knew the country to attack. SAL: Right. And we would attack the enemy. These people, September 11, they attack these poor civilians, which was terrible. I mean, if they want to attack an army base or a Navy base or a ship, okay, that's war, like Pearl Harbor was war. But these people… again, it's their faith in Allah and the Mohammed and the wacky people that they are. But they're never going to erase terrorism. You're not going to wipe it out in this world. Never. [Unintelligible – 00:18:37] Mohammed and [unintelligible - 00:18:38] what the hell. You know it. There's another hundred guys right behind him that are worse than him. Am I right, Linda? LINDA: I'm afraid you might be. I know. That's a bad situation. SAL: Yes is it. It's terrible. LINDA: You think back to how your parents were. Their concern was putting a roof over their children's heads and putting food on the table, and now… SAL: Now we -- right. That's terrible. Like you say, you've got to worry about your grandchildren and your children, and that's… we've seen the better days of America. Let's put it that way, Linda. LINDA: I think of how heartbroken my grandparents would be to see something like this. SAL: Oh, God. They wouldn't believe it. When you see two big buildings like that just crumbling down, it's unbelievable. LINDA: Well, so getting back to… SAL: Do you want a cup of coffee? LINDA: No, do you? SAL: No. LINDA: I'm all set. SAL: You're all set?10 LINDA: Thanks. Every time I talk about it I get a little… SAL: Well, naturally, of course. It's a terrible thing that's happening in this country, and in the whole world. Even Italians, in Italy they're having their problems, too. [Unintelligible - 00:20:10] a few more, they had explosives in their car, they don't know where they were going. Anyway. LINDA: Back in your father's day, or even when you were younger, people just loved America. They even liked to be here. Now there's such an anti-American sentiment. Just, you know, in a relatively few short years things have really changed. SAL: Well, you know, America is the greatest country in the world, there's no question about it, okay. But the trouble with this country, I mean, is we try to force democracy down the throats of a lot of these small countries. Hey, let them live the way they want to live. If they want to live in communism, let them live in communism. Why do we have to spread democracy all the time? Am I right? It's a good forum, it's like a lecture. They want the communist rule, I mean, there's no more communism out there, I guess, and there's more crime. But anyway. LINDA: So your father must have been somewhat old when you were born, not old but what, like 40 years old? SAL: Oh yeah, he was. I think he was 42 or 43. LINDA: So he was still working as a laborer. SAL: Yeah. No, he worked in Simon's, it was a steel -- it was near Fitchburg, it was where they fabricated saws and paper knives and stuff like that, [unintelligible - 00:21:53] Steel. He worked there for 32 years, then he retired when he was 65. LINDA: So what did he do for them? SAL: Labor. Just hard work, just a hard laborer. LINDA: But it must have seemed like kind of a cushy job after working outside with a shovel. SAL: Oh yeah, I'm sure it must have been. But I mean, the way he was talking I guess they had this kind of a stones of a brace of [unintelligible -11 00:22:23] and they'd grind them down. I'm sure it must have been hard work for the poor guy. Then he used to walk back and forth to work to save a nickel or a cop there in those days. LINDA: How far is that? SAL: It used to be on North Street, right on Main Street. Right here at [unintelligible - 00:22:40] College, North Street. LINDA: Okay. He would walk from here? SAL: He would walk, yeah just to save a nickel on the bus. LINDA: He probably didn't have a very -- he didn't have [unintelligible - 00:22:55] back then, right? SAL: Oh God, no. Just a hardworking man, that's all he was. Poor guy, I feel so sorry. What a life he lived. But anyway. LINDA: Why do you say that? Because he worked so hard? SAL: Oh, he worked so hard and didn't have all the conveniences that we have today. We didn't have a telephone in the house. I think we had to go to the fire station to use the telephone. There was no telephones back when I was growing up. I think I was about five years old before I ever sat in an automobile. LINDA: So tell me about making a phone call. You'd walk down to the fire station? SAL: Yeah, there was a fire station. So you'd make a telephone call to somebody. We didn't have a phone. LINDA: Did they charge you? SAL: I don't remember, that I don't remember. But the first one we got was a four-party telephone. The phone used to ring three or four, that's not ours, that's not ours. LINDA: I vaguely remember my grandmother having that, yeah. SAL: We had a four-party telephone. LINDA: So tell me what your mother was like. SAL: Very strict. She was a strict woman, yeah. She brought up five daughters, and not one of them ever crossed the line. Real proud girls.12 LINDA: Were girls and boys treated differently? SAL: Oh yeah. To an Italian woman the sons were always the favorite. Yeah, I was the favorite. Especially the oldest one, he was always the favorite one. LINDA: Now, was that Joe? SAL: Joe, yeah. LINDA: So he decided to be a barber. That was a good decision that you would have to follow? SAL: Well. LINDA: A good decision for him. SAL: Good for him I guess. And in those days we didn't have the opportunity to go to high school anyway. At 16 years old everybody had to quit and go to work. LINDA: Did you quit high school? SAL: No, I graduated in '48. Out of seven, my sister Millie and I were the only ones that graduated. LINDA: You were the youngest? SAL: I was the youngest, yeah. LINDA: And she must have been a young… SAL: Millie right now I think is 78, I think, 79. LINDA: So did your parents think that education was important? SAL: Yes, they did, but food on the table was more important, yeah. LINDA: So were the children expected to go out and get jobs and contribute? SAL: Yeah, we all had to pay board in those days. Yeah, whatever the pay was that you brought into the house, a certain percentage had to go to the household, to my mother. She was a strict woman, very strict. But she was a good lady. Poor thing, she spent eight years of her life, eight years was in a nursing home after Alzheimer's I guess, after the sclerosis. Poor thing, didn't know who the hell she was, she didn't know who we were either. LINDA: Did she die after your father?13 SAL: Yeah. LINDA: So what was her day like every day? SAL: Well, when she was younger [unintelligible - 00:26:50] with her kids. She even worked in one of the yarn mills here in Fitchburg; she even had a job. I mean, she was a hardworking woman. And I used to remember her doing the canning; she'd can tomatoes and beans and dad had a little garden a couple miles away from here, a little piece of land. And he used to make his own grape, his own wine, rather. And it was great. All the Italians around here were living the -- I mean a lot of [unintelligible - 00:27:22] and the trucks used to go by this time of the year loaded with grape from California, and we would go down south, he would buy the grape, and we'd go down in the cellar and we would make two or three barrels of wine. All the Italians used to make barrels of wine. It was interesting, it was very interesting. But it's all gone now. I've got fond memories of that. LINDA: So it seems like maybe it didn't seem like work. But it was the way of life. SAL: No, it wasn't. The way of life, right. LINDA: So was it typical for a family to buy a little piece of land to garden? SAL: Oh yeah. They all had to have their grape arbor, had their grape arbor and land. They all had to have their piece of land. They had to grow their squash and their tomatoes. Well, most of them anyway. LINDA: So who would take care of the garden? SAL: My dad and I would. Come home from school, my father, he would come home, and there was no cars in those days, we used to have a big wagon. We'd pull the wagon, the garden was maybe a quarter of a mile away, half a mile away from here, and we would go up there. After school there was no going to play football with the kids or going swimming; it was work, work, work. That's how it was. And I would help my father. He would plant this and plant that. The poor guy didn't know how to read how to 14 plant this and what you should do, and I used to read and explain everything to him. LINDA: So who owned the land? I mean, did one person own the land and they kind of subdivided it? SAL: No, he bought the piece of land from the seller, the man who owned a lot of pieces of land. Of course, they're all houses now, but in those days it was all woods and stones, and he would, one of my uncles with a horse, they cleared all the land, chopped down all the trees, piled up all the stones. They cleared the land themselves. There was no bulldozers in those days; everything was done by hand. LINDA: Where was that? Do you know the street? SAL: Yeah, it was off between Herd and Exeter Street. LINDA: Now, did he continue doing that all the way? SAL: Until he passed away, yeah. LINDA: And what happened to it? SAL: The land? His dream was always having a house on this land, but my mother, in those days, again, five daughters, she figured if he built a house there was no men or boys that was still bringing in the pay. In other words a girl gets married, she's out of the house, there's no more money coming in. So my father went to one of the lumberyards in those days, I think it was $4,000. It would have cleared the land, built them a six-room house, and turned over the keys for $4,000. And my mother says no. She says we've got five daughters, there will be no money coming in. So that broke my father's heart. He never seen a house on that piece of land that he had. So he passed away, and the funeral parlor up the street here -- next to the funeral parlor there was a house, and it belonged to, I guess, his aunt or something, and he bought the land from him, my brother Joe, and they moved the house to the land over there, and somebody else is on our place now. The land is gone. LINDA: So why is it that your generation didn't keep the garden still?15 SAL: Number one it was a lot of work. And then my sisters all got married, and they would have a little garden behind their house. But I mean, as far as that big piece of land that my father had, nobody was interested in it anymore. Then I went into the service, the land just got lost. My brother Joe sold it to this undertaker over here and he moved the house. The house is on the land now. LINDA: So do you think your father had that garden to feed his family mostly? SAL: Oh yeah. Oh yeah, definitely that's what it was for. And they used to have a little -- everybody had a shack, my father had a shack, [oceandino] they'd call it, a shack on there. And he had a little stove in there. I can still see my mother with the tomatoes cooking her tomatoes on the wood burning stove. And there was a little bed in the corner where my father would get tired during the day working, he'd lay on the bed and take a nap. That's one thing about him, every afternoon he used to take a nap. Even if it was for 20 minutes, Dad would always take a nap. LINDA: It's the Italian way, right? They still do that now. SAL: Yeah, he used to take his nap. And Mom used to do all the canning. We used to go up there, we were kids, we used to go up there and had a big table underneath the grapevine and there was a well. We used to pump water out of the well. It was fun. I mean, you don't see that anymore. LINDA: They used to have a shack right on the land? SAL: Oh yeah, there was a shack. LINDA: And what was it called? SAL: Well, in Italian oceandino. But yeah, there was a wood burning stove in there, a nice wood burning stove. And there was a bed. And Msom had a table in there and chairs, and when it would rain we would eat inside. If not we would go outside to eat under the -- it had a grape arbor with a well, the well, and then there was a grape arbor all around. LINDA: Was this on weekends mostly? SAL: Weekends, or even after school. Get out of school at 2:00 and we used to walk up there, and Mom was there doing the canning. There was no cars 16 in those days. We used to have a big wagon, put everything in the wagon, and come down through the streets with the wagon. LINDA: So can you still smell that sauce cooking? SAL: Sure can. Boy, she could make it wonderful. And pizza, she used to make that pizza, not that stuff you buy in the stores today, that little thin stuff. She used to make the regular Sicilian pizza with about a good inch thick, yeah. LINDA: What other kinds of things did she make? SAL: She wasn't a fancy cook. Like I said, she left Italy when she was 18, 19 years old. But no, not to knock my mother, but she used to make a tremendous sauce. She used to do a lot of cooking with ricotta, you know that cottage cheese, ricotta. And a lot of fried stuff in those days, like fried peppers and fried squash. But real fancy dishes, no, poor thing, she didn't know anything about that. LINDA: Did she make her own cheese? SAL: No, no. LINDA: Did she use a lot of fish? Did she… SAL: Not too much. Mom didn't go for fish so much. And the fact that she didn't… she really didn't cook with garlic. LINDA: No? SAL: You know why? The poor thing, she was in the mill down at [unintelligible - 00:35:25] yard, and all the Italian women, the bosses and those ladies, they used to call them hey, you garlic eaters, you garlic eaters. My mother got offended because they would call her a garlic eater, and she never would cook with garlic. That's something, huh? LINDA: So do you think she was afraid that she'd smell like it? SAL: Yeah, she'd smell the aroma. LINDA: So when did she work at the mill? SAL: Oh geez, it was when I was born. After I was born, actually. It could have been in the early '30s, had to be. LINDA: So who was taking care of you?17 SAL: My sisters. LINDA: What else can you tell me about her experiences at the mill? SAL: Well, other than they were known as garlic-eating Italians, women were known as garlic-eaters; that's about all I can remember. I know there were long hours. She used to leave here about half past five in the morning and start to work at six. She used to work from six to twelve I think it was, or six to one. Then come home, wash clothes. And really, there was no fancy washing machine like they have today. I still remember her with an old scrub board. LINDA: Did she ever get the washing machine with the rollers? SAL: Yeah, yeah. Old Maytag, I remember that with the rollers in the back and you feed the -- she got that… and had a wood-burning stove. And that thing used to shine, God you could see your reflection on that black [unintelligible - 00:37:20]. And that thing used to shine, and gosh it was clean. She was immaculate, my mom. She used to have a big couch, not a couch but a piece of furniture over there. The telephone would ring and she would be there. While she was on the phone she would have the rag and she was wiping it, and my father would say [unintelligible - 00:37:47] when you're dead in your box you're still going to have that rag, you're still going to be wiping and wiping. She was crazy clean. Oh God, clean. God, was she clean! LINDA: Did she expect all her kids to be clean? SAL: Yeah. LINDA: Were all the [unintelligible - 00:38:11] immaculate too? SAL: No, it's not. LINDA: Looks like it. SAL: No, never, far from it. Messy. Messy, messy, I've got to get that damn counter cleaned. LINDA: So what was life like for your sisters when they got home from school?18 SAL: They helped Mama do the cooking, wash the clothes, do the shopping. But like I said one of my sisters was the only one that had the opportunity to graduate high school. But the rest of them at 16, they all had to quit and they had to go to work. And they all did their share when they came home as far as working and housework. There was no fancy supermarkets like they are today. LINDA: So tell me, what was it like to buy groceries? SAL: There used to be a little First National store down here, First National store, okay. And then the bottom of the hill there used to be another [Gigopies] market. And you just used to buy groceries for the day, whatever you needed. The bread, they used to make their own bread. I can remember coming home and my mother having that big wooden shovel making the bread and making the dough rise. There used to be a big pan and she used to put that on there, that dough would rise up, and then the dough that was left over, she used to make pizza with it. Yeah, they used to make their own bread. LINDA: So would they make the bread for the week? In one day? SAL: Oh, yeah. Yeah. LINDA: So whose job was it to knead all the bread? SAL: She would do all that. LINDA: She would? SAL: And my sisters, too, would help her. But mostly she would do it with her flour. She used to buy flour by 50-pound sacks. LINDA: Now, did someone used to come around on a truck and sell the flour? SAL: Yeah. Then there used to be trucks that used to come around, and they used to -- I can still remember, they used to come around, they used to sell -- maybe even was -- oh, geez. There used to be -- next street over there used to be a guy that used to go around with a horse and the meat in the back, he had a covered thing and he used to sell meat. Imagine that? Unrefrigerated. With a horse. A horse-drawn cart and go around, and then maybe about once a week or twice a week there used to be trucks that 19 used to come in from Boston, and they had all kinds of Italian cheese and Italian food in these trucks, and the mother or the people would go down and go around the truck, and they'd have all these goodies that they would be selling. Cookies, Italian cookies, cheeses, olive oil. LINDA: So did they go up and down all the streets? SAL: Yeah, they would go down the street, but they would go mostly to where Italian families were. They knew where the Italian families were. There used to be a lot of Italian families here in Fitchburg at one time. Even in this area here. A lot of them. But now they've all passed away now and they're married and they're gone. LINDA: Did they used to ring a bell? How did you know they were coming? SAL: Sometimes, if they had selling dishes they used to [hit] the dishes together and you'd know they were coming, or they would lay out in the street and yell out [foreign language – 00:41:56], which meant, "chickens, chickens, chickens." They would sell chickens, too. And in those days, too, they used to sell the chickens. They weren't like going to the [unintelligible - 00:42:05] market or buy them all packaged. You had to buy them, and I remember my father on the shed, he used to take the chicken by the neck and pull it, and the poor bird would bop-bop-bop, and he'd have the hot water going, stick it in hot water right away. You had to pull all feathers off before the water got cold. That's the way they used to do it. LINDA: Did you ever learn how to do that? SAL: No, but I didn't want to learn how to do that. Put the place together while he went, and then I clean all the innards. Thank God for [unintelligible – 00:42:45]. LINDA: Did your family eat meat much? SAL: No. No. What we ate was mostly chicken, but she would cook a lot of Italian dishes. Peasant dishes. Like lentils. LINDA: Thank you. Thanks for understanding. So we were talking about cooking. What do you think about what we were talking about?20 SAL: She would make the peasant dishes. Ricotta with cheese, [unintelligible – 00:43:26] escargot, ricotta with [unintelligible - 00:43:29]. LINDA: What's that with the [unintelligible - 00:43:32]? SAL: The lentils. LINDA: Oh, lentils. SAL: Come on, Linda. Don't you understand? LINDA: I guess not. Now who made the decision to buy groceries? Who decided how much money to spend? SAL: Oh, no. Mama would do that. Mom would do that, yeah. On Friday night in Fitchburg there used to be -- on Main Street there used to be an old A&P store years ago. And Millie, who is the only one that knew how to drive then, we had a 1938 Dodge that Papa had bought then. Of course, he couldn't drive. Naturally he didn't drive, and she was the driver and she was the chauffer. And Friday nights I could still remember them, Mama and Millie, would go down to A&P and do the grocery shopping. Let's see. What else can I tell you? LINDA: Well, what about the -- I like the stories about the trucks coming in from the North End. What about ice? Do you remember ice being delivered? SAL: Yeah. Ice. There used to be an ice truck that used to come around, and then what you would do, the ice truck would stop, and we used to have iceboxes in those days, naturally. And there used to be a card that you put at the window and it was either 25, 50, 10 cents, or a nickel. In other words, if you wanted the 25-cent piece you would put that standing up, 25. Do you follow me? If you wanted a 10-cent piece then you turn the card over. And the iceman would chop a piece, put it on his back, and bring it up and put it in the icebox. And he put that -- most of it, the iceboxes were in the sheds. They used to have sheds. Do you know what a shed is? Outside of the house there used to be up on the porch, there used to be like another little, a little but no heat in there, and we put the [unintelligible - 00:45:33] stuff like that and 21 put the icebox -- we used to call it the icebox, was in there, and then there was a pail underneath for the water to drip. And sometimes if you forget to empty the pail, you would hear downstairs, they were knocking on the ceiling that the water was running down through the house. You had to empty this pail. Yeah. LINDA: So they keep it out there even in the summer? SAL: Yeah. Oh, yeah. That was the refrigeration was this icebox. LINDA: It probably wasn't very big? The icebox? SAL: Where we were living, I guess… is that too strong or what? LINDA: No, it's good. SAL: Okay. Because I make coffee too strong. LINDA: No, I like it. SAL: In the park, this man used to cut the ice. They used to cut the ice on Wayland Park, and then they used to bring it over and store it in the barn, and they used to put sawdust on it in the wintertime. That used to preserve it. In the summertime they would take the sawdust off the ice and ice was still there. It wouldn't melt. Did you know that? LINDA: No. I've heard it before. But where did they used to store it? SAL: They had a big, big shed, a big barn, and they used to store the ice in big, big cakes of ice. LINDA: Now, did the ragman come around? SAL: Yeah, the junk man would come around. The ragman. Yeah. Or the horse-drawn wagon. And if you had any rags they would sell it, pick it by weight and they used a scale, used to weigh it, and they used to give you maybe 10 or 15 cents for a bag of rags or whatever kind of junk you had. LINDA: What would they do with those rags? SAL: I have no idea. I don't know. And you would have the trucks that would come around at this time of year, all full of grape, and they would go to different places, the Italians, and the men would… I actually remember my father used to either 40-, 42-pound box of grape; maybe he'll sell it for 22 about a dollar, dollar 15 cents. Now, today, it would cost about 20, 21 dollars for the same sized box of grape. LINDA: So was that a family affair making wine? Or was it the boys? SAL: Mostly the boys. Dad and I would -- of course my brother had been… then I took over. We used to grind the grape by hand. And always my father, watch the fingers, watch the fingers, as you're grinding the grapes, all those spokes. You had the fingers stuck in there; your fingers would have been caught. But it was all done by hand. Now they have machines, a bunch of machines, dump a box in there, push the button, it's all done. LINDA: Did you keep that tradition? SAL: Yeah, I was making it up about three or four years ago, and then I had bad luck on a whole barrel of wine. I had to throw it down the sink. It went bad on me, and so I said, from now on if you want wine, go up to Kathy's Package Store. But I did. I was making my own wine, but anyway. I still make my own sausages. LINDA: Oh, you do? SAL: Yeah. LINDA: Is that a seasonal? SAL: Mostly, it's pork, but you eat in the wintertime. I don't like to eat pork in the summertime. But sausages, it's more seasonal. Like Thanksgiving and Christmas. LINDA: Have you made it yet? SAL: No but I just bought a new machine. I don't know, one of those KitchenAid machines, I just bought one of those a couple of weeks ago. LINDA: So explain to me how you make it. SAL: What, sausage? Well, you buy either the pork butt or the shoulder. Okay. You debone it, and then you take all the meat out and cut it into small pieces, and you put it through the grinder. Once you put it through the grinder, then you lay it out on the table, then you put your seasoning on it. Your fennel, salt, pepper, whatever you want for seasoning, okay? Then you put it through the grinder again, okay? Then you mix this all up, and 23 you can put wine in it if you want, then you got your casings. You know what casings are? All right. Then there's an attachment, you put the casing on there, you put the meat and you grind it up and go through the casings, and you make the sausage. LINDA: So do you freeze a lot? SAL: No. By the time you give some to this daughter, that to this guy, then some to my nephew, 20, 25 pounds disappears fast. LINDA: Now, did your mother used to make that? SAL: Oh, yeah. LINDA: So how are things different now? I'm sure she didn't have a grinder. SAL: They had a hand grinder, and I can always remember every time Mom and Dad got together to make sausage, boy, there was a war. You could hear them. LINDA: Why? About the seasoning? SAL: Oh, you're doing this wrong. You're going too fast. Watch your fingers. You don't do it this way, you do it that way. It was hell. Yeah. LINDA: So what about filling the casings though? That may have been a little harder back then? SAL: Well, it's… you've got to coincide with the one that's holding the casing and the one that's grinding it by hand. Now it's all done by electricity. It's powered. But that's the only tricky thing. As the machine is feeding the meat in the casing, you've got to make sure that you don't put too much all at once in the casing or it'll crack or break. LINDA: So probably every family has their own recipe. Sort of like meatballs. SAL: Well, I don't think anybody makes it. Very few people make their own sausages now. I know my sister Marilyn still makes it. I make it. That's about it. LINDA: What other things do you make that your mother used to make? SAL: Oh, green olives. Yeah. She used to -- this time of year, with green olives used to smash those and cure them. And pizza, naturally. Everybody 24 makes pizza. But some of her peasant dishes, once in a great while, but I was never too fond of them anyway. LINDA: No. So what about Christmas Eve, do you know? SAL: Christmas Eve, not like the ones years ago. Christmas Eve years ago was my uncle and my mother and father and all the Italians used to all get together, and they used to cook on the stove some kind of a fancy dish of fried dough, dumplings like. No more. We don't get that closeness of families anymore. LINDA: Why not? SAL: I don't know why. I think number one, there're cars. Everybody goes here, everybody goes there. I would say cars. Anyway, we used to get together years ago on holidays and Christmas. We still get together, but it's not the way it was on Christmas Eve. It's different. I'm sure it must be the same with your family, right? LINDA: Yeah. When my grandmother was growing up and even after she got married, all of her sisters lived close by. But then when they started having children, everyone moved on. SAL: That's right. That's the way it goes. From generation to generation is always different, which is good, in a way. But it's good to keep up traditions though, I think. LINDA: So have any of your daughters learned how to make the sausage? SAL: No. They wait for Daddy to call them up and say, okay, come and get your sausage. LINDA: Now, did your parents have chickens? SAL: Oh, God no. LINDA: No? Why do you say it like that? SAL: Because we lived in the neighborhood, and no, we didn't. But when we had that piece of land up there, my father used to raise pigs. I remember we had pigs, a couple of pigs, and he used to slaughter those. I remember that when I was a kid.25 LINDA: Now, what was that like? Was there a particular name of that day when people would slaughter their pigs? Would they call it anything? SAL: No. It was just at the end of the season, like at this time, winter was coming and people -- I can still remember that shed that he had with the water boiling and the poor pigs, shooting and killing the poor pigs. Thank God I don't have to go through all that anymore. LINDA: Did they use every piece of the pig? SAL: Oh, yeah. Even the squeal. Only the squeal is the only thing that you don't use on the pigs. LINDA: Oh yeah, I know. So was there a smokehouse in the area? Did anyone have one? SAL: No. Not that I remember. LINDA: What about buying groceries? Was that on credit? SAL: No, that was cash. Everything was cash. My folks, everything was cash. There was no plastic in those days. Even if there was, if they didn't have the money, the Italians, they didn't buy it. Everything was cash. LINDA: So what is this area of Fitchburg called? SAL: This section here? This is called Cleghorn. LINDA: This is? So this is really the French? SAL: It was the French district at one time, but now it's Puerto Rican and everything else. Fitchburg was in different sections. Like you had Cleghorn was the French. The patch was at 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Street. Okay. That was the Italians. Then you had Greektown. Naturally, that was the Greeks. They all stuck together. Then West Fitchburg was the English, then you have Southside, that was the Irish. LINDA: So when the Italians started moving in here, were your parents part of that group that started moving into Cleghorn? SAL: I don't know. When they left South Ashburnham, I don't know when it was, but then they moved on to Orchard Street. They lived here -- I guess a few of my sisters were born out here on Orchard Street. But I know I was the only one of the family that was born over here on Edward Street. 26 And then it was in '48, yeah, 1948 I guess it was that one of my sisters went back home. Of course, in those days the girls had boyfriends, and they wanted their boyfriends to pick them up at a nice house. So, one of my sisters saw this place over here that was for sale. And anyway, Dad would come over, and they finally looked at it and they bought it. The price that they paid for it, I just had the roof, and the roof cost me the same price. And they bought the whole house. LINDA: What was that about? Three thousand or something? SAL: They paid $11,000 for the house, and I just spent $11,000 for a new roof. LINDA: So they paid $11,000 for this, but your mother didn't want to pay $4,000 for the other house? SAL: Yeah. Because she had the money but she wasn't going to spend it. And she wouldn't spend $4,000 to have a brand new house up there. But a few years later she spent $11,000 and bought this house. LINDA: Oh, so this was bought after. SAL: Oh, yeah. After. LINDA: I see. So about the different sections in Fitchburg, was there any competition or rivalries or differences? SAL: No. No. Maybe this will be interesting. My father was here down on the bottom of the hill one day, and in those days, like the mafia, there was the Black Hand. And it was a society that was shaking down these immigrants, and they approached my father, and this guy from the Black Hand wanted $5 from my father, and my father told him, I got two kids at home, I haven't got no $5. The $5 I've got is a week's pay. I've got to feed my family. And he says, you have that money here tomorrow at a certain time, otherwise there's going to be harm that's going to come to you and your family. So in those days, my mother had boarders, and one of them was this fellow from Albany, New York. He was boardering in my father's and my mother's house, and so Papa came home and he told him. And he was 27 [unintelligible – 00:59:56]. So he told him what had happened, so this man said to my father, he says, yeah, you let me know where this guy is and what time you're supposed to meet him. And he says, I'll go to meet him. Anyway, he approached this guy and he never bothered my father anymore. LINDA: So who were these people? SAL: Black Hand. It's like a society that's like the mafia or something like that, but they were gangsters shaking down these fellow Italians. So this guy must've taken a knife and shoved it up to his throat and said you won't bother this man anymore. LINDA: Do you think it was a group living in Fitchburg? SAL: I think so. LINDA: You think so? SAL: Yeah. LINDA: Your parents would take in boarders? SAL: Yeah, she took in boarders for a while. Like men that she knew, like my father's -- like a cousin or something like that, they came to this county and they had no place to go, and where do you go? You go see your paisano, you go see your relative or brother until they get located or until they get situated, and they used to take care of these men. Cook for them, make their lunch. Mostly all the Italians would take in boarders. LINDA: So were there many paisanos living around? SAL: Oh, yeah. There was quite a few. Like I said, the work came to an end, and then a lot of them left. They went to Albany, New York. But yeah, my mother had one of her brothers living the next block over, and Dad had another brother that was a few blocks up the street [unintelligible - 01:01:50], and they grouped together. They stayed together. LINDA: Because even though there were a lot of Italians living here, some in different regions, they speak a different dialect. SAL: Oh, yeah. I was in Italy here about three years ago, I think there's about 150, 200 dialects in Italy. When I was growing up there used to be like 28 Beech Street over here that's a bunch of Italians not from Northern Italy, but once they start talking, I don't understand them. I really don't. /AT/pa/my/cy/es
Issue 34.3 of the Review for Religious, 1975. ; 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 (~ 1975 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.75. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $I1.00 for two years; olher 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 repre~nt Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor May 1975 Volume 34 Number 3 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 and books for review should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 Noah Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Models of Spiritual Direction David L. Fleming, S.J. David L. Fleming, S.J., is Co-director of the Institute of Religious Formation at the School of Divinity of St. Louis University; 3634 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Religious men and women today often find themselves in deep disagreement about the role of spiritual direction in their lives. The basic problem lies often enough in the inability to distinguish the various ways of understanding spiritual direction which have been developed in the Christian tradition. A. Models of Spiritual Direction lnspi~:ed by Father Avery Dulles' book, Models of the Church, 1 would like to propose a similar approach.to be used to better our understanding of spiritual direction. Dulles carefully makes the case that church has no single comprehensive definition, but as contemporary theology views it, church is in need of many models held simultaneously to gain a more adequate under-standing. In a similar way, I believe that we will come to a far richer apprecia-tion of spiritual direction if we consider various models which haye tried to capture what it is and how it works. The advantage of models in understanding spiritual direction, just as in working with the notion of church, arises out of the necessary obscurities of religious language and the area of religious experience. Spiritual direction deals with an ultimate level of religious mystery of a God and man love-relationship. As a result, our religious language should be looked upon as forming models because it can only approximate the object which it is trying to grasp. Whenever we use a model conception, we break the illusion that we are actually holding the infinite within the finite structures of our language. Moreover, a variety of models opens up the possibility of our not getting fixed upon any particular one and taking it as an idol. At the same time, through a 35'1 352 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 variety of models we will more easily allow for the greater expression of the subjective element which is at the core of,all religious experience. 1 will propose, then, five models of spiritual direction that are found in our Christian heritage. Spiritual direction can come in a group setting such as faith-sharing groups, small group discussions, or review-of-life groups. But here I will propose five models that deal only with personal spiritual direction, that is, one director with one being directed. For personal direction holds a privileged place in our tradition, and group activity does not eliminate its value or its need. 1 do not pretend that five models form an exhaustive list, but I think that it covers a help.ful spectrum of ideas about spiritual direction as it has come to be understood and practiced in the Church. The five models 1 have chosen are: I) direction as institutionalized; 2) direction as interpersonal relationship; 3) direction as charismatic; 4) direction as sacramental; and 5) direction as incarnational. ! will describe briefly spiritual direction as un-derstood in each of these models, touching somewhat on both the strengths of the model and the weaknesses. In trying to identify each clearly, I face the risk of caricaturing, but that is not my intention. All models should be valued and respected. I) Direction as Institutionalized Spiritual direction is institutionalized in the functions of the novice direc-tor, the designated spiritual director of a seminary, the tertian director, and sometimes the superior, especially as understood in the original role of the ab-bot or in the lgnatian idea of a superior. Direction in this model is carried out particularly by instructing in the spiritual and religious life. Spiritual direction is considered in terms of formation; it has a molding role, and so it connotes a certain control over a person's life development. Oftentimes direction in this model exercises a judgmental role because candidates for religious life or for the priesthood must be declared fit or not fit and so accepted or rejected. Spiritual direction in this designated job-form plays an important part in the Church today, just as it has in past centuries. Among the advantages of this model, the clarity of formation is assured, because the necessary instruction about spiritual development is not left to chance. Definite goals and some set means are a part of the direction ex-change, in this model, we find a certain control over the competency of the director since the "job" of direction was assigned usually by superiors who have judged a person's fittingness for such a role. From the letters of St. Paul giving direction to communities and to individuals, through the early models of direction by the desert fathers, we find deep in Christian tradition the bases of this institutional model. But a number of weaknesses are also apparent in this model. Obviously freedom is minimal in setting up the relationship of direction since the one be-ing directed must subject himself to the person whose function it is to fulfill the assigned job as director. Direction seems to be more a matter of imposition of Models of Spiritual Direction life style and spiritual practices than an evoking of personal growth. Direction also appears to be quite limited in time-value, for it covers primarily the for-mational period or, beyond that, the possible crisis period which needs infor-mation or judgment. 2) Direction as Interpersonal Relationship In this model, spiritual direction is defined primarily in terms of a per-sonal relationship--the closer the friendship the better. Direction, then, usually has the aspect of friendly sharing and loving support. While still main-taining the interpersonal basis, this model of direction sometimes makes studied use of psychological techniques, e.g. the transactional analysis methods. Even with the possibility of a certain psychological approach being consciously employed, direction attempts to focus equally upon the interper-sonal relationship of the two friends (the one directing and the one directed) and the growth in a life-response to God. Frequently in this model, the two people involved exchange roles of director with each other so that spiritual direction becomes a mutual involvement. The strengths of this model are evident in the presence of the love, care, and concern which permeate the relationship in all its aspects. As in any friendship, the free gift of self to each other is assured. Self-disclosure with all its dreams, ideals, fears, and disappointments flows very naturally as the friendship continues to deepen. While contemporary attitudes, especially in reaction to the institutional model of direction, favor this kind of approach, historically it also rests on strong evidence from the example of various saints' friendships with each other and from the written correspondence of direction. When we consider the weaknesses, we note that such a model may overstress the humanistic and so not allow for the distance between reason and grace, which never perfectly coincide. Even though in one sense friends can speak up honestly and forthrightly to each other, in another sense their lack of distance may blind each other to the very areas which need attention. Sometimes even the best of friends find that they are frozen in speaking about one or other area because of the delicacy of the love relationship between them. Another difficulty arises when psychological techniques enter into the picture too consciously; we may find a good helping relationship, but one which takes very little notice of the presence of God or the dynamism of grace. 3) Direction as Charismatic Spiritual direction in this model finds a basis in the diakrisis or discretio of St. Paul's grace-gifts within the Body of Chrigt. Because of the stress upon the special character of this person who is truly a "spiritual discerner," spiritual direction itself is seen as a rarity. St. Teresa of Avila is often quoted in support of this viewpoint because she said that only one person in a thousand is capable of direction work. Just to make the point more clearly, St. Francis de Sales is cited for his observation that a director may number only one in ten thousand. 354 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 Following the biblical image of forgiveness as seventy times seven, both saints are not using modern statistics, but rather they are indicating the special gift which is demanded of the director in spiritual direction work. For spiritual direction as understood here is defined more in terms of insight or infused in-tuition from God. Direction has an aura of the marvelous about it. The emphasis seems to focus more on the arcane directions which will be given to the person directed--special divine messages which come from the "reading of a soul" by the inspired director. The strengths of such a view certainly include the great stress made upon the gift-notion of spiritual direction. Direction in this model catches up two people in the atmosphere of the divine, and the process receives its proper emphasis of being more than human technique and human response, it does point up that a "seeing deeper" with the eyes of faith highlights the relationship of direction. There is a certain basis in both the Old and New Testament, and some examples in Christian hagiography to support such a viewpoint. The weaknesses become apparent in the over-significance attributed to the power of God's grace--looking for its presence only in the spectacular or the marvelous. It seems to restrict God's gifts far too much to the extraordinary in the light of human judgment. As a result, spiritual direction itself becomes an extraordinary means in the life of the Church spiritual tradition. But the history of spirituality does not support this conclusion. 4) Direction as Sacramental Spiritual direction has long been seen in terms of a sacramental model because of the confessor-penitent relationship in the sacrament of penance. Because of the sacramental grace of priestly ordination, the priest himself was seen to be a very special instrument of God and to embody the gifts of ministry which we find in the writings of St. Paul. The words which a priest speaks, then, have greater importance than mere human opinion or advice because they are spoken by God's human representative. More particularly, within the sacrament of penance the priest-confessor often has words of advice or counsel. This context becomes the only true setting of spiritual direction because of the certain ex opere operato effect of words spoken within the sacramental encounter. Such counsel within the context of the sacrament takes in, not just the area of sinful tendencies, but all the attitudes and ways of acting which relate to the God-orientation of a person's life. The advantages of this model include the emphasis given to a more balanced sense of the sacrament of penance. Confession itself is not a mechanistic forgiveness; it has a human relationship involved between the priest-representative of the Church and the penitent. There is no doubt that God-inspired words of counsel or advice do take place in the sacramental con-text. Yet as every priest knows experientially, such words cannot be presumed automatically--one flagrant handicapping of God's action being the prepared Models of Spiritual Direction / 355 little "sermon" which each penitent, no matter what he may confess, may receive on a particular Saturday confession period. But two-human beings, so consciously aware of the special presence of God in the sacramental relationship, are both more readily open to the word of God being spoken and being received. The merit of this viewpoint rests upon a long tradition stem-ming from the penitential manuals of the Irish monks of the eighth century to the more contemporary confession manuals dating from the seventeenth cen-tury in which direction brings a fullness to and finds its proper setting in the sacrament of penance. The weaknesses of such a model are found in the restrictions which it puts upon spiritual direction itself. Because of the sacramental setting, a priest is the only qualified spiritual director. Direction, then, flows properly from the ministry of priesthood. If other men and women carry on this work, it is only as "secondary" helpers to the priest who gives over to them this function. This viewpoint seems to take for granted that priesthood ministry inclu.des all the ministries to be found within the Church, but this conception has no sound basis in scripture or tradition. Direction in this model also takes on too magical a sense in that whatever is said within the context of the sacrament becomes true spiritual counsel. 5) Direction as Incarnational This model of direction is one that is probably receiving most attention to-day in the revival of the practice of spiritual direction. The name incarnational given to describe it calls a little too ostentatiously to the Christian connotation of God-becoming-man. Spiritual direction takes it place among the many "fleshly" means which make up God's ordinary way of salvation as un-derstood in Christianity. From Jesus Christ through the Apostles down to our own contemporary Church, we know that God has a design of salvation mediated by our fellowmen. Direction, then, is seen in its ordinariness of one man helping another to clarify and objectify God's will in his life. At the same time, direction is known to be a relationship of two persons caught up in the presence and power of God in this very ordinary encounter, and so both are aware by faith of the privileged grace-time which direction makes available. Elements which are present in the incarnation of the God-man have their analogous components in the direction relationship. Human preparation, faith, and an openness to the movement of God are necessary, and then a recognition that any true fruition of the direction relationship comes from the Spirit. This model of direction is also properly identified as incarnational in that no aspect of a person's life is left apart from the direction context, since man as a whole--physically, psychologically, and spiritually--must grow in his response to God's unique call to him. The advantages of this model are especially seen in terms of the developments of our own day. It presents a conceptual notion of direction that is deeply in tune with the whole process of renewal in the Church. It builds 356 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 upon the richness of contemporary scriptural and theological studies, par-ticularly in the areas of Christology and Ecclesiology. It maintains a sure emphasis on the humanness of this relationship in direction, while still placing the solidity of growth as a God-empowered gift. Direction in this model is an ordinary means of spiritual growth in the embodied spirituality which is Christianity. This way of understanding direction has good foundation in both scripture and tradition since we find God acting through men in giving advice and warning (e.g. Jeremiah), in making a person aware of how to listen to God (e.g. Samuel and Saul), in clarifying and objectifying a response (e.g. David and Nathan), and in instruction (e.g. Ananias and Paul). The example con-tinues in the many volumes of spiritual writings and letters which we have as a legacy from holy men and women in our Catholic history. The weaknesses of this model arise somewhat from the novelty of its recent re-emphasis. It may too easily be seen as a good human relationship sprinkled over with pious words about God's will. Direction may look so ordinary that the only conclusion to be drawn is that everyone needs it and is capable of profiting from it and just about everyone has the ability to give direction. Then, too, taking in the whole of one's life as the subject-matter seems to leave this model of direction open to a lack of preciseness--no clear understanding of the concerns of direction or the ways of going about it. In a similar way, direction seems to lack clarity about the quality of this spiritual relationship--mixing friendship and distance or professionalism, and or-dinariness and the sense of the holy. B. A Model of Models? In review, all the models have played and do play an important part in our full understanding of spiritual direction--what it is, who does it, to whom it has value, how to go about it, and so on. What 1 hope to have shown is that we can understand spiritual direction in various ways (not just one right way), and that as a result there are various expectations on the part of the director and the one being directed, various methods of directing, and even different ways of valuing its importance for mature spiritual life. To try to reduce the various models of spiritual direction to a single one is to lose sight of the incomprehensible richness of religious experience which forms the content of direction. Neither the strengths nor the weaknesses of the various approaches or models are neatly reducible to a single model. Even after describing each model in its purity, we should be aware that a blending often happens in ~ictual praciice. What we tend to do is to make one model our pivotal model for adapting and understanding other ways of functioning in spiritual direction. But to hold one model as pivotal is quite different from maintaining that there is only one way of understanding and practicing spiritual direction. If I were to opt for a pivotal model for our own day, 1 would choose direc-tion described as incarnational. I believe that it allows for a greater understand-ing of the continuing importance of spiritual direction, especially for the men Models ojSpiritual Direction / 3!i7 and women who have recognized or who are in the process of recognizing the call to specialized ministry roles within the Church. It also more easily allows for the importance of other understandings of direction and other methodologies according to circumstances, though it maintains an adequacy for its own method as a common pattern. Far more work must still be done to gain .an appreciation of the richness which we possess in the Christian practice of spiritual direction. Presently, to be able to hold the different models of direction in tension allows us to draw a little closer to a more adequate truth and a more varied beauty which encompass the mystery of spiritual direction ministry. Creative Response To A Call Within "The Call" Sister Marie Gatza, I.H.M. Sister Marie Gatza, I.H.M., participated in the Workshop of National Vocation Directors which met at Mercy Center in Farmington, Michigan, during the summer of 1974. She is Assistant General of the Sisters Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary; Saint Mary Convent; Monroe, Michigan 48161. The area of "Transfer," is, I am told, fast becoming a matter of concern among Vocation Directors. In the past, there have been rare instances of transfers centered mostly on permissions given to leave an active for a con-templative congregation, a less strict order for a stricter one. However, the topic of "Transfer" is a relatively recent new-comer among religious life con-cepts within Congregations of women in the United States, and so not too much has yet made its way into current literature. Opportunities to learn more about the idea of "Transfer,'" "therefore, come best through situations like the workshop of Vocation Directors at Mercy Center in Farmington where during the Summer of 1974, I had the privilege of contributing the ideas developed in this essay. In trying to think how I could most effectively focus the concentration of workshop members on the topic of"Transfer," 1 found that four key questions readily surfaced: I. Why would a Sister desire to leave her parent Congregation? 2. What factors greatly influence the thinking of Sisters in their search for a Congregation into which they can transfer? 3. What motivation would impel a Congregation to welcome into its membership a Sister who has already finalized her commitment in another Congregati6n? 358 Creative Response to a Call Within "The Call" / 359 4. Given mutuality on the part of the Sister to enter and of the Congrega-tion to receive, what procedural steps are basic to achieving the transfer of a Sister from one Congregation to another? I would like to treat each of these questions, now, in some detail. Then in addition to these four questions, it seems well to attend, even briefly, to the beginnings of evaluation of the concept of "Transfer" as we perceive it operating today within religious Congregations. I Why do Sisters feel convinced that they must leave the Congregation in which they pronounced Perpetual Vows? Because the reasons given by each of the Sisters cited here are so in-dividual, it would not be wise--or even possible--for me to generalize in response to this question. What we can do, however, is to take some mini-glimpses into the lives of a few Sisters who saw "Transfer" as vital to the continuance of their religious commitment. From them we may learn that the motives which led Sisters to request transfer are many and varied. My first example is SISTER P who had been for almost twenty years a member.of a cloistered Congregation, which recently, as a matter of entering into renewal of Religious life, permitted coursework for its Sisters on the cam-puses of nearby Catholic colleges. Sister P was greatly enthusiastic about her opportunity for college education, and discovered that she had a gift for and a great desire to impart knowledge to others in a classroom situation. She found the world of apostolic teaching increasingly fascinating, and at the same time was aware of a persistent questioning within herself as to whether she was really fitted for, or any longer drawn to the contemplative life, despite the years she had already spent within it. She asked for a leave of absence in order to test out her vocation in a Congregation whose main apostolic thrust is education. SISTER N became a candidate in the Congregation of her choice after completing secondary school, and entered, with apparent enthusiasm, into full-scale studies toward becoming a teacher in the Congregation's apostolate of education. Toward the end of nearly twenty years of service in various schools, and maintaining only love and reverence for her own active congregation, she felt the persistent call of the Lord to continue'her religious life in a more con-templative setting. Her transfer to a contemplative community was, therefore, effected. SISTER T's story is a second testimonial to the fact that transfer is a two-way proposition: some come, others go. 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 Sister T, brilliantly endowed intellectually, chose to transfer from the original foundation Motherhouse of her congregation to one of its branches. Her choice for this action seemed to be motivated by the fact that the style and tempo of that community much more surely encompassed her thoughts on renewal in religious life than did that of her own Congregation. When SISTER S first came into contact with the congregation into which she ultimately transferred, she was in her early thirties, and had already been questioning her current situation in religious life. Sister S's diocesan Com-munity consisted of only thirty-four, mostly older members, who in Sister's es-timation had not sufficient theological background to enable them to cope with renewal. At the offset, Sister's motivation for approaching another religious con-gregation was primarily one of a desire to earn her degree. In the course of completing her studies, she came into close contact with the life-style of the faculty, Sisters who were her peers in the Juniorate, and a number of other Sisters belonging to the Congregation which staffed her college. At gradua-tion, Sister realized that the determination to transfer was still much alive within her, and took a most natural next-step: seek transfer permanently to that congregation. SISTER G, educated in elementary an'd secondary schools staffed by Sisters dedicated primarily to education, chose to enter another congregation whose apostolate included social work, for which she felt-a strong inclination. Ironically, at the time she requested entry into religious life, the congregation of her choice was in great need of teachers rather than of social workers, and so, Sister G was educated for the teaching field, a profession in which, however, she learned to find joy and satisfaction. After 19 years in community, Sister G's mother became ill and was in desperate need of her help. Sister appealed to her Provincial, requesting to live and teach with the group of Sisters in the town where her mother's home was located, a move that enabled her to be closer to her mother. Because Sister G's congregation at the time did not approve of inter- Congregational living situations, she was required to take a leave of absence in order to'care for her mother. Sister's two years of leave were painful ones for her in that she felt an absence of support from her Congregation, and grew in-creasingly concerned that her request to care for her mother in this way had displeased her former superiors. A sense of disappointment,-discouragement and alienation resulted. Meanwhile, her conviction of being at home and loved in her temporary living situation became more compelling, and Sister's thoughts focused on the advisability of asking for a transfer. Her present status 'is one of preparing to finalize her commitment to the Lord in her new Congregation. SISTER M is a promising young Ph.D., gifted as well with an unusually Creative Response to a Call Within "The ('all" / 361 strong sense of commitment to religious life, and a very real love and loyalty to her own Congregation. Sister M's reason for seeking transfer is expressed clearly in this sentence taken from one of her letters: "I am reluctant to make this transfer, but have found peace of mind with the decision, since affiliation with the community, ¯ promises greater freedom to respond to the heart of my religious vocation and to the needs of the Church as ! understand them." Interestingly, Sister M is at the present moment making one last effort to work things out with her own Congregation. I do not know whether or not her transfer will materialize. These examples, though few, indicate that reasons for thinking of transfer are much conditioned by a variety of circumstances in which Sisters find themselves. I1 What considerations greatly influence the thinking of Sisters in their search for a specific Congregation into which they would hope to transfer? I suppose that it would be next to impossible to make a comprehensive listing of the factors influencing Sisters in their search for another Congrega-tion in which they can live out the religious cohamitment already begun in the first, their parent Congregation. It is my experience that most Sisters who are interested in a possible transfer express in some way a feeling of affinity with the "new" Congrega-tion, and a supportiveness toward its thrust in Renewal. Where a House of Prayer has developed, for example, many Sisters relate very positively to the significance accorded this growing movement in the Christian life of our day, and are attracted by the centrality of importance accorded to both personal and communal prayer. Again, a basic belief in, and an inner assurance of, competency in relation to the apostolate of the new Congregation seems to enter significantly into a Sister's choice of a Community to which she might like to transfer. Sometimes, style Of living is an important consideration. A person's contact in childhood with the elected Congregation, that is, in elementary or secondary school years, or contact with members of a given Congregation in adult years may influence the Sister'.s decision to opt for one Congregation rather than another, if a transfer is sought. Occasionally, a more insightful approach is brought to the resolution of this question, i.e. "which Congregation?" ! recall, for example, a Sister who had entered religious life as an Aspirant after completing the eighth grade. Twelve years later, having pronounced perpetual vows, Sister asked to be ex-claustrated from her Congregation for the purpose of searching out whether religious life should c~ntinue to be her life-style. Her searching she did under direction, concluding that, yes, religious life was, indeed, what the Lord was :362 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 calling her to live; bt~t not, however, within the Congregation she had entered. After asking herself what it was within the spirit and heritage of her own Congregation that had been most helpful and inspirational to her, really at the heart of her vocation, Sister contacted better than a.dozen Congregations ask-ing for brochures. These she studied for indications of the traits that best em-bodied the spirit of the Congregation in which she had made her vows. In the end, it was the Congregation which she thought did this best that she ap-proached asking for a transfer. But whatever the method used, or whatever the degree of logic or clearness of purpose perceived by the Sister considering transfer, I believe it is fairly safe to say that the seeker is hopeful of finding in the new Congregation cir-cumstances that will be favorable for her living, in some rewarding way, a commitment which means very much to her; circumstances which for some reason or other may have been painfully absent in her life in Community up to this point. III What would be the motivation of a Congregation which welcomes as a new member o fits own a Sister who has already lived under permanent profession within another Congregation? First off, let's clarify one point beyond any confusion. There is probably small encouragement in the Church for supporting transfer at all. The nature of religious commitment, as it has been historically understood and accepted, i.e., "Community", "family", "leader-followers" concepts, argues for permanency within the parent Congregation. We have learned to speak of the "charism" of a Congregation: that unique spirit that characterizes a group of Sisters as a religious Congregation. Although it is hard to put one's fingers on exactly what it is that distinguishes one Congrega-tion from another, no one will deny that there is a certain something, a family bond or spirit which is recognizable to the members, and, to an appreciable ex-tent, able to be detected by outsiders, as well. In some effective way, it seems that the act of transferring from one Congregation to another has to take this matter of Community-charism into consideration. Granting this fact, even slight reflection leads to the conviction that transfer is not an action one opts to pursue lightly when life's more adven-turous movements taper, off into routine. No. To transfer from one's Congregation to another can result in virtually total uprooting, loss of friends, and severance from all that has been familiar for the individual. Should transfer become a more.common pr~actice, we could anticipate con-sequences for the parent Congregation, also. Loss of morale within the ranks, and diminished confidence in the Community outlook and thrust on the part of many of the members can develop exceedingly fast, as we have all learned through our own decrease in numbers sustained in recent years. Creative Response to a Call Within "'The Call" / 363 These considerations being so, a large number of transfers could hardly be thought desirable. One might ask, then, why do leaders of Congregations entertain the idea of transfer at all? Their motivation has to arise from a basic reverence for each individual call to religious life, and a desire to support a fellow Sister in her efforts to re-main faithful to her vocation, even if it means a painful re-planting. Those sup-porting transfer would have to act from a willingness and desire: a. to provide for a Sister some "time" and "space" away from her Congregation in which she can be free to sort out priorities while still being basically observant of the life style of a religious, -or-b. to provide a Sister with an opportunity to embrace the life and mission of a new Congregation for the sake of remaining faithful to her commit-ment to Christ, when it becomes apparent that she can no longer achieve this end within her own Congregation, -or much more rarely, willingness to engraft upon one's own Congregation (as was recently the case within a diocesan group in one of our Eastern States) a whole Com-munity of Sisters when a basic similarity of spirit, or charism prevails in the two Congregations in question. These thoughts indicate in some way, why a Congregation is sometimes willing to accept Sisters asking for a transfer. IV Given a Sister who believes she needs to have a new setting in which to continue living her religious vocation, and given a Congregation willing to think of her as a potential new member of its own, what must be done? The essentials are not too numerous, in my .experience. a. Willingness of the General Superiors of both Congregations to allow and welcome the fact of a transfer, is undoubtedly, of the essence. b. Some good help provided the Sister in discerning whether transfer is, in-deed, the Lord's will for her seems essential too. c. And, of course, proper transactions with Rome are required for the ob-taining of the needed "paper"--the Rescript of Transfer. Of these three, the step which admits of many specifics is the second one; the discernment process. Taking more time than not enough at this point, and being free to meet the individual needs of the Sister is a matter that must 364 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 receive priority at all costs. The space of a year, or more, can very profitably be employed in initially resolving the question of whether it would be mutually advantageous to bring about a transfer, and then of building a readiness for a transfer which is directed to future personal and apostolic fruitfulness for the Sister and for her new Congregation. In my Congregation, which has been open to requests of Sisters to transfer, dealing with Sisters who are thinking about this possibility is a work delegated to the Assistant of the General Superior. It is her responsibility as contact per-son to keep the General Superior and Provincials aware of the Sister's progress at stated times throughout the year. It is also understood that the contact person in some suitable way perform the following duties in re to the Sister seeking to transfer: I. The Contact person enables the Sister to find a situation in which she will live and work among her new Sisters as an actual member of her own Congregation for at least one year before any formal request is made to Rome. During this year a two-way evaluation is on-going: on the part of the Sister who is acquainting herself with the new Com-munity; and on the part of the chosen Community which tries to ask honestly: "Can our Congregation assist this Sister in her living of a healthy religious life and further our Community interests as well by welcoming her into our midst?" 2. The Contact person makes efforts to assist the Sister to become familiar with the members of the elected Community and their life-st'yle, Constitutions, prayer, Community history, and so on. 3. She arranges a realistic and practical system of contacts by means of which she herself, will keep in close contact with the possible transfer- Sister throughout the year. 4. It is her responsibility to establish, as well, during the year, some means of contacting the Sisters residing with Sister-transfer to see how they in-teract with her and she with them. 5. The Contact person may significantly assist her Superior in preparing the portfolio of materials needed to formalize the transfer at Rome, and within both Congregations of Sisters. 6. She enters into facilitating plans for the liturgical celebration marking completion of transfer. 7. She, finally, keeps files current: documents, letters, various com-munications. These suggestions form'at least a working outline of practical steps that will take on significance during the discernment period, especially. Here, then, are some thoughts on each of the four questions presented in the beginning of this essay. I have shown that transfer from one Congregation to another is possible; and while certainly not giving the last word on how it can come about, I have indicated the outline of a procedure for a starter. With Creative l~,esponse to a Call Within "The Call" / 365 all of this, ~owever, there is a yet unasked, but key question that must be sur-faced: I When all the externals and!formalities of the transfer have been com-pleted; when the document~ have been validated; when the ceremonial commemorating the event l~as become a matter of history, it still seems imperative to ask: Did a transfer really occur? Is it possible for a person to sink permanent roots in new soil twice in the space of a single, human lifetime? What sort of on-going~considerations would have to be borne in mind by the "new" community and satisfactorily dealt with by the transferred Sister so that she will not: -- be constantly lone!y? -- be often lacking in ~nderstanding because her past is so foreign in many ways fro~ the past of those with whom she now lives? -- be many times Iook~ing backward to a chapter of her life which is largely unsharable with others and now closed even to herself?, These questions--very real and, sometimes, harsh, lead one, unerringly to the ultimate question: "For h~w many can transfer really be an alternative'?" This presentation really c~uld end with the question 1 have just posed. Ho ever, as a kind of epilog~te, let me ask one further: w'what would happen were it possible for a Sister to live within another Congregation on an extended leave until such time arrived at which she could return in dignity an~ peace and joy to her own Congregation?" Might not this be an unusu~ai service of love that a Congregation could ex-tend not only to an individual ~eligious, but to its Sister-Congregation, as well? it's worth a thought! I Integrity in the Religious Life Sister Mary John Mananzan, O.S.B. Sister Mary John Mananzan is attached to St. Scholastica's College; 2560 Leon Guinto, Sr. St.; P.O. Box 3153; Manila, Philippines. There are virtues which are so all-encompassing that one can explain the other facets of religious life through them. It is not infrequent to explain religious life primarily through one of the vows--(of poverty, of chastity, and obedience) or primarily as a life of love and from there explain all its other features. One such encompassing virtue which, however, is rarely used to view religious life, is integrity. And it is not infrequent that religious people who ex-hibit m~iny external manifestations of virtue can be lacking in integrity. This lack of integrity .can be so subtle that such religious people become a real problem to honest but simple people who deal with the.m. These cannot put their .finger to a particular fault but somehow .they feel something is wrong somewhere. This article will try to analyze situations that exhibit the presence of integrity or the lack of it particularly in the religious life. Integrity is a many-faceted word. Its nuances encompass different but related levels of meaning--from honesty to wholeness of being. But all along this spectrum of meaning runs a single beam that relates them to each other, namely TRUTH. Integrity describes the many aspects of being true. That is why it is a basic virtue. Without it all other seeming virtues are a show and the lack of it makes any manifested virtue suspect. The most basic meaning of the word is "wholeness" or oneness. A religious who is a "whole" is one who has achievi~d a certain harmony in his being, which presupposes a basic self-understanding and self-acceptance. Further-more he has a certain sense of reality and a coherent system of values which form the framework for this authentic self-awareness. Most religious tend to mature intellectually before they do emotionally and morally. There is thus a Integrity in the Religious LiJ~" / certain incongruence and inconsistency in their life. They can give very good lectures, sermons, or write beautiful articles about behaviour, attitudes or vir-tues which can be sadly lacking in their lives. The catching up of one's emotion and one's will with one's insight is a progressive growth in integrity and wholeness. This tendency of the earlier maturation of the intellect may explain the expert way religious.can rationalize actions which deep in their heart they feel guilty about. Laymen can be more honest about their faults than many religious because they don't need to live up to an image. Religious on the other hand have to live up to the imperatives that rule their lives--the imperative to perfection, the imperative to excellence, the imperative to fidelity, the im-perative to unselfishness, the imperative to sacrifice, etc. There is thus a ground for varying degrees of hypocrisy in the religious life ranging from unconscious inconsistency, through semi-conscious in-congruence to alarming schizophrenic tendencies. In this connection, one can look at the crisis of celibacy today as the crisis of integrity. Celibacy can be viewed as the virtue of integrity par excellence. The fact that physical integrity is a sign of virginity is a significant symbol of the main characteristic of celibacy which is personal wholeness. Lived celibacy is not just renunciation but it is at the same time a fulfillment--namely the coming together of heart, mind, body in a singleness of purpose of serving God and being wholly there for others. Any religious who has had a crisis of celibacy must have undergone the literally heart-rending experience of being drawn to two poles--to the demand of the religious life and to the preoccupa-tion with the person with whom one is emotionally involved. Even without indulging in sexual relationships this inner splitting of one's heart threatens one's integrity as a religious. Sooner or later one will reach a critical point which can result in two ways: It can result in a greater wholeness, in a greater integrity due to a conscious re-direction of one's being to one's religious commitment or to a totally new way of life. But it can also lead to disintegration in one who refuses to heal the dichotomy of his heart. At this point all the other forms of lack of integrity will come in--justification, dis-simulation, outright deceit. The more clever the religious the more ingenious the rationalization. The whole of theology can be overhauled to justify the in-fidelity of the human heart, In those who have come to the point of indulging in sexual relationships, the element of passion comes in which blinds them to an almost unbelievable degree. It is not just a matter of moral disintegration that ensues; it can mean a disintegration of pe~sonality. Whole articles can be written about the so-called "third way." Here, only its effect on one's integrity has been discussed. Less dramatic but nevertheless harmful forms of lack of integrity can be found among religious. Where positions of power are held, there certain danger to one's integrity is present. As has already been said, the imperatives of the religious life conditions the failings of religious to be less glaring, less gross, more subtle, more refihed, and consequently more insidious. One can, 361~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 for example develop a way of manipulating facts to serve one's purposes, it is not a matter of downright deception or lie but a way of leaving out facts or choosing them or presenting just an angle of them in order to get what one wants. One cannot put a finger on any downright falsified item but the whole thing is a lie nevertheless. The manipulation of reality can be so subtle that only the most clever can see through the whole scheme and yet ordinary people have an uneasy feeling about it. A more serious form of this lack of integrity is the manipulation of people. It is bad enough to manipulate facts, it is worse to manipulate people. There are clever persons who can play on the weaknesses and strength of other people to their advantage. When one has a project all wiles will be exerted to manipulate people into it. This can lead to sickening forms of "false sweetness," to borrow from the little girl who transformed the 8th commandment into--"Thou shal( not bear false sweetness against thy neighbor." For a positive treatment of integrity, one has to go back to the basic mean-ing given earlier in the article, namely--wholeness. There is in the religious who has achieved a certain amount of integrity, a certain consistency and con-gruence which gives his personality an identifiable core. This gives him a cer-tain reliability and trustworthiness lacking in "shifty" personalities. One. knows where one stands with him. One is aware of encountering someone who remains what he essentially is in differing circumstances. He is real! This solid ¯ reality of his personality is, moreover, transparent, not made opaque by masks, pretensions, dissimulations, or defenses. He is by this very fact vulnerable, because he does not change color like a chameleon or become elusive like an eel. Therefore his weak points are apparent and open to attack. But even this vulnerability is an asset because it is what makes him at home with all men. The link that binds human beings is most often their capacity to be hurt rather than their invulnerability, their common misery rather than the superiority or achievement which set some apart from others, It is a vulnerability that survives being pierced without falling apart. The process of personality integration is an on-going one. A person who has reached a certain degree of integrity continues to make experiences which are to be integrated into his personality if they are to become meaningful to him. One's integrity when one's world is still relatively simple is qualitatively (not only in degree) different from that which one has achieved after going' through major life experiences. There are experiences that are more easily in-tegrated than others because of their familiarity and relative lack of impor-tance. Utterly new experiences, shattering or overwhelming ones are more dif-ficult to integrate. These can cause crisis situations. A person of integrity however, can undergo the most serious crisis, even one caused by his own failings and therefore incurring real guilt without suffering a personality dis-integration. He somehow arises from the ruins battered but whole. He is able to integrate even these negative experiences into his life making him richer and. even more whole because of the confirmation of the links that unite his per-sonality. Integrity in the Religious Life / 369 This is probably the reason why religious who sense an inner integrity in their being tend to take more risks and are less bound by conventions or legalistic observance of rules. They have a sure instinct for what is right, what is true, what is demanded by a situation, what is false or genuine in people they live with. Because of all these, they enjoy an inner freedom which makes them more creative and innovative in the living of their religious commitment. Reprints from the Review "The Confessions of Religious Women" by Sister M. Denis, S.O.S. (25 cents) "Institutional Business Administration and Religious" by John J. Flanagan, S.J., and James I. O'Connor, S.J. (20 cents) "Authority and Religious Life" by J. M. R. Tillard, O.P. (20 cents) "The Death of Atheism" by Rene H. Chabot, M.S. (20 cents) "The Four Moments of Prayer" by John R. Sheets, S.J. (25 cents) "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation" by the Congreg~ition for Religious (35 cents) "Meditative Descriptiori of the Gospel Counsels" (20 cents) "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer" by Herbert Francis Smith, S.J. (25 cents) "Religious Life in the Mystery of the Church" by J. M. R. Tiilard, O.P. (30 cents) "Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits" by John R. Sheets, S.J. (30 cents) "Consciousness Examen" by George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. (20 cents) "Retirement or Vigil?" by Benedict Ashley, O.P. (25 cents) "Celibacy and Contemplation" by Denis Dennehy, S.J. (20 cents) "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat" by Herbert F. Smith, S.J. (20 cents) "The Healing of Memories" by Francis Martin (20 cents) Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Religious Government: A Reflection On Relationships Sister Doris Gottemoeller, R.S.M. Sister Doris Gottemoeller, R.S.M., whose reflections here have grown out of her experience with the nine provinces of the Sisters of Mercy as well as conversations with members of many other congregations, resides at the Generalate of the Sisters of Mercy; 10000 Kentsdale Drive: P.O.,Box 34446; West Bethesda, Maryland 20034. The renewal of religious life inaugurated by Vatican II required the adaptation of every aspect of that life, both external practices and internal attitudes. One of the most readily observable of these external areas is that of religious government, the network of structures which regulate the interrelationships of members and groups within a community. If the revitalization of communities in the light of Gospel vision and community charism was to occur, the Council saw that it had to be done in the light of the "physical and psychological con-ditions of today's religious," "the needs of the apostolate, the requirements of a given culture, (and) the social and economic conditions everywhere."' More particularly, the Council specified that the way in which communities are governed had to be re-examined in the light of these same standards.~ In order for renewal to truly involve and touch each member of a com-munity, structures had to be altered in order to create channels for each in-dividual voice. Moreover, the spirit of collegiality and subsidiarity which enlivened the Council itself implied the necessity for structures of participative decision-making within other Church groups, such as dioceses, parishes, and religious communities. Before renewal began, role definitions of officials in religious communities (e.g., major superiors, councilors, local superiors) had 'Vatican Council II, Perfectae Caritatis. no. ~. ~lbid. 370 Religious Government." A Reflection on Relationships / 37"1 ¯ provided predictable patterns of decision-making. Furthermore, little revision of rule or policy was required from year to year in an era when lack of change was valued as a sign of strength; constitutions and custom books provided guidelines for every situation, whether of great or trivial importance. With the recognition of the need for on-going adaptation, however, structures had to be altered to provide for on-going participation in the vision-building and direction-setting of a community by every member of that community. Not only was widespread grassroots participation needed for the successful carry-ing out of the special general chapters which inaugurated adaptation, but government plans had to be tailored to allow for continuing involvement in the affairs of the community. At least five years have elapsed since this work began, and some obser-vations can be offered as the fruit of a backwards glance over those years. The remarks which follow can be characterized as insights gleaned from observing the efforts of many communities to re-structure their governments into more responsive and responsible models. They are reflections on the phenomena--not evaluations from a religious or a theological point of view. This work of evaluation is certainly called for, but first we must form a good idea of what is happ.ening before we probe further. The following observations apply to representative bodies, to administrative groups, and to the methods whereby leadership is selected. Representative Bodies The ultimate authority in a religious community has always been vested in its general chapter. Accordingly the efforts to update communities had to begin here in a twofold sense: the chapter itself had to be updated as an instru-ment of leadership and then it, in turn, had the responsibility to inaugurate change in every Other aspect of community life. To this end communities modified their chapters in various ways and, in some cases, supplemented them with other representative groups described variously as assemblies, boards, and congresses. All .of these representative bodies are discussed together here, because certain observations can be made which pertain to all of them. Therefore, in the paragraphs which follow, "chapter" is used to refer to any representative body with responsibility to and for an entire religious in-stitute or a large portion thereof, e.g., a province. I. Most representative bodies have been made truly representative. Great progress has been made here, in the sense that chapters are no longer con-trolled by a preponderance of ex-officio delegates. In most cases the size of the group has been expanded and communities have been diligent in trying to bring together a genuine cross section of the congregation--diversified as to age, apostolic experience, community experience, and geographic location (in instances where a community is widespread). One thing we have learned here, however, is that this effort has its own inherent limitations, in the sense that to specify the configuration of the delegate group too particularly may arbitrarily 372 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 limit the freedom of the community members to have the representatives of their choice. In other words, suitable chapter delegates are not always or necessarily found in equal proportions in each geographic region or age group. 2. A distinction between the chapter and other non-legislative representative groups is not always viable in practice. This observation applies to those com-munities which have created an additional representative group to serve in the interim between chapter sessions in an advisory .capacity to the administrative group (major superior and council). The composition of this new group usually overlaps, to a large extent, the chapter membership, so a certain confusion of roles and responsibilities results. As chapter members, while the chapter is in session, the delegates have dominative authority over the affairs of the in-stitute or province. As assembly members, however, the delegates have only a consultative function. However, a crisis of confidence in the leadership of the administrative group would soon develop if they overrode or ignored the con-sidered judgment of the assembly very often. So, in practice, the assembly becomes, effectively, legislative or policy-making. Also, assembly members would soon lose interest in serving in that capacity if the matters submitted to them were not of real significance and/or if their judgments were not adopted and implemented by the administrative group. Therefore, the tendency is for such assemblies to either develop a quasi-legislative function or else to be con-sistently frustrated by the ineffectiveness of their role. The question must be asked, though, how many significant agenda items are t~ere which should receive the attention of a broad-based chapter group? It would seem that on many issues the administrative group would profit more from consultation with a more specialized committee within the community, such as the representatives of one particular area of apostolic service, than from the broad-based consultation which a chapter can provide. 3. The frequency with which the group meets is more significant than whether or not it is defined as legislative. If the group meets frequently (e.g., as often as bi-monthly, or even quarterly), there is a tendency on the part of the ad-ministrative group to submit a comparatively larger number of items to its consideration and to defer action even on relatively noncontroversial issues un-til after consultation with the chapter or assembly. Thus there is the possibility of paralyzing the activity and initiative of the administrative group, or at least of weakening their effectiveness as a leadership group. Major superiors may hesitate to make any personal creative approach to a problem or issue without submitting it to a chapter 'referendum.' In some cases this is by design: the administrative group is conceived of as the executive arm of the chapter which, in a sense, retains ordinary authority in the community. If this is patterned on the federal government's model of separation of powers, it fails to take account of the fact that the executive and legislative arms of the federal government are (ideally!) separate but equal and, furthermore, are counterbalanced by the judicial arm. If it is patterned on the model of the relationship between a board of trustees and administrators Religious Government: A Reflection on Relationships / :373 who are responsible to the board, then it should be noted that trustees or-dinarily entrust a large amount of ordinary authority to their administrators. If the administrators abuse that trust, they are replaced by the trustees, but the latter are not involved in the administration per se of the institution. One ques-tion which a community which adopts this "strong chapter/weak ad-ministrator" model must ask itself is to what extent the chapter members are willing to prepare themselves to consider and to involve themselves in a succes-sion of varied problems and issues. Too frequent meetings also may have the unfortunate effect of discourag-ing otherwise qualified community members from serving as delegates. Once this occurs the moral authority of the chapter is subtly undermined because the community senses that somehow serving as a delegate is not a priority respon-sibility and that the composition of the delegate body does not reflect the 'first choice' of the members of the community. 4. Chapter authority is weakened by confusion over its function. Formerly the understanding of what chapter delegates were to do was quite clear and recognized throughout the community. Ordinarily general chapter meetings coincided with the election of the major superior and other officials, and this task was the primary responsibility of the delegates: In addition to this elective function, the delegates knew they had legislative authority. However, in the pre-Vatican Ii era little change was expected or seemingly desired. Therefore the responsibility for this legislative function did not weigh too heavily on the delegates. Beginning with the special general chapters, however, the whole situation changed, and the legislative aspect assumed great prominence. Chapters vir-tually legislated anew on every aspect of religious life, even to the extent of abrogating their former constitutions almost in toto. Since that time com-munities have been using interim constitutions and chapter decrees in place of their former constitutions. The changes reflected in these documents, of course, could not be effected by simply promulgating them: on-going develop-ment had to take place in order to assist community members, delegates and non-delegates alike, to test out the new vis{on in terms of concrete experience and to internalize that vision in their personal value structures. Quite naturally, chapter delegates thus saw that their responsibility did not end when a chapter session adjourned. They had to communicate the chapter vision to everyone and become agents of on-going renewal. Subsequent chapter sessions then became occasions of further corporate reflection on the values embodied in earlier chapter decrees and led to appropriate modifications, refinements, a shared search for ways to implement ideals, and so forth. Thus the legislative function of chapters shaded into a new one, the renewal function. While this evolution of chapter responsibility is understandable and, from some standpoints, desirable, from another viewpoint an unfortunate blurring of distinctions may occur. That is, all of the pronouncements of the same legislative body tend to carry the same weight. As a result, chapter enactments 374 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 may appear to regress to the minutiae of an earlier era, and hence invite dis-regard, or they may all appear to be merely exhortatory without the benefit of stress or emphasis. If the authority of the chapter becomes weakened in the general estimate by too frequent pronouncements, there will be no authoritative voice left in a community to make a really solemn or effective point when it is called for. Perhaps this is an argument for less frequent chapter meetings, preceded by extensive reflection and development of issues within the community. The renewal function, then, would remain primarily the responsibility of the ad-ministrative group and such other community members and committees as they invite to share their responsibility, while the deliberative and legislative function--the ultimate direction setting--would remain the primary emphasis of the chapter itself. Administrative Groups The day-to-day administration of religious communities as well as or-dinary authority between chapter sessions is entrusted to a major superior and councilors and staff persons who collaborate with them. Just as with represen-tative bodies, there have been a variety of new approaches to maximizing the effective service of~.administrative groups. 1. "Teamwork" is seen as an ideal for administrative groups. Scarcely a group could be found today which would not lay claim to functioning as a "'team," but the connotations of this term are sometimes elusive. The use of it probably reflects an effort to escape from a hierarchical arrangement within the administrative group in which distinctions of rank and authority were strictly maintained, or from a rigid system of role descriptions within the council which tended to discourage creativity and initiative among the members and to stifle leadership in all but the major superior. To state what a team is not, however, is not the same as filling the concept with positive mean-ing. The chief characteristic of a team relationship is probably the high degree of communication and interaction among its members. Team organization is not incompatible with differentiation of tasks and authority among the members--after all, there is only one captain of a football team, and everyone plays a different position on it. (There are even offensive players as well as defensive ones, althgugh one would not like to push the analogy this far!) A team does imply a common goal for the members' efforts, however, and a genuinely concerted effort to reach it. There can be a distribution of authority on a team, and there certainly should be a flexibility in approach, a willingness to capitalize on one another's strengths and to compensate for one another's weaknesses, and a relative freedom to revise the "game plan" or to strategize as play progresses. A few communities have organized their administrative groups in such a way that two or more persons have co-equal responsibility. For example, there Religious Government: A Reflection on Relationships / 37~i may be three co-provincials who have different spheres of responsibility (such as religious formation, apostolic placement, finances, etc.), but seemingly equal accountability for the affairs of the total province. At least one com-munity reported that they found this to be an ineffective and inefficient arrangement because~f the lack of dynamism and leadership which resulted. Another effect of dividing the decisions to be made into approximately equal shares might be that the "co-provincials" tend to make decisions in isolation from one another without reference to the fact that these decisions ought to flow from an integrated vision of what the community is and is about. On the other hand, if "co-provincials" are all equally involved in every decision, the community's expectation will be that all will be equally knowledgeable about every area of responsibility--which would be a wasteful use of time and effort in some cases. These difficulties highlight the importance of studying the decision-making functions of the administrative group in order to provide, insofar as it can be anticipated, for participation which is proportionate to the centrality and im- 'portance of the issue. Formerly, constitutions took care of this by enumerating those matters which required a deliberative vote of the council and those for which only a consultative vote was required. The fact that administrative teams function in a more collegial and less formal style today should not obscure the insight that different matters require varying amounts of delibera-tion and ~consultation. 2. Administrative responsibility is increasingly shared with staff persons. This phenomenon results from the newly-emphasized distinction between charismatic and administrative leadership, as well as from an increasingly specialized and professional approach to traditional areas of administrative responsibility, such as finances, communications and record-keeping, per-sonnel services, and the management of apostolic institutions. Major superiors and their councils are seen primarily as 'in-spirators' and 'enablers' of religious community life--a role which is distinguished from the more management-oriented phase of their responsibility. It is further recognized that such tasks as financial management and personnel services require specialized preparation which is not always had by those whom the community wishes to elect to office. Also, these specialized tasks are often done better when a continuity of responsibility is maintained, and the tenure of such per-sons as the treasurer is not tied into an elected term of office. While in principle such distinctions can be made, there are also certain dif-ficulties which have been evidenced. First of all, the distinction between "charismatic" and "administrative" leadership cannot be exclusively main-tained: a religious leader who did not have a firm and sympathetic under-standing of the realities of the community's existence in every facet of its life would not be able to give credible inspiration to anyone. The leader's respon-sibility is to-cultivate an integrated vision of every aspect of community life in order to be able to challenge the members to further generosity in their 376 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 religious and apostolic life. Therefore the superior and council must collaborate closely with any staff persons in order to keep abreast of what they are learning about the community and also to help determine the priorities of the staff and to set the overall direction of their work. Another difficulty is apparent when the staff has insufficient authority to be effective. Community members must respect the expertise, community dedication, and delegated authority of the staff in order for their collaboration with the administrative group to really benefit all concerned. There are infor-mal as well as formal ways for the administrative group to i'einforce the staff's authority and responsibility in the community's eyes. For example, if a staff person has been designated to respond to a certain type of regularly-recurring request, the councilor should usually refuse to deal with such a request unless it can be shown that the staff person failed to give satisfactory service. Community members themselves sometimes create problems by requiring leaders to hold in confidence information which effects a staff member's role performance. Then the councilor is forced to intervene in the staff person's area of responsibility and to give a seemingly arbitrary direction, thus cir-cumventing the whole process. Councilors must be wary of allowing such situations to occur very often if they wish to have the assistance of a credible and effective staff. The relationship between the administrative group and the staff brings into focus the question of how large each group should be. This is probably a more relevant question than one which is more frequently'heard, "How many full-time persons are r(quired for community leadership?" In a day of declining membership and ever-pressing apostolic demands, releasing talented members for full-time community leadership often seems like a luxury which a com-munity cannot afford. But if more attention is given to a proper balance of elected leaders (full or part-time) and a supportive staff (full or part-time, lay or religious), new possibilities for maximizing leadership potential can be en-visioned. Obviously this answer varies from community to community, depend-ing on such factors as size, geographic expanse, diversity of apostolates, and the willingness and/or ability of council members to perform staff functions. Choice of Leadership No attempt will be made here to discuss varying and even inconsistent ex-pectations of leadership, although how to deal with that reality is a challenging question that applies both to representative bodies and to administrative groups. As noted above, community members expect chapter delegates~to be e.lectors, legislators, and (sometimes) renewal facilitators. They also expect major superiors and their councilors to furnish both charismatic and managerial leadership, in varying proportions. These areas of ambiguity do furnish a backdrop, however, for some remarks about the ways in which leaders have been chosen in recent years, a period in which there has been ceaseless experimentation with differing methods. In fact, most chapters spend Religious Government: A Reflection on Relationships / 377 more time determining the method by which they will choose their leaders than they do in carrying out the proce.ss itself. In general, four methods can be identified: choice by discernment, election by the chapter, election by the total community, and a nominated-appointed method. 1. Discernment. This method is difficult to define because its interpretation and application vary in different situations. In brief, though, it is a method whereby the electors reach a prayerful consensus about their choice of leadership. It is an application of the spirituality of discernment--the prayer-ful and communal effort to discover and respond to God's will for a group--to the specific matter of selection of leadership. Its proponents usually contrast it to an election which is considered to be mechanical or political or insufficiently attuned to God's will for the community. Since the effectiveness of the method is dependent on khe development of faith community within the group, its usefulness is qualified if the electors represent a very large or wide-spread community, and do not ordinarily see one another except on the occasion of a chapter meeting. In some cases the discernment process has involved not the chapter delegates, but the nominees themselves. In other words, after a process of nomination (in which the entire community has both active and passive voice), those nominees who decide, after personal discernment, that they would be open to being called to community leadership enter into a process of com-munal discernment. Great objection can be raised to this practice, however, since it arbitrarily restricts active voice in the election to only the nominees. Religious constitutions have traditionally specified very exactly who enjoys the right to elect the major superiors, namely, the chapter delegates. To create a situation in which there are no electors except the nominees themselves--some of whom may have received only a single nominating vote while others may have received hundreds--runs contrary to this whole tradition. There must be many qualified electors in a community who are not themselves potential can-didates for the office of major superior. 2. Election by the Chapter. This is the traditional method for selection of leadership, but the manner in which this process is carried out within the chapter admits of many variations. For example, communities have ex-perimented with nominating procedures which involve the entire community and/or with search committees who are charged with developing a list of nominees. Within the chapter itself great efforts are made to allow candidates to discuss their views and their vision of the future direction of the community in an open forum before the election takes place. The election of major superiors, since it is one of the gravest respon-sibilities of a chapter, should be carried out in a prayerful context (as should "all of the deliberations of a chapter). The chapter body should strive together to search out the best-qualified persons to call to leadership in the light of the religious and apostolic goals of the community. Prayers for divine guidance, for freedom from prejudice and error, and for generosity in responding to God's will should all surround the election. If this is the case, then the sup- 371~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 posed contrast between the discernment method and the election method seems to fade in significance. Furthermore, election by the chapter seems to be the only one which readily safeguards the traditional requirements of a valid election, namely, that the votes be free, secret, certain, absolute, and determinate.3 Even a total community election (to be dealt with below) risks compromising these con-ditions. Some would argue that these requirements should no longer apply and that, for example, the community would be better served if ballots were not secret. While at first glance this may seem to represent a growth in the level of mutual trust and evidence a breakthrough in communications within a com-munity, further reflection might lead to an enhanced appreciation of those traditional safeguards which the Church has provided in canon law. Any com-munity which forswears the use of "free, secret, certain, absolute, and deter-minate" ballots should understand full well what it is sacrificing and be con-vinced that a proportionate good will be achieved. 3. Election by the Total Com~munity. It is doubtful whether this method cduid be successfully applied in any but a very small community where all of the members can be present at an election or where the ballots can be collected within a short period of time. Those who advocate a direct popular election probably reflect a lack of confidence in their chapter, a serious problem which should be dealt with in itself since it affects more than the elections. If the chapter is truly representative, however, and the community has confidence in its responsible leadership, then the desire for a community-wide election would seem negligible. 4. Nomination-Appointment. In this method a higher administrative group appoints major superiors from a list of nominees prepared by the constituency. For example, a province (or provincial chapter) may submit a list of nominees to the administrator general and council who then appoint the provincial superiors. Or the provincial administrative group may appoint regional superiors from among nominees presented to them. The alleged advantage of this method is that the higher superior is able to look over the list of nominees and appoint an administrative team with complementary talents, a result which isn't always obtained in a direct election by the appropriate chapter. This method also reflects the authority and responsibility of the higher ad-ministrative group with respect to the smaller units of the community. The method is compromised, however, if the higher superior feels insuf-ficiently informed about the qualifications of the nominees, or is unable to en-dorse any of them with enthusiasm, or does not feel genuinely free to choose from among them. This last condition might apply, for example, if the list of nominees and the total number of votes each received is published to the com-munity at large. Then there is a subtle expectation that the major superior will 3Canon 169. For a discussion of these requirements, see Canon Law for Religious Women by Louis G. Fanfani, O.P., and Kevin D. O'Rourke, O.P. (Dubuque, Iowa: The Priory Press, 1961), pp. 91-93. Religious Government: A Reflection on Relationships / 379 automatically appoint the nominee ~with the highest number of votes, and the appointment becomes only the ratification of a fair accompli. Concluding Remarks Many other aspects of religious government today could be singled out for observation and study. Some of these which come to mind are the utilization of different kinds of balloting in elections (e.g., preferential ballots and weighted ballots), the respective advantages of staggered terms of office and concurrent terms, the participation of ancillary groups such as committees and commissions in the governing process, and the ways in which different units of government discharge their responsibilities (e.g., how they develop their agen-das and how they formulate and communicate policies). Moreover, in addition to the simple observation of phenomena and trends there is a need to evaluate them in the light of assumptions and principles which are acknowledged by the religious community. These espoused beliefs are of many kinds: political, sociological, philosophical, and theological, to name four important areas. This is not the place to develop a list of represen-tative assumptions and, indeed, the renewal process in communities may not have progressed far enough yet for them to be able to articulate these cor-porately. However, any in depth critique of government should deal with questions such as the nature of human persons, the role of law and structure in human life and associations, how government structures can reflect the emphasis of Vatican II on collegiality, subsidiarity,, and shared decision-making, and on the Gospel challenge to be poor, chaste, and obedient in a world which values none of these. Religious government is the point at which a religious community comes together to organize for its collective mission. Those who occupy leadership positions perform a temporary service for the others in order to facilitate that mission. Many relationships should be facilitated by a government structure: relationships of communication, of consultation, of decision-making; relationships between and among community members, community leadership, lay collaborators, Church, and world. The ideal plan of religious government is simple, clear, adapted to contemporary needs, and flexible. The government should be the point of integration of all the concerns of a com-munity, internal and external, and it exists in order to enable the community to better respond to those concerns. There is abundant evidence today that religious communities have in fact grasped the importance of adapting their government structures to these insights and that many of the changes made, and the inevitable trials-and-errors, have brought them closer to that goal. A Note on Religious Poverty J. Robert Hilbert, S.J. Father J. Robert Hilbert is presently assigned to St. Francis Mission; St. Francis, SD 57572 Introduction In many discussions of religious life, it has struck me that, of the three vows, poverty is the most difficult to come to grips with. One is tempted often enough to suspect that the fundamental problem is an unwillingness to take the direct approach of simply being poor. On the other hand, that might be a simplistic move prompted by the desire to escape the discomfort of the in-evitable tension involved in being in the world, but not of the world. There is a fundamental dilemma: poverty is either a good or it is an evil. If it is a good, if it is true that "Happy are you poor," that it really is harder for a rich man than for a poor one to enter the kingdom, then it makes sense for one to himself choose poverty and to counsel others to choose it, but it does not make sense to dedicate one's energies to the elimination of poverty. On the other hand, if poverty is evil, if it hinders man's ability to know, love and serve God, if it is destructive of the human spirit, then certainly it makes sense to work to overcome poverty, but it does not make sense to choose poverty, es-pecially to make it the object of a vow by which one expresses devotion to God. One can say that the Christian concern is not with poverty and wealth as economic or sociological realities, but is rather with poverty of spirit, a spirit which acknowledges man's basic helplessness and dependence on God, which sees man's good as a spiritual good in reference to which material possessions are either indifferent or are subservient as a means. A man who is materially wealthy may have this poverty of spirit in terms of real humility and detach-ment from his possessions, and a man materially poor may have the opposite of this spirit in terms of pride and greed. Yet one does have somehow to deal with the fact that the Gospels present Christ as saying that it is morally im-possible for a rich man to enter the kingdom, that the beatitudes, at least in 380 A Note on Religious Poverty Luke, seem to be talking about the poor and the rich in a sense that includes the material. in considering the sense of Christ's--and the Church's--call to preach the Good News to the poor, one might say of it that it is an assertion to those who are generally looked down on or who experience pain and need and helplessness that they are important to God and are loved by Him. Not that those who experience comfort, and social and mental and physical well-being are not loved, but that they are more apt to know it and so have less need of assurance than do the sufferers. Poverty in this context, one might then say, is not an economic term, but just a generi~ term for those who are needy in any way. Surely Dives is as poor and needy in a spiritual sense as Lazarus? So it is to him perhaps even more than to Lazarus that we are sent to bring the Good News. One hears arguments, too, on the point that Christ did not urge structural social change, much less work for it. Though he responded to physical needs of people on occasion, as when he fed the multitudes or healed the sick, he did not attempt the elimination of poverty or the overthrow of Roman domination any more than he attempted the elimination ~f disease or of earthquakes. Ob-viously he commanded love of neighbor and a practical expression of that love in feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, etc., but he did not preach economic or political structural reform. What manner of reflection, then, led the bishops in their 1971 Synod to say that "action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation?''1 (Is there a possibility that our Lord received his death sentence because his teaching and activity constituted a threat to the established social order?) This note is not an attempt to offer solutions to the difficulties and am-biguities of religious poverty, nor is it intended to touch all the elements in-volved. It is simply aimed at emphasizing a few points that seem to me to be often missed or slighted. Before taking up those, however, it might be worth recalling a few presuppositions on which these reflections are based. The Church's Poverty and Religious Poverty One is that a religious community is a community within the Church. Its way of life, its values and ideals are those of the Church. It gives particular ex-pression to certain values in a way different from the way in which other groups in the Church do, but these values are those of the whole Christian peo-ple. Religious life is to give evidence of, to point to, to make sharply visible certain aspects of what it is to be a Christian. There must, then, be continuity in the sense of poverty of religious life and the sense in which the Church speaks of its poverty. This sense, of course, comes to the Church through the ~Synod of Bishops, Justice in the World (U.S.C.C., Washington, D.C., 1972.) p. 34. 382 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 example and teaching of Christ. "Just as Christ carried out the work of redemption in poverty and under oppression, so the Church is called to follow the same path in communicating to men the fruits of salvation. Christ Jesus, 'though He was by nature God . . . emptied himself, taking the nature of a slave' (Phil 2:6), and 'being rich, he became poor' (2 Cor 8:9) for our sakes. Thus, although the Church needs human resources to carry out her mission, she is not set up to seek earthly glory, but to proclaim humility and self-sacrifice, even by her own example.''~ The Tradition of Religious Poverty Another assumption is that a religious community is both an inheritor of tradition and an interpreter of that tradition in terms of the present day. There is a long history of the practice of poverty in religious life. In the course of generations, we have developed a complex of values in the matter of poverty, including the following: detachment from material wealth; sparingness and simplicity in use of material things; possession of things in common; a life of labor; dependence on providence; hospitality; service of the poor. To some extent there is an'absoluteness in these values, aspects of them which are true in general for all men and all times. Even were there a time when the world had no drastic contrast between the rich and powerful and the poor and helpless, men would need reminders that the good life is not found in having things. "You have made all these things, made them very good indeed, yet You are my good, not they," It will always be true, as non-Christian cultures, too, realize, that man comes before God in nakedness and emp-tiness- not with reliance on possessions, nor on education, skills, achievements, nor even with security in good works as giving him in any way a claim on God; he comes to God with awareness of his own nothingness, and of God's infinite and personal love. Response to Particular Periods or Societies Beyond such timeless elements, howe, ver, values involved in religious poverty and modes of expression of that poverty are related to the contem-porary social situation of any given period. Modes of expression of religious poverty differ among various orders and in various times and places in part because religious poverty is an affirmation of values endangered by a particular period or society. !t is a prophetic witness directed to the needs of the time and place. Benedict, Francis and Ignatius had initially very different modes of poverty in their orders, not because they had different views of the fundamental and timeless values expressed in poverty, but because they were responding to the needs of the Church in different histo.rical periods. In considering renewal of religious poverty for our times and situation, ~Vatican 1 I, Dogmatic Constitution on the Church,//8. (Documents of Vatican 11. America Press, 1966, p. 23.) A Note on Religious Poverty / 383 then, it is not enough to accept the externals of the expression of poverty ac-cording to the traditions of a religious order; one must consider the values and attitudes involved, both the religious values affirmed and the worldly values opposed. Let us put this another way. Christ'.s life of poverty, it has been said, was "characterized by a redemptive use of things.''3 This is not simply an accept-ance of an ideal order of creation; it is also a recognition that there is sin-fulness embodied in the present concrete order, a non-redemptive use of things, which must be counteracted. The non-redemptive use, the sinful use, of God's creation is evil not only because it is an undue or distorted valuing of things (St. Paul speaks of "greed, which is idolatry"), but because it leads men to degrade, exploit and treat unjustly their fellow men. Poverty Is Apostolic Another presupposition is that the poverty of a religious order is not an end in itself. It is ordained to man's redemption, to the development of the Kingdom of God. Hence, there will be variation in the poverty of different g~roups according to the nature of their apostolate. Yet this subordination must not obscure the fact that poverty is really meant and is deliberately chosen. Religious poverty is not a mode of life that is in total equilibrium; it is not a way of life characterized by use of God's creation in what might be the way one would hold up as the ideal for all men in the ultimately just world order. Religious poverty is a deliberate move to the side of the poor and oppressed, an affirmation of intended identification with them. It is this because in Christ God has identified himself with them. Furthermore, religious poverty is a mode of apostolate. A religious may recognize that there are many ways of working for the attainment of man's red, emption. In the spirit of the Kingdom and Two Standards of the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius, however, he chooses to work from a position of poverty and humiliations. This is not a completely rational approach to the improve-ment of the human situation. There is a mystery in God's mode of salvation in Christ--through poverty, humiliation, injustice, eventually an unjust death on the cross. Unless there is an acceptance in faith of that mystery as still operative, there can be no full acceptance of religious poverty. l have stated four points that seem to me to enter in to reflection on religious poverty: that religious poverty is to give clear evidence to the Church's sense of poverty; that it involves a sense of the tradition of poverty throughout history; that there must be a re-statement of the spirit and tradi-tion of religious poverty in light of the sociological and cultural situation of the present day; that religious poverty is apostolic, "as Christ carried out the work of redemption in poverty and under .oppression." As I consider these points and my experience of religious life, it seems to aJohn R. Sheets, S.J., Toward a Theology of the Religious Life. (Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, II1,8; Nov., 1971, p. 173.) 384. / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 me that three areas which demand much and serious reflection in efforts at renewal are: that religious poverty must be in fundamental, radical opposition to the spirit of our affluent society, and must, then, require fundamental, radical personal conversion on the part of a religious; that contemporary con-sciousness of social injustice is integral and essential to the meaning of religious poverty and its expression in our day; that being concerned for the poor and being poor are not quite the same thing. Religious Poverty in an Affluent Society In referring to our affluent culture, what I am trying to suggest is that simply having things, being relatively wealthy in comparison to the major por-tion of the world's population is not an accidental adjunct to what we are as a people. Our material affluence is rooted in and has sprung from some of the most basic attitudes and values of our culture. In turn, our affluence reinforces and influences the development of these attitudes and values. Surrendering the right to personal ownership, professing a dependence on a superior or a com-munity for material things, even choosing a standard of economic life which eliminates certain superfluities and luxuries, does not signify or produce a very deep-rooted or wide-ranging change in the attitudes and values we have ab-sorbed since birth. It seems to me that this is the fundamental reason why it is so hard for us to come to any clear and satisfactory consensus about the meaning of religious--or Christian--poverty. So long as we consider the matter on the basis of the attitudes and values which are our cultural inheritance, there is no way we can conclude that real poverty is something which can be chosen and prized, for that culture is in diametric opposition to a spirit of poverty. In a brief article such as this, there is not scope for a full discussion of the American value system. What we are as a people, though, can be learned by reflection on our history. It was not an aberration of a few twisted individtials that brought about the centuries of enslavement of millions of Africans and In-dians. The greed, violence, lust for power, unquestioning assumption of superiority that underlay the centuries of European exploration, conquest, dominance and exploitation were not just occasional faults of isolated in-dividuals. They were part of the fundamental value system of an entire culture. Though we now repudiate some of the cruder manifestations, the same values and spirit are still endemic in Western culture, and have been incar~ nated in the social structures that our culture has established. It is not acci-dent, but basic cultural drive that has developed in this, the wealthiest country in the world, an economic and political structure which "virtually guarantees poverty for millions of Americans.''4 The greed, selfishness and exploitation of the colonial period have borne fruit, through the period of the industrial revolution and the growth of the multi-national corporations, in a world 4Poverty Amid Plenty, the report of the President's commission on income maintenance programs, 1969, p. 23. A Note on Religious Poverty / 385 economy which has created an enormous and ever increasing division between rich and poor, which threatens the human race because of the destruction of the earth's environment and resources. So the world is not one. Its peoples are more divided now, and also more conscious of their divisions, than they have ever been. They are divided between those who are satiated and those who are hungry. They a~e divided between those with power and those without power. They are divided between those who dominate and those who are dominated; between those who exploit and those who are exploited. And it is the minority which is well fed, and the minority which has secured control over the world's wealth and over their fellow men. Further, in general that minority is distinguished by the colour of their skins and by their race. And the nations in which most of that minority of the world's people live have a further distinguishing characteristic--their adoption of the Christian religion.5 What is significant is not only the fact of such division, but also our general ability to ignore that fact. How is it, after 80 years of modern social teaching and two thousand years of the Gospel of love, that the Church has to admit her inability to make more impact upon the con-science of her people?. It was stressed again and again that the faithful, particularly the more wealthy and comfortable among them, simply do not see structural social in-justice as a sin, simply feel no personal responsibility for it and simply feel no obligation to do anything about it. Sunday observance, the Church's rules on sex and marriage, tend to enter the Catholic consciousness profoundly as sin. To live like Dives with Lazarus at the gate is not even perceived as sinful.6 A concern for religious poverty which attends only to the externals of per-sonal or community economy is inadequate. If we continue to fit comfortably within the systematized greed, selfishness, cruelty, love of power of our society, we have no poverty of spirit. If we are ourselves to become Christian and to bring the Christian word to our society, we must attain an empathy with the poor and powerless in our own country and in the world. We have to feel the poverty of the migrants who harvest the food that is so plentiful on our tables. We have to know our society as it is experienced by an unemployed In-dian who sees his children growing up undernourished, falsely educated, and culturally destroyed in a country where his grandfathers lived in freedom and plenty. But once again, we have to become aware of and critical of our own ac-culturation. We must ourselves engage in that continuing education described by the bishops, an education which comes "through action, participation and vital contact with the reality of injustice." We must awaken in ourselves "a critical sense, which will lead us to reflect on the society in which we live and its values," and be "ready to renounce these values when they cease to promote justice for all men.''7 This examination will include not only our 5Julius Nyerere, Speech to the Maryknoll Sisters (Maryknoll Overseas Extension Service, Maryknoll, N.Y., p. 6). 6From an account of the debate at the 1971 Bishops' Synod, quoted in Henriot, "The Concept of Social Sin," Sourcebook on Poverty, Development and Justice, Campaign for Human Develop-ment (U.S.C.C., Wash., D.C., 1973, p. 67). 7Synod, op. cit., p. 46. 386 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 private lives, but the values incorporated in the institutions in which we work. It is necessary, for instance, to examine the basis of our judgment of produc-tivity and efficiency, our decisions about choice of means. Do we give due ac-count to the idea that we are called to follow the path of carrying out the work of redemption "in poverty and under oppression?" Abject poverty, we are told over and over again, is destructive of the human spirit, is an evil which must be eradicated, cannot be the object of a choice, certainly not of a vow, because it is an evil. True enough. But is it possible that our sense of how evil it is is to some extent a reflection of how good we think wealth is? Does our reflection on Christ's statement that it is a moral impossibility for a rich man to enter the kingdom suggest to us that perhaps wealth, too, is destructive of the human spirit, is an evil which must be eradicated? There are many ways in which the full acceptance and real valuing of religious poverty demand not simply a spirit of occasional.self-denial, but a very radical transformation of the basic values inculcated in us from birth within our society, values involved in our attitudes towards material creation, toward the meaning of human life, toward our country's position in world relationships. Addressing Social Injustice Earlier in this article 1 said that contemporary consciousness of social in-justice seems integral to our understanding of religious poverty. To some ex-tent l have introduced this idea in discussing the matter of a critical examina-tion of our values, but let me focus more directly on this point. Poverty has always been an essential of religious life--but its motivation and expression have been modified by the needs of the times. The sinful ab-surdity of the economic situation of our times is not in the fact that there are people who are poor, but in the division described by Nyerere, in the fact that the enormous and unprecedented technological, economic and political power of our times is ordered not to alleviating the plight of the poor majority of men, but to the perpetuation and increase of the imbalance of that division. The bishops recognize this situation as a claim on the Church's expression of poverty. Although in general it is difficult to draw a line between what is needed for right use and what is demanded by prophetic witness, we must certainly keep firmly to this principle: our faith demands of us a certain sparingness in use, and the Church is obliged to ad-minister its own goods in such a way that the (~ospel is proclaimed to the poor . In societies enjoying a higher level of consumer spending, it must be asked whether our life style exemplifies that sparingness with regard to consumption which we preach to others as necessary in order that so many millions of hungry people throughout the world be fed.8 8Ibid., p. 45. A Note on Religious Poverty / 387 What is that sparingness? In general, at least, "those who are already rich are bound to accept a less material ~way of life, with less waste, in order to avoid the destruction of the heritage which they are obliged by absolute justice to share with all other members of the human race.''9 Many cautions are given in discussions of religious poverty to the effect that it should not be confused with economic poverty, that religious poverty in its expression is relative to the milieu in which the community lives and works, that religious poverty is distinct from the claims of justice. Such distinctions, however, can be overdrawn to the extent that religious poverty is moved to an abstraction that has little in common with the poverty of Christ. His Kenosis was accomplished in concrete terms of real identification with the poor and ac-tual confrontation with the powerful of his times. When he said, "Happy are you who are poor," and "Alas for you who are rich," one has the impression that he was not abstracting from the economic situation. More fundamentally, Fr. Arrupe's statement deserves serious con-sideration: But God is not only the God of the poor. He is, in a real sense, God who is poor. For the mystery of the Incarnation has established a special relationship between God and pover-ty whose meaning goes much deeper than mere compassion . God is allpowerful. God has riches beyond our ability to estimate. But he is also a God of justice, who demands that justice be done. l f, then, God, allpowerful and infinitely rich, identifies Himself with the poor, it must be because the cause of the poor is somehow identified with the cause of justice?° Sparingness, for example, is fundamental to religious poverty in part as an example to all men that possessions and use of luxuries are not all that essen-tial to the quality of human life--may, in fact, hinder a man in his real development. Today there is clearly added to this motivation in the Church's consciousness the demand of some sparingness in order that justice be served. It is clear, too, that this demand goes beyond the matter of purely personal or domestic religious life to take in as well the means used in our apostolic works. If there is a demand that our society's use of energy, for example, be reduced, that reduction is called for in all aspects of our life and work. It seems to me, in short, that a level of example and witness in this regard is integral to a realistic understanding of the contemporary value of religious poverty--a poverty that is true to the Church's sense of her call to poverty, a poverty characterized by a redemptive use of things, a use redemptive of the actual sinful use of things in our day. Identification with the Sociologically Poor The Church, following the example of Christ, recognizes a particular call to showing concern for the poor and the oppressed. This call is felt with special 91bid., p. 51. 1°Pedro Arrupe, S.J., Witnessing to Justice (Pontifical Commission, Justice and Peace, Vatican, 1972), p. 38. 3~11~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 emphasis by religious, as the history of their efforts on behalf of the poor attests. The kind of assistance that is called for will vary in different periods and with different orders. In our times, there is particularly the note of concern that the structures which perpetuate and increase the division between rich and poor be changed. Even within the wealthiest country in the world, change of structures is necessary for the alleviation of widespread poverty: The paradox of poverty in the midst of plenty causes many to ask why some people re-main poor when so many of their fellow Americans have successfully joined the ranks of the affluent . It is often argued that the I~oor are to blame for their own circumstances and should be expected to lift themselves from poverty. This commission has concluded that these assertions are incorrect. Our economic and social structures virtually guarantee poverty for millions of Americans.1~ The call to concern for the poor and for working for structural changes that will ensure justice for the poor is a call to all Christians. For us who profess religious poverty, it is not only a call to have such concern and to work for such change, but to share Christ's identification with the poor. Discer.n-ment is necessary, harmfully simplistic approaches should be avoided--yet our life and mode of work should be such that our being accounted among the poor is clear. Whatever may be said of the relative norm of poverty with reference to the milieu in which a community lives and works, it should be clear that they are poor in that relative way. If it is a question for all Christians "whether belong-ing to the Church places people on a rich island within an ambient of pover-ty,''~ 2 it is preeminently a question for religious. We should share what we have, and it seems good, sometimes, that we do have in order to share. But we should be present to the poor as willing to share what little we have, not as well-to-do philanthropists sharing their excess. There is a lesson for us, though we might not wish to carry it to that extreme, in the example of St. Francis's unwillingness even to accept alms to be dis-tributed to the poor. There is, moreover, the very practical fact that it is most unlikely that we will appreciate the meaning of being truly poor, or be able really to see our society and its structures from the standpoint of the poor, if we ourselves do not in some real way share their experience. It is evident enough in our rec-tories and convents and schools that most of us share pretty completely the values and attitudes and experience and even prejudices of the affluent, not of the poor. It seems pertinent at this point to introduce a quotation from St. Ignatius Loyola which perhaps returns to the statement of my opening paragraph: ~tPoverty Amid Plenty, loc. cir. 12Synod, op. cit., p. 45. A Note on Religious Poverty Let me just say this; whoever loves poverty should be glad to be poor; glad to go hungry, to be badly clothed, to lie on a hard bed. For if someone loves poverty but avoids penury, following poverty only from afar, is that not to be comfortably poor? Surely that is to love the reputation rather than the reality of poverty; to love poverty in word but not in deed.t3 As 1 conclude this article, my sense of futility returns. If some of the honestly poor people of my acquaintance--in the slums of Milwaukee, in Belize, on the Sioux reservation where I now live--were ever to run into the sort of discussion I have written here, 1 suspect they would not find it so much the word of Christ as the confusion of one who is far from Him. 1 think it might cause some amusement, if not amazement, that a man with so much education and so many years of meditation on the Gospel can make such a complicated business out of the relatively simple question of how he can be poor. But this is written by one who lives in material security, even affluence, for others who live similarly, and so must inevitably reflect the confusion of those bound in that mesh. May that which is impossible to men, that which our own mental gyrations and personal anguish can never bring about, be accomplished by Him who can save; may He relieve us of the burden and constriction of our wealth, pull us through the eye of the needle, and introduce us to the simplicity and freedom of His Kingdom. t3Monumenta Ignatiana, Epp. l, 577. Mortification Brother Thomas E. Ruhf, C.P. Bro. Thomas E. Ruhf is.presently engaged in studies for the priesthood at St. John's University, where he was awarded a Master's Degree in Theology last year. He is a member of the Passionist Monastery; 178th St. and Wexford Terrace; Jamaica, NY 11432. The word "mortification" is seldom if ever heard these days, and, when it is, it strikes a strange and sour note because of its seeming lack of harmony with contemporary man's view of himself and his world. In a society ruled by the lords of consumerism, progressivism and utopianism, the concept of mor-tification is most assuredly an outcast. Mortification is viewed as no less than a perversion of life, since life's goal is seen to be the pursuit of happiness and self-fulfillment, which is attained in extracting from life all its treasures of pleasure and burying as much as possible its pains and sorrows. The mul-tiplication of wonders in science and technology is heralding the dawn of a new age when there will be plenty of pleasures and possessions for all, when disease and pains will be laid to rest forever, and when even death may fall victim to the march of man. To speak of death, suffering or any human limitation is to talk of problems to be solved and not perennial conditions to be fa~ed. Such a society has no use for mortification precisely because it is a radical, concrete and complete affirmation of these realities, precisely because it af-firms them as enduring conditions to be faced and embraced for their creative potentials. The problem with mortification is a problem with suffering and death, with their proper place in a full and authentic human existence. In spite of society's claims of present and future scientific and technological conquests, death, suffering and human limitations remain ever so real. Daily the media parades before our eyes the ~pectr'e.of human suf-fering- innocent children with bellies pregnant with starvation, the disfigured and bloodied corpses of victims of senseless terrorism and calculated wars, the 390 . Mortification / 39'1 sad streams of people with lives and homes ruined by the fury of natural dis-asters. At the same time the tales of polluted water and air, of shortages of oil and energy, of inflation and recession are bursting the bubble of the great American myth of the cornucopia of unending resources and limitless produc-tion. Yet modern society continues its masquerade of denial. This denial of the hard and enduring facts of death, suffering and human limitation is not without its costs, for modern man has fallen victim to a certain sense of cultural schizophrenia. It seems that the greater the claims made for man's omniscence and omnipotence, for his control over nature and life in the face of his obvious lack of it, the greater becomes his sense of personal impotence, of being victimized and fated by the forces of nature and life. As society as a whole becomes more integrated, mechanized and systematized, he as an in-dividual becomes more isolated, alienated and categorized. Sodiety's attempt to do away with all external forms of suffering and pain only serves to intensify and foster his internal suffering and pain. A Contemporary Understanding of the Problem of Suffering and Death If any concept of mortification is to be valid today, it must seek its basis in the new heightened awareness of pain and suffering not only as external world realities but also as internal personal realities. It must find its roots in a con-temporary understanding of suffering and death. Perhaps the most meaningful concept of suffering and death for today's world is the existentialist view. In such a view man is seen primarily as a being-unto- death. His very suffering and limitation become movements in con-sciousness toward the final limit of death, which brings man face to face with the fundamental questionableness of his own being without offering him any answer to it. This ultimate questionableness of life is faced by each man alone. Death represents the ultimate loneliness. All suffering, in being mine alone to bear, is essentially an experience of loneliness foreshadowing the ultimate Ioneliriess of death. Thus suffering and death give a character of existential loneliness to all life, a realization that no other finite reality can solve the basic questionableness involved in the finitude of my existence, that no finite reality can satisfy my radical desire to transcend this ultimate limit. This spectre of existential loneliness casts a long shadow of fear and anx-iety over a man's life. He can deal with this spectre in a number of ways. One way, which is most characteristic of contemporary man, is to avoid the whole question as long as possible. There is a retreat from the limits of his loneliness and death and a search for a sense of security in an immersion into th6 daily activities of pleasure and production. Indeed in America death is a taboo. The subject must never be raised, not even with a dying person. Death is always an unfortunate accident that happens to someone else. Likewise acknowledgement of a deep sense of loneliness seems awkward and inappropriate in a society.dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure and hap- 399 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 piness. Loneliness, a basic reality of life, like death, is viewed as a sickness which alienates people from each other and society and hence is an unfor-tunate development in life that must be avoided and spurned. But in fact "it is not loneliness which separates persons from others, but the terror of loneliness and the constant effort to escape it.''t If a man cannot face and affirm his ex-perience of existential loneliness as a condition of existence, he will not only be alienated from others but even from his very self. As Dr. Elisabeth K~ibler- Ross has observed in her study of terminally ill persons, nothing frustrates and alienates them more than their families' and friends' refusal to talk of suffer-ing and death. As a result Dr. K~ibler-Ross makes a plea in her book, On Death and Dying, for more people to face up to the reality of death for the sake of helping the dying and for their own sake in living real and full lives.2 Modes of Acceptance of Suffering and Death Assuredly the acceptance of suffering and death is necessary for a truly authentic and full life. However there are significantly different modes of acceptance that man has and can choose as his way of responding to these realities. Karl Rahner suggests that there are basically three postures of ac-cepting death? First of all, some see death as the stark and complete termination of all that they have found pleasureable in life. Death is a door op~ning out into dark oblivion, into the ultimate futility of all life and as such is a cause for frustra-tion and despair. Suffering is a grim foreshadowing and reminder of this ul-timate emptiness. Others embrace death with the full consciousness of their being, realizing that they have no answer to the enigma of its meaning, but yet remaining open to an answer to this ultimate questionableness of life from a source outside of themselves and time. It is a response of stoic resignation to fatedness and all suffering, leaving open the possibility that death could be a door to ultimate fulfillment as well as to ultimate annihilation. The third response goes beyond resignation, radically affirming death and all "little deaths" in suffering as doors to a life of ultimate fulfillment, as the necessary frontiers to be crossed on the way to the radical transformation of man's ex-istential situation by a gift from God. This response of acceptance is permeated by a sense of faith and hope in seeing in the very finitude of life its radical nature as free gift from the One v~ho is Infinite. This last response is of course the Christian response. We acknowledge in faith the efficacy of Christ's death and resurrection for the transformation of our own death into eternal life in God. Dying to ourselves becomes the only way to the fullness of life. Existential loneliness in suffering and death is the ~Clark E. Moustakas, Loneliness (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall Inc., 1961), p. 103. 2Elisabeth Kiibler-Ross, M.D., On Death and Dying (New York, N.Y.: Macmillian Co., 1969). p. 13. 3Karl Rahner, S.I., "The Passion and Asceticism," Theological Investigations (Baltimore, Md.: Helicon Press, 1967), v. 3, p. 92. Mortification / 393 very vehicle to authentic life since it is our only entrance into a participation in the Paschal Mystery which is the answer to the questionableness of all life. We believe that as an existential, ontological result of Christ's saving action all life can now be said to exist in a state of mortification, in a state of having already died with Christ that it may now live with him in a sharing in his resurrection. In this sense every life by way of baptism in Christ enters into a state of "ab-solute mortification."' Present Difficulty with Mortification No Christian has problems with accepting mortification as a state of life entered into in baptism, though we perhaps never consciously refer to life in Christ as mortified existence. The problem comes in the choosing of specific acts of mortification above and beyond the suffering and death inherent in the exigencies of life itself. These self-chosen acts of mortification, which have been termed "relative mortification," have for some time played a role in the tradition of Christian asceticism and been a prominent feature of religious life. But today it is a common assumption that relative mortification has no. place in authentic Christian living. In fact it has been condemned as a distortion and perversion of Christianity, and any mention of the subject evokes looks and words of scorn and disbelief. How can it be that such a long tradition of relative mortification has so suddenly been pushed aside and left to die?.llS it simply true that there is no value in practising it at all? To answer this question we must first identify and face the reasons for this rejection. There seem to be two fundamental reasons for this. First it stems from a reaction against the excessive and exclusively corporal nature of past practices of mortification. Secondly the rejection arises out of an affirmation that there is enough mortification inherent in trying to live a good Christian life of love. Certainly whenever the word "mortification" is spoken in Christian circles it immediately calls to mind a grim picture of severe corporal austerities aimed at prevention of or reparation for sin. Such practices of "attacking" the body do violence to our contemporary awareness of the sacrality of all material ex-istence. We react strongly against the Platonic dualistic view of life implicit in these practices which views the soul as imprisoned in the body and yearning for release from its evil propensities. Furthermore instead of releasing a person from his self-centeredness, these practices often enough focused concern on the self by creating an obsessive preoccupation with avoiding pleasure and con-solation in a fight to win salvation. The Christian call to turn outward from the self to Christ and his ~people in a spirit of suffering love is overshadowed by the quest for personal perfection in the conquest of temptation. Hence such prac-tices appear to have little connection with a valid Christian life. 'William J. Rewak, S.J., "Mortification," Review for Religious, May 1965, p. 374. 394 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 Inadequacy of Traditional Justifications for Mortification It certainly must be admitted that many past ascetical practices are quite justifiable on "worldly" terms alone apart from any connection with a Chris-tian view of life. Karl Rahner distinguishes three types of ascetical practices which developed independently of Christianity.5 The first type he terms moral asceticism, which uses corporal austerities as a means of self-discipline for the sake of attaining a balance of the various forces in man and thus enabling him to lead a life in harmony with the laws of his nature. Such asceticism seeks to conquer the "animality" in man so that his spirit may rule. This description would fit many of our past practices of mortification. Likewise "mystical asceticism," in using bodily self-denials as a preparation for an experience of religious enthusiasm and mystical insight, has nothing peculiarly Christian about it. The same can be said for "ritual asceticism" which also uses bodily austerities as a way to escape the profane sphere of life for the sake of contact with the transcendent. All these justifications for mortification deny the significance of Christ's Incarna;tion, deny the truth of the Word who is the flesh and blood revelation of God, who reveals the spiritual by means of th~ material. There is no prere-quisite of escape from material reality in order to find God. Contemporary Christianity has rejected past practices of mortification quite justifiably on the grounds that the reasons given for employing them had little to do with solid Christian belief. Indeed the decrees of dispensation of the Friday abstinence and of most of the Lenten fast and abstinence were viewed by many as a sort of"Emancipa-tion Proclamation" freeing Catholics from the slavery of past mortificational practices. In the ensuing exhiliration of freedom not only were the past prac-tices cast off but also the whole concept of relative mortification itself. In the name of freedom for a full human life, many could now repeat the words of James Carroll, "I have given up nothing but giving up for several Lents. I have denied myself self-denial.''6 In the same breath as was said "my work is my prayer," can be said "my life is my mortification." The Search for Enduring Values Yet with all this freedom from the past there seems to be a budding sense of frustration and emptiness. There is a growing awareness that in rejecting past practices we have neglected real values that were inherent in them though covered by distortions. A renewed emphasis on contemplation, solitude, and just plain "wasting time" is finding its way back into Christian literature. These concerns are arising not out of a sense of fear of the modern world and an attempt to hold onto the past but out of the faithfulness to one's own being and the call of need from others. There is a new movement beyond the 5Rahner, op. cit., pp. 60-66. 6James Carroll, "Mortification for Liberation," National Catholic Reporter. December 10, 197 I, p. 10. MortiJi'cation / 39~i smashing of past idolized practices to searching for the foundations of the en-during values and treasures of the Church. The present times demand that we be honest with ourselves. We must ad-mit that our work has not really become our prayer nor our living of life a full realization of the spirit of mortification. As Saint Paul so clearly stresses in the ninth chapter of his letter to the Corinthians, there is more to fighting the good fight and running the good race than the contests themselves. Any good athlete spends much time in preparation for the contest in rigorous discipline and training. Just because we find our exercises for the contest to be inade-quate it does not necessarily follow that all exercises are fruitless. What more appropriate time is there for re-examining and reassessing our own commit-ment to and training for the contests of life than now in this Holy Year of renewal and reconciliation with its special focus on personal, interior renewal? Necessity of Re-affirming the Value of Mortification From our discussion of the possible reactions to the experience of suffering and death, it is clear that total acceptance and creative affirmation of them in hope is not man's natural, spontaneous response. The mere acceptance of suf-fering and death as inevitable and a willingness to face it as it comes along is not enough in view of the Christian's radical call to affirm and give himself fully to these realities. If these "contests" are seen to hold out to every man the prize of the very meaning of all life, then they are not simply "contests" which we resign ourselves to entering, but "contests" to be trained and prepared for. A spontaneous response of faith and hope in the face of suffering and death springs from a person who has already radically affirmed these realities in the actions of his own life. The way a person affirms any values in his life is by means of the actions he freely chooses. It would seem that self-chosen acts of self-denial affect the depths of a person in a very special way that fate-imposed
Issue 28.5 of the Review for Religious, 1969. ; 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 VOR R~Joxous; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63to3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with eccleslastmal appro~ d by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louts Umverslty, the editorial olhces being located at 612 Humboldt Building, 539 North Grand Boulevard, Same Louts, ~dlssouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright t~) 1969by REVIEW roa REt.lmo~s at 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Mars-land 21202. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, Maryland and at additional mailing offices. 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, $10.00 for two years Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money orderpaya-hie to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in LI.S.A currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REview vor~ RELIGIOL$ Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions, where accom-panied by a remittance, should be sent to REvlF.w vo~ RELInIot~s; P. O. Box 671; Baltimore, Maryland 21203. Changes of address, business correspondence, and orders not accompanied by a remittance should be sent to REvIEw FOR RELIGIOUS; 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21202. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to R~vmw FOrt RE~.IoIot:s; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard, Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. SEPTEMBER 1969 VOLUME 28 NUMBER 5 JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL, S.J. Some Reflections on the Religious Life It is no secret that today many religious are under-going a painful identity crisis. Participating in the con-fusion that always accompanies dramatic change in cul-tural patterns (complicated by the extreme rapidity of this change in our modern world), religious are further troubled by the problems posed very existentially to them in their effort to obey the call of Vatican II to renew their authentic living of the gospel pattern ac-cording to the original inspiration of their founder and to adapt their way of living to the signs of the times. The breakdown of external structures which in the past had supported their interior commitment, the loss of comforting customs which had provided a kind of.touch-stone of authenticity (however formalized one felt them to be), the disconcerting shift of attitudes toward the place of the religious life within the Church, the value placed upon active insertion into a secularized world, the challenges to faith itself posed by new theological and liturgical languages and symbols--all of these fac-tors together have brought up in' the minds of many religious agonizing questions concerning the value and even the validity of their lives. A basic question that is often repeated is whether it is possible to specifically distinguish religious life from lay life as a Christian. Having grown up in a culture that took it for granted that the religious life was the "way of perfection" and a "higher" or "better" form of Christian living and, perhaps, having included this idea within the complex of personal motives for following the vocation to the religious life, some re-ligious feel lost and without identity in a world where such abstract and tendentious comparisons are no longer significant. Members of various religious congregations wonder whether there is anything really meaningful in their specific vocation. A divisive and potentially death- 'dealing polarization develops in some communities be- John Carroll Futrell, S.J., is a faculty member of St. Louis University Divinity School; 220 North Spring Ave-nue; St. Louis, Mis-souri 63108. VOL~UME 28, 1969 705 + ÷ ÷ ~lohn Carroll Futrell, $.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tween those who cling for personal survival to old structures of living, praying, and working, and those who are impatient to reject all that has gone before and to embrace all that is new simply because it is new. The following reflections are addressed to only some aspects of these difficult problems. Much time and prayer Will be needed before effective solutions are found to .them. Nevertheless, it is important that religious do reflect upon them and that they share their reflections with one another in an effort to discern what God is asking of us as religious in our own times. What is offered in the following pages, then, are some reflections, firstly, on the meaning of Christian spirituality in it-self-- whether lived by laymen or by religious; then, on the accurate location of the difference between lay life and religious life; and, finally, on the religious life as institutionalized in the Church and on the function of community structures within religious congregations. A Christian is a person whose life in the world derives its meaning from his faith in Jesus Christ encountered in His Church--who discovers in Jesus Christ God re-vealing Himself to man, judging and freeing us by the cross and resurrection of Christ, and sending His Spirit to enable us to share now and forever in the divine life of the Trinitarian community of love. Ad-herence to a creed of truths, following a moral code, commitment to living out certain religious values: all these are consequences of the basic faith experience of the person of Jesus Christ. A person who merely in-tellectually assents to propositions or who merely decides to espouse certain humanitarian values derived from the gospel is not truly a Christian unless these positions are expressions of his commitment in faith to Jesus Christ and of his belief in the good news which Christ proclaimed. When this faith in Jesus Christ is freely and de-cisively assumed as personal commitment by a person (and not merely as a sociological fact of "religion" in his life), this is the result of a personal experience of the person of Jesus Christ. That is to say, the individual recognizes in the divine revelation in Christ, witnessed to by the Apostles and handed down by the Church, the identification of the universal experience of the trans-cendent- the unknown God obscurely encountered in the openness of the human spirit to the mysterious Absolute. In spite of all the various scientific, philo-sophical, psychological, and magical efforts to explain away this experience, it remains real and undeniable in the self-awareness of human beings who have achieved a certain level of consciousness. Indeed, most children seem to have a real experience of God when they are very young. Wordsworth wrote reams of poetry testifying to this. Teilhard de Chardin has written eloquently of the growth of his experience in The Divine Milieu and has pointed out the errors into which men have fallen "in their attempts to place or even to name the uni-versal Smile" (Torch Books, p. 129). Contact with the Other who makes us feel his presence-in-absence in this experience has been the underlying goal of all the great world religions--and of the psychedelic games of today. The Christian is the person who recognizes in Jesus Christ the face of God: "I am in the Father and the Father is in me." Christian faith experience, then, is the consciousness ¯ of recognition: a recognition of the one true God ex-perienced in one's own interior experience of fulfill-ment, of completion, of "coming home" in faith in Jesus Christ; a recognition experienced also in seeing the lives of Christians who embody the word proclaimed by the Church, in the word of Scripture, in the break-ing of the Eucharistic bread, and progressively in one's own experience of new manhood through lived faith. Faith is certitude derived from the authenticity of witness---of signs--and experienced through living it. It is vital to recognize the particular form of certitude had in faith. It is the certitude of experiential experi-ence, the certitude that comes from fully experienced living. This is the highest form of practical certitude enjoyed by human beings, the form of certitude upon which we base our actual living. It has been well said that "theory is good, but it does not excuse you from living." Men do not guide their lives by the coherent symmetry of logical theories but by the practical under-standing that comes from the certitude of lived ex-perience. For example, the only way that I know that another person really loves me is by faith certitude. I cannot "get into the skin of another," cannot share the unique and incommunicable act of self-awareness within which the other freely determines his relation-ships to all that is exterior to himself---including me. My assurance that he does indeed love me can be based only on signs--words, gestures, all the human modes of non-verbal communication, actions of self-giving, and so forth. Yet, I can come to the greatest certitude of his love because of my lived experience of it. The certitude of faith in Jesus Christ, then, is the certitude of lived experience. It is faith--not the knowl-edge derived from empirical experience of the senses or of microscopes or test tubes, not the knowledge result-ing from the logical necessity of a syllogism, but faith + + 4. VOLUME 28, '1969 707 John Futrell, $.]. REV]EW FOR RELIGIOUS in witness and signs authenticated in the living per-sonal experience of God in the person of Jesus Christ risen and living in His Church. The experience of God is always the experience of presence-in-absence, just as is the experience of personal relationship with any person. Because another person is constituted in his selfhood by his unique self-aware-ness, there always remains a new depth of his person to be penetrated, a further horizon of mutual knowledge and love to beckon us onward. The greatest degree of union and love we reach in our mutual presence always opens outwards to a new profundity yet to be sought --the fascinating and wonderful absence discovered in mutual presence which makes personal relationship a dynamic always growing life and not a gtatic, finished work. Our personal relationship with God in prayer is characterized by this same presence-in-absence, this same experienced love and union, this same certitude of something being lived. Indeed, even our self-awareness is marked by presence-in-absence. The only "I" that I am is the self of the present moment summing up all my past history and straining towards my future self-actualization. But I never grasp this present of myself: it slips into my past even as I try to focus upon it. I know the present, my present, only in the lived experieuce of a unique kind of actuality, of plenitude, of density and richness. I know myself with certitude as presence-in-absence. In the lived experience of God as presence-in-absence in prayer, there is a similar plenitude, richness, density, actuality; and in opening ourselves to welcome God in this experience, we are conscious of a profound tran-quillity, peace, calm--a recognition of "rightness," of our authentic, fulfilled selves. It is this primordial ex-perience of peace in absolute openness to God, in total responsiveness to His word, which, is the touchstone of all future discernment of specific response to a specific divine call in a here and now situation. This experi-enced certitude of lived faith is discovered through the authentic testimony of witnesses who embody the word for us, and it is grasped in our own act of faith because of the signs manifested by these witnesses. This certitude grows progressively stronger as we have the living experience of our own faith, until our faith in God in Jesus Christ becomes the greatest certitude of our lives, a certitude daily renewed and accomplished anew everyday, just as is our love of another. On the other hand, it is important to notice the es-sential difference between the experience of personal relations with other human persons and with God in Christ. Another human is bodily present to me and his body mediates his interiority to me. God is not bodily present to me nor is the risen Christ in His human body. I cannot affirm the existence of God as the basis of the experience of his presence-in-absence as I can affirm the existence of another man. Even philosophical demonstrations of the existence of God, while they may be perfectly valid, do not give me God as the object of interior experience. For this reason, even the greatest mystics have always testified that they never felt that their interior experi-ence placed them outside the domain of faith. It is al-ways by faith, which is essentially a divine gift originat-ing from a gracious divine initiative, that we come to realize our experience of God in Christ. The Christian life, then, is a faith--a life of faith. No matter how we analyze the spiritual life according to human scien-tific categories, the object of our experience never leaves the realm of faith. That is why divine revelation in the Bible in no way claims to be a theory of our relations with God. On the contrary, it is the history of this relation which is there taught. And it is fundamental that the origin of our existence and of our reIationship with God is His divine initiative, that the beginning of this history is divine. This fact exactly situates the continuing relationship between God and us: every-thing depends upon His divine initiative. Faith is al-ways a gift. To be a Christian, then, means to live a life grounded in the personal faith experience of God in Jesus Christ. Now, human beings first experience--first live, and only thereafter do they seek to express their experiences and to reflect upon them. It is vital, therefore, to dis-tinguish the lived experience from its expression and from theoretical reflection upon this expression. In the life of the Church, lived Christian experience, the living tradition of the Christ-event as experienced by the community of believers, is primordial. The expressions of this experience at various historical and cultural epochs during the last two thousand years are only temporally conditioned, relative expressions of this ex-perience. The role of theology within the Church is always the re-expression and the re-interpretation of this primordial Christian experience in contemporary language, contemporary conceptual structures, contem-porary cultural contexts. What is essential is always authentically to preserve spiritual continuity across rad-ical cultural discontinuity. Similarly, the faith experience of an individual Chris-tian, beginning with his earliest experiences of God as a child, are necessarily conditioned in their relative expression by the language, the. symbols, the images ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Li]e VOLUME 28, 1969 709 John Carroll REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~10 available to him at a given age and stage of maturity. As he grows humanly and intellectually and rejects the anthropomorphic images of early childhood, such as God the kind grandaddy with a long beard, or the romantic idealizations of adolescence (which were the only modes of expression then available to him), he must not at the same time reject his certitude of the lived experience of God. All the great masters of prayer testify that prayer becomes progressively simpler, more and more leaning upon bare faith, less and less at-tached to a series of concepts or emotions. This is because one is entering more profoundly into the density and richness of God's presence-in-absence, into the lived experience of personal union with God in Christ which is beyond expression and theorizing. There is no greater certitude in life than this lived experience of God. The individual Christian, too, must preserve au-thentic spiritual continuity across the radical discon-tinuity of his language and images and symbols as he grOWS. Now, the Christian, having found the meaning of his life in the world in his faith in Jesus Christ, must live this faith in all the situations of his daily life. He must witness to his faith by a Christian style of life, a Christian spirituality. This is always true of all Chris-tians, even though the concrete expressions of this life style are relative to the historical and cultural context and the concrete situations within which Christianity is being lived. The essential elements of Christian spirituality are always the same: living out Christ's great command-ment of love according ~o the general norms He enunci-ated in the Beatitudes and exemplified in His life. How-ever, these essential elements will be expressed in different ways discerned by prophetically interpreting ex-istential situations, that is to say, by prayerfully reflect-ing upon the challenges posed by the signs of the times in the light of the gospel, in order to recognize and respond to God's word here and now. It is through listening to the world--the existential word of God--- and at the same time listening to the Spirit--the pro-phetic word of God in Christ in the Church and in the individual Christian--that through a continuing dia-lectic the Christian discerns how to live his Christian faith here and now. He confirms the validity of the decision arrived at through this discernment by com-paring his inner experience of peace and tranquillity in this specific choice with the peace and tranquillity enjoyed in his primordial experience of openness and surrender to God in Christ. All Christians are called to this essential Christian spirituality. In living their discerned life style, all Chris-tians must witness to both the incarnational and the eschatological aspects of the Christ life which animates the Church: the presence of the Spirit of the risen Christ in His Church renewing tile earth by unifying mankind and transforming the universe--building the earth to its fulfillment in Christ-Pleroma; and also the Christian hope in Christ who is to come in the final accomplish-ment of the kingdom of God in the Parousia. All Chris-tians must express the "cosmological" love of God im-manent in the ongoing new creation accomplished by the Spirit of Christ through the efforts of men in the history of the world; and all must express the "trans-cendent" love of God the absolute future of man--the Father who is known only in Christ, the Trinitarian community of love which will be shared perfectly by men in their union with one another and with the Father in Christ through the Spirit when Christ comes again. The manner in which individual Christians are to express ,this twofold Christian love is discerned in the here and now situation of their own historical and cultural context. This individual expression takes place within the community of Christians and is grounded in the initiative that comes from God: different gifts, dif-ferent charisms, different divine initiatives, different calls--all for the service of the entire People of God, all ordered to the community expression of the Christ life in the world and to the embodiment of the two aspects of Christian love. II Essentially, then, there is only one Christian spirit-ualitv, always aimed at the full possession of all men b~ tl~e Father through Christ in the Spirit. This is true because there is only one essential Christian vision of the meaning of life in the world, a vision based upon the faith experience of God revealing Himself to men in Christ through the Spirit living in the Church. The differences in the manner of living out this one spirituality originate in the various expressions of this spirituality determined by historical and cultural con-texts and, also, in the different charisms given by the Holy Spirit to individual Christians to enable them to serve the Church in specific ways. The distinctive func-tions within the Church of bishops, priests, religious, and laymen are grounded in these different charisms. The distinctive styles of life or spiritualities observable in the lives of married persons and religious are simply distinctive ways of living the one Christian spirituality ÷ VOLUME 28, 1969 ~ohn Carroll ~ Futrell, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS which must he fully expressed by the whole Church as a community. For instance, an essential element in the one spirit-uality of all Christians is evangelical poverty in its root meaning of an attitude (a beatitudel) of anawim: aware-ness of man's dependence upon God in Christ resulting in single-hearted seeking of God and issuing in acts of peacemaking and of mercy towards others. This attitude must be embodied by all Christians in lives showing forth the two-fold incarnational and eschato-logical Christian love. Living as anawim according to the Beatitudes, all Christians often will discern the call to acts of renunciation of real human values in order to be true to their faith in Christ; and these actions will witness not only to their faith in the risen Christ present in the Church and renewing creation here and now, but also to their eternal hope in Him who is to come in the final fulfillment of the kingdom--their existen-tial acknowledgment of God as the absolute future of man in Christ. The vowed evangelical poverty and chastity and obedience of Christians who are called to the religious life, then, is not the only way to practice or to express the eschatological aspect of Christian love. Neverthe-less, the life of the vows is the only way to manifest this aspect through the signification of an entire life to bear permanent, visible witness to it in the world. Any Christian living out his Christianity authentically .is called upon in many ways to renounce various goods and values in order to take up his cross and follow Jesus. Think of men and women who in order to fulfill their vocation in the sacrament of marriage or as parents or as truly just and loving neighbors to other men are challenged to sacrifice desirable goods and values for the sake of fidelity to Christ in their daily lives. Never-theless, the overall, visible style of li[e of the l~y Christian in its permanent life pattern manifests above all the aspect of Christian love in the Church which is to work in the world in order to transform it in Christ, continuing the incarnation of Christ by building the earth. Although this Christian lay life includes and, when necessary, expresses the eschatological aspect of the Church, it shows forth in its basic dynamism the in-carnational aspect. On the .other hand, a religious in his actual work of serving the Church normally is equally engaged in the ,work of building up Christ in mankind and in the world. He too lives and expresses the incarnational as-pect to the Church. But by the public foregoing of the 'high, positive, human values renounced through his vows, the total meaning of the being-in-the-world of the religious becomes the tangible insertion into this incarnational dynamism of the eschatological aspect which is visibly manifested through the overall, perma-nent pattern of life according to the evangelical coun-sels. To make permanently visible to men this eschato-logical dimension of the Church is the specific meaning of the religious life as a distinctive way of living Christianity. As Karl Rahner has pointed out, that which con-stitutes the unique signification of the vowed evangelical counsels in the religious life is that this is the perma-nent foregoing of high, positive, human values for the sake of a value which cannot be the object of a direct experience, a value which necessarily must be believed in and hoped [or. By their vows religious abandon a possible experience in favor of a value that is now possessed only in faith and hope. That is to say, it is possible for me to have the experience of possessing the results of my work, of having a wife and children, of exercising my own autonomy of choice; but I possess the value of the fulfillment of the kingdom now only in my faith and hope in Christ who is to come. The re-nunciation of the vows is a visible manifestation of permanent and absolute openness to God's future for man in Christ. This renunciation, therefore, is the visible expression and the continual realization of love for God much more in the eschatological dimension of this love than in its terrestrial or incarnational dimen-sion. Even the unbeliever must recognize the meaning of a gesture of faith and hope and love which is the perma-nent renunciation of these positive human, values through the vows. For example, a man in vowing chas-tity "puts his body on the line" until death because of his faith and hope and love of Christ who is to come, and thereby he visibly witnesses in a most striking way to this faith and hope and love. One can believe that this faith and hope and love is absurd, but one cannot deny its depth in the People of God among whom it can call forth such a visible testimony. All Christians, then,--religious and lay--must live both incarnational and eschatological love. But the over-all pattern and significance of the Christian lay vocation is visible witness to the incarnational aspect of the Church, while the overall pattern and significance of the religious life of the vowed evangelical counsels is visible witness to the eschatological aspect. The distinction between lay life and religious life in the Church, therefore, is not to be sought in a difference of the basic Christian vision o~ of the essential Christian spirituality. The distinction is. to be sought, 4. VOLUME 28a 1969 ÷ John Carroll Futrell, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS rather, in the variety of charisms and the different modes of response to the divine initiative. The difference arises from distinctive ways of living the one Christian life, that is, particular ways of responding to and of ex-pressing the love of God through following Christ within a permanent life pattern having a specifically different, total, overall signification than do other particular ways of living Christianity. Whatever might be concluded through theoretical discussions based upon various hier-archical models, there can be no question in the real order of one Christian way of life being "higher" or "better" than another. It is a question rather of a charism, of the divine initiative and authentic response to it which can only be the "best" for the individual person responding to God's call to him. III A community of persons has a history, just as does an individual person. In the history of the community of Christian believers, the Church, there has been from the beginning an evolution of "structured" charisms, dis-cerned by the community as authentic responses to the divine initiative for service of the People of God. These structured charisms have been lived by groups of in-dividuals who have been given these charisms, organiz-ing themselves into institutionalized communities for service of the Church through lives devoted primarily either to prayer, to spiritual or corporal works of mercy, or to apostolic mission. In this way, the religious life developed as a distinctive, institutionalized way of liv-ing Christianity, eventually having its own juridical description in canon law. From the groups congregat-ing around St. Antony in the desert to the official recognition of secular institutes in 1948, this evolution has continued (as it still does) in the response of Chris-tians to divine initiatives within diverse historical and cultural contexts. A Christian who discerns that he has been given the charism of service of the Church in the religious life enters into the institutional structure of this charism by public, vowed commitment to the three evangelical counsels, declared to the whole People of God repre-sented by the one who in the name of the Church re-ceives the vows. By so doing, this Christian establishes himself in a permanent, distinctive life style which has a special and unique force as a sign of one aspect of the one spirituality of the entire Christian commu-nity. His response to the divine initiative is, therefore, his acceptance of the charism of his vocation. The personal experience of Jesus Christ is the basis of all Christian faith. When this experience is char- acterized by certain qualities, the result is that one is simply impelled to give his whole life and all his love to Jesus Christ through living the vowed evangelical counsels. Depending upon certain other characteristics of this personal experience of Jesus Ctirist, one feels simply impelled to consecrate all his life and energy to prayer for the People of God in the contemplative life or to their active service and to helping other persons to share this faith experience of Jesus Christ through apostolic mission. This Christian's whole life as a re-ligious is grounded in this faith experience; and it depends for its growth and depth and permanence upon the growth and depth and permanence of his personal relationship to Jesus Christ in love. The original charism must come to its complete fulfillment. The individual choice to live the religious life in one specific religious community rather than another is the result of the judgment that one's own response to the divine initiative discerned in the charism of his vocation can be best embodied in this specific community voca-tion. He discovers his personal identity as a Christian person precisely in the community identity of this re-ligious order or congregation. The community identity of a given religious congre-gation is rooted in the original inspiration of the founder(s), the basic vision of a particular way of follow-ing Christ, which underlies all the different techniques devised to try to live out this vision within different historical and cultural contexts. Where, as in many apostolic congregations, the basic vision of various com-mumtles as similar or even identical, the specific differ-ence of these congregations arises from their particular approach to service or mission and from the history of each congregation in living out the basic vision. The history of an institution progressively charac-terizes this institution in its identity, just as the personal history of a man characterizes his identity. A man of forty carries with him the accumulated characteristics oflhis own personal evolution. His face and body and psychology are marked by specific traits by which he identifies himself to himself and by which other people identify him. This is equally true of different religious congregations. That which is essential today, then, in order to ac-complish authentic renewal of religious congregations is to truly discover the original inspiration of the founder, the basic vision, the radical intention neces-sarily expressed by the founder in the language (images, symbols, gestures, practices, ways of action) of his own historical and cultural context. 0nly when this basic vision is clear is it possible to discern how to express it ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Li~e VOLUME 28~ 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ John Carroll Futrell, S.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS authentically in the new language imposed upon us by the signs of our times: to preserve spiritual con-tinuity across cultural discontinuity. Furthermore, since there is no infallible guarantee of the permanent worth of this basic vision, and since charisms can be given for time-conditioned service of the People of God, it must be discerned whether or not the basic vision and, so, the existence of a given religious congregation is still valid and valuable in the ongoing life of the Church. When it is discerned that a religious congregation can still make a real contribution to the life and mission of the Church, then courageous and loyal adaptation of life style must be undertaken in order to renew the true embodiment of the basic vision of this community here and now. Whatever means are discerned to be authentic and effective for this end, these will have to be structured into the life of the community. The com-munity is made up of individual body-persons who find their own personal identity in the community identity. Their mutual union in this community of persons is grounded in this profound identification of life meaning which they share with one another. Unless this profound union is embodied in some really ex-perienced way in common worship, common ways of living, common service of the Church, it is inevitable that it will float off into the realm of pure abstract theory, an ideal existing only as a dream. During a time of dramatic cultural change such as we are now experiencing, it is clear that there must be much experimentation with community structures, al-ways discerned according to the criterion of the re-newed basic vision of the community. Indeed, at present the indications are that much pluralism must be al-lowed. But especially during a time of pluralistic ex-periments, ways must be found to embody the total unity of the entire community sufficiently and frequently enough to keep it real. This is absolutely imposed upon us because we are body-persons, a fact too often forgotten with disastrous results. The fundamental problem posed by the necessity of embodying community unity through some form of structures is the continual need to carry on the dialectic of the individual good and the common good, personal initiative and aspirations and community ideals and commitments. The aim should be to effect a synthesis of these personal and community elements as often as possible through true mutual discernment. But when such a synthesis proves impossible, after this discern-ment, it is the universal good of the community which must be given priority in making decisions, precisely because the personal identity of each individual member is found in the community identity. In any community, even that of two persons in marriage, there is a new reality larger than each individual 'T': it is the reality of "we." The final word must always be given to this Because of the depth of their union grounded in common personal identity, the persons belonging to a religious community have a unique foundation for true, warm, human mutual love. This love must be experi-enced and embodied in aII the ways that go to establish and develop human interpersonal relationships and to confronting difficulties of temperament, disagreement, misunderstanding, and so forth. Since this union is the result of divinely given charisms, every effort must be made to share the basic faith experience of Jesus Christ which is the source of the communion of persons in this religious community. Because the individual experience itself is not verbal but lived, this sharing must be chiefly on the level of non-verbal communication. Here communitarian prayer can be very effective. Listening to another praying to God, even in language that I myself couhl not use, is a most effective way to come to the recognition that he shares the same faith experience of Jesus Christ, the same charism, the same response of life commitment, as do I. If the members of a religious community do share the basic faith experience of Jesus Christ which grounds their unity and their life together, then they will be enabled to grow in true human love for one another. Where there is profound union and an atmosphere of mutual love, it is possible to disagree (even violently) about means to ends without becoming polarized and, finally, disunited and destroyed as a community. Dif-ferences will be seen for what they are: differences of language and symbols which are conditioned by cultural contexts and, so, are completely relative, deriving their value only from their effectiveness in embodying the basic vision which remains the ground of union. Where deep union and mutual love are present, it will be recognized that persons in the community in responding to community-discerned adaptations are not to be condemned if they find it difficult to adjust to what for them is a new and foreign language to express their personal identity issuing from their personal faith experience of Jesus Christ. This is a matter of the dif-ficulty of changing ways of structuring and of expressing experience which have been built up over a lifetime, rather than a matter of a negative attitude to renewal and adaptation. The only attitude that one must change (whether he be "traditionally" or "progressively" oriented) is that 4. Religious Li~e VOLUME 28~ 1969 4" 4" ÷ John Carroll Futrell, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS o[ fixation: confusing language with experience and means with ends and insisting that unless things are done my way, they cannot be authentically Christian. This is equivalent to saying: "If you speak French in-stead of American English, you cannot be expressing truly human thoughts and feelings." Redemption from fixation--and from polarization--will be achieved through sharing the faith experience of Jesus Christ and only thereafter attempting to find a language to express this experience. These reflections have led to the conclusion that the religious has his personal identity through his response to a particular divine initiative, his acceptance of a special charism discerned in the characteristics of his personal faith experience of Jesus Christ. The religious embodies his response to this charism by vowing himself to the life of the evangelical counsels in a specific re-ligious community. This means that he commits him-self to witness visibly by the total signification of his overall pattern of life to the eschatological aspect of Christian love lived in the Church. Within the community of Christians, all of whom ~hare one Christian spirituality, the distinctive role of the religious is permanently to manifest the faith and hope of the entire People of God in Christ who is to COmae. The religious' life of union with his companions in his own religious community is a life of mutual love grounded in the community identity of shared faith experience of Christ, which is expressed in the basic vision of this community's service of Christ in His Church, and which is embodied in community struc-tures adapted to the signs of the times through authentic discernment. The way towards a solution of the difficult problems being experienced by religious today, therefore, would seem above all to be the way of a universal renewal in all religious of their profound, personal faith experi-ence of Jesus Christ and a renewal of their mutual union and mutual love through mutually sharing this experience. It is through union with Jesus Christ that we shall achieve communion with one another. EDWARD G. BOZZO, C.F.X. Being-toward- Community:. Essence oJ Religious Life As the over-delayed Instruction (dated Jan. 6, 1969) from the Congregation of Religious concedes, the forma-tion of young religious is a topic of deep concern today. Leaving to others the full assessment of that ,uneven document which, in my view, hovers indecisively between old and new theologies, between an essentially juridical conception of religious life and some attempt to touch its theological pith, what I would urge is that religious life is dominantly about community and that this must be sustained as the master idea in considering every phase of its renewal. Though this is a simplification un-less qualified as I hope to do further on in this article, it is at present the hermeneutical wedge needed to cut through the complexities renewal involves. If, I submit, in the light of the recent Instruction, religious congrega-tions attempt to grapple with formation as a problem apart from the religious life as centrally concerned with creating and maintaining community, their adaptations of formation programs will be misfocused or foundering. As is evident from my intentional use of first person references, I present a personal (though I hope not un-substantiated) point of view as forcefully as I can. In doing so I make no claim to infallibility but hope that in presenting a position as vigorously as possible that I might at the very least provide the reader with a means of clarifying his own notions of the religious life, even if it be by disagreeing with those presented here. Though my topic is the general import of the idea that religious life is essentially the sustained effort toward community, let me begin by briefly stating the connection between this thesis and the specific question of the forma-tion of young religious. And let me begin this brief Edward Bozzo, C.F.X., is a mem-ber of Xaverian College; I0000 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Springs, Md. 2090~1. VOLUME 28, 1969 + 4. Edward G. Bozzo, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS treatment from the juridical aspect of the religious life --a perhaps more familiar starting point to middle-aged religious--that irrelevant species of which I am a member. Two other prenotes: I write as a member of what is usually called an active religious congregation and I beg pardon of any sister who might read this for main-taining masculine references throughout. Men become religious, in the technical sense, by pro-nouncing vows to God through His visible Church. These vows are called public in a technical sense, namely, that the Church so designates and recognizes them as con-stituting a person in the religious state. To describe how these spare juridical facts occur in actual life, how-ever, it would have to be added that a person becomes a religious by joining a specific religious institute approved by the Church. This datum is [taught with significance. Among other things, it means that one's chief source of awareness of what being a religious means comes ~rom the particular religious with whom he lives. One's idea of what the practice of the vows means, of the style of life to which they give rise, one's idea of life in common and dedicated service to others--all of these one learns from the religious with whom one lives. (;anon law and the institute's constitutions, no matter how well expressed, capture these realities only partially and in bare out-line. I Both are theoretical instruments which subserve the experience of religious life which latter holds the primacy, not vice versa.2 Since one's self-definition as a religious, for one's whole life as a religious, has its source in the lives of the reli-gious with whom one lives, it follows that our life in 1 See Friedrich Wulf, "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life," in Commentary on the Documents o[ Vatican II, v. 2, ed. Herbert Vorgrimler (New York: Herder and Herder, 1968), p. 303, where Wulf notes that it will take religious congrega-tions a long time to overcome the narrowness which has plagued the official ecclesiastical concept of the religious life, especially since the 19th century. See also pp. 338, 340, and 362. ~ In philosophical terms, though we always need theory, it is ex-perience, the practical, which holds the primacy. Theory derives from practice and serves practice. To reverse this order is to create a host of difficulties in daily life. See John Macmurray, The Sel[ as .4gent (London: Faber and Faber, 1957), pp. 17ft. As regards religious life, it is necessary to recall not only that theory derives from experience and helps to interpret experience, but also that the theoretical apparatus has been overjuridical in its emphasis. Hence, even though theory is subservient to experience, now as never before, religious life requires work on its theoretical base. As Wulf remarks in commenting on chapters five and six of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church: "The theology of the reli-gious state is only in the making," Commentary on the Documents o] Vatican //, v. 1, ed. Herbert Vorgrimler (New York: Herder and Herder, 1967), p. 278. See Wulf in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. $43: "Religious life today, that of active orders in particular, is becoming less and less amenable to detailed regulation." common is and ever remains the formative influence in our lives. Religious life does not escape the law of our lives as persons: we need one another to be ourselves,s Indeed, religious life aims to express this with a force un-paralleled by other styles of life.4 Whether or not they really believe it, at least many religious are now saying that religious formation never ends. The principal reason why it does not is that we ever depend on our fellow religious for discovering the implications of our lives as persons dedicated to God.5 The practical consequence of these facts for our con-gregations is that each one of us, whether he acknowl-edges the fact or prefers to dwell in illusion, plays a form-ative role. He cannot shirk this fact, nor the obligation arising from it by pretending that it is the novice master's job or the task of a group or team more particularly associated with young religious. For all of us formation is continual so long as we lead lives of mutual interde-pendence-- a phrase which describes our very condition as persons, and therefore our lives as religious as well. Under either head, life in common is essential. From the point of view of formation, personal and religious, our lives of mutual interdependence constitute our chief source of strength and progress, as well as the source of our obligation to live for our fellows. It scarcely needs mentioning that this mode of dis-course is currently employed to talk of Christian life in general and that there is nothing particularly distinctive about it so as to mark off religious as a spedal class,o That 8 See John Macmurray, Persons in Relation (London: Faber and Faber, 1961), p. 211. ' "The theological and spiritual new mentality which the council introduced into the religious orders has forced us to pose anew the question about the structures of religious life. To begin with we must mention the fundamental law which was present at the founding of every religious order, and which has moved into the forefront of Christian thought today in a specially urgent manner: the law of brotherliness" (Wulf in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. 330). ~ Obviously this does not preclude a religious learning from those not members of the religious fraternity. See Wulf in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. 339: "Common prayer, spiritual conversation among brethren and sisters--things which in fact make them brethren and sisters-- alone cause all of their efforts to bear fruit. The place where spiritual renewal happens is in the small group. The more a com-munity fosters these small groups, the greater the hope that the work of the general chapter will go beyond mere words and regula-tions, and reach out into real life." e Commenting on Chapter 5 of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Wulf, in Vorgrimler, v. 1, pp, 267-8, writes: "We are all set a single goal, one and the same Christian holiness (the degree of which., can and does vary according, to the vocation and the measure of grace allotted to each man). Ultimately, there-fore, there is only one kind of Christian life, and its nature is briefly sketched for us here: (1) The inward road that leads a Christian to his salvation (and often the outward road as well) + + .I-Being- toward. Community VOLUME 28, 1969 + ÷ ÷ Edward G. Bozzo, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS should not be surprising, since the religious life is not .a. privileged class existence, but the Christian life lived with utter seriousness. It has been the custom to define religious life in terms of Christian life. Hence, when individualistic notions of Christian life prevailed, reli-gious life--Christian calling lived intensely--was defined in individualistic patterns. When the dominant con-ception of Christian life was saving one's soul, the concomitant conception of religious life was a perfec-tion that made little of the social dimension of personal and Christian progress.7 Thanks to a host of long germinating movements in the field of theology itself (Biblical studies, for example) and in the world of thought more generally (most signifi-cantly in philosophy), individualism is seen now as an unrealistic way of conceptualizing personal existence,s As persons we do not possess any fullness of ourselves alone. We do not store up richness of interiority on our own and then issue forth to bestow our largesse upon others if and when we feel magnanimous enough to do depends at the deepest level on the guidance of the Holy Ghost and the promptings of his grace. (2) At every turn, therefore, in every situation he encounters, the Christiau must listen for the voice of the Spirit making known God's will for him., and obey it. This obedience is what the gospel calls adoring the Father in spirit and in truth (cf. Jn 4:23), and it means utter openness to God and utter docility to him. (3) Within the framework of the Christian dis-pensation taking this road means following the poor and humble Christ as he carries the Cross. (4) On this road the main business of the Christian is a living faith that stirs up hope and acts through love. At a time when every state of life and every community in the Church is trying to expound its own particular spirituality (and often ineptly), it is well for this Constitution to remind us of the one fundamental Christian spirituality of Scripture and tradition." Further: "What they all have in common is this: that Christian sanctification is not a road running parallel to the road of one's ordiuary life and work, but is a thing achieved in and through one's state of life with its daily tasks, in and through the concrete circumstances and events of one's existence." ~See Wulf in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. 347, n. 11 especially. As Rahner writes: "This sense of being responsible for my brother, not only for his earthly needs but precisely for his eternal salvation, may be nothing short of decisive for my own eternal salvation. This is not sublime egoism. The realization that unless one loves selflessly one is risking one's own salvatiou does not imply some higher form of egoism. It is the scale by which I can measure how absolutely necessary is concern for my brother's salvation. The possibility that he has of working out his salvation without me means that he owes me nothing. But I can find myself only if I find my brother. The whole of life has got to be a forward movement towards loving my brother. I must love my brother, and in that love forget myself. If I do that, I am an apostle. If I do not do it, I am ultimately lost" (Karl Rahner, Christian in the Market Place [New York: Sheed and Ward, 1966], pp. 13-4). ~ See William F. Lynch, Images o] Hope (New York: New Ameri-can Library, 1966), p. 185. so.0 Hard as it may be for men, especially Americans, to swallow it, no one in his existence as a person exists in-dependently of other persons.10 The terminus a quo of personal life is a complete dependence on a personal other and the terminus acl quem is not rugged individ-ualism but interdependence with others.11 Personal exis-tence is and ever remains conditional upon mutuality with other persons. Failure to live according to this basic norm of our being is, in William F. Lynch's view, one of the root causes of mental illness. In religious terms it is Pelagianism. As Biblical studies have made apparent with ever increasing emphasis and as the recent conciliar documents attest, God calls us as He did Israel, as a people; He saves us as a people; .we worship Him as a people. In short, Christianity is fraternal faith, demon-strated in fraternal concern for others, Christians or not, for Christian faith is a progressive assimilation to the Father's only Son who is universal in His concern--in His life, His death and His eternal priestly intercession in behalf of all men.12 In yielding to the Spirit, in allowing Him to consume our selfishness, we are made Jesus all over againJ~ In him all walls of separation from our fel-lows crumble (see Gal 2:llff). With the growing appreciation that Christian life is a OAs Kwant writes: "We are intentional beings and not centered on ourselves. We achieve a meaningful existence through the reali-zation of values. The situation is not such that we find first in ourselves, in our so-called interiority, the fullness of meaning and value and that, next, our giving of meaning in the world and in encounters with other human beings are an effusion of our interior fullness. Divorced from the world and from the others, there is only emptiness in ourselves" (Remy Kwant, Phenomenology o] Social Existence [Pittsburgh: Duquesne University, 1965], p. 239). ~°See Lynch, lmages, pp. 19-20 and 31. n See John Macmurray, Persons in Relation, p. 66. = "The first characteristic of faith today I should like to stress can be summed up in one word: brotherly . Faith both presup-poses the community and creates it; the courage to believe is always born of a pentecostal event, where many are gathered together in unity of purpose. Faith is our confidence in the personal experience of others, a conviction gained through the power of the Spirit which is at work in others, our personal experience of the Spirit given to us for the sake of others, This permanent characteristic of faith., should be one of the most notable characteristics of the form of faith today. It cannot be sufficiently stressed, however, that this brotherly love is not directed towards an abstract but toward our actual brother here and now, our 'neighbor' " (Karl Rahner, Belie] Today [New York: Sheed and Ward, 1967], pp. 54-5). as See Barnabas Ahern, New Horizons (Notre Dame: Fides Dome Book, 1965), p. 94 and passim; Piet Fransen, "Towards a Psychology of Divine Grace," Cross Currents, v. 8 (1958), p. 219; Franqois ¯ Roustang, Growth in the Spirit (New York: Sheed ~ Ward, 1966), p. 21; and Amed~e Hallier, "God is Friendship: the Key to Aelred of Rievaulx's Christian Humanism," American Benedictine Reoiew, v. 18 (1967), p. 403. 4- 4. 4- Being-toward- Community VOLUME 28, 1969 723 ÷ + Edward G. Bozzo, C.F~X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS call to brotherly faith, brotherly existence and care, there is a concommitant realization that religious life as the radical living of Christian life is predominantly brotherly existence. Insofar as religious life manifests this, its fundamental nature, it renders its primary serv-ice to both Church and world. This conception of the nature and function of religious life holds implications of highly practical import. The following paragraphs aim to explore some of them by attending primarily to the intramural living of religious life. As stated previously in touching on "formation," all religious must appreciate that each of them is involved in striving toward community. Recognizing this, one practical suggestion that has been proffered with increas-ing insistence is that religious cannot attain this by living in large groups in Mussolini-modern buildings.14 With-out disputing this recommendation, I submit that the import of religious life as fraternal existence in Christ lies deeper than the intimacy to be attained by living in smaller groups in cosier houses. Keeping the communal nature of reigious life to the fore means realizing that no religious can achieve "his perfection," his union with Christ, by an idealistic leap up to God which would ignore his concrete relations to his fellow religious. Each of us approaches God only by living for his particular brethren at hand, centering his interest in them and not in himself. To live this is to live in Christ; more specifi-cally, it is to live Christ's kenosis. Capsulizing St. Paul's view of Christian life again, one may see it as a progres-sive yielding to the Holy Spirit who transforms us into the image of the Father's only Son. And this Son is one who lives His whole existence towards the Father through a self-forgetful concern for all men. In sum, the Christ in whom we live, move, and are, the Christ into whom we are transformed through the Holy Spirit's action in us, is a self-emptying Christ, not a self-regarding Person.1'~ Selfishness in this perspective is not just per-sonal immaturity, it is--far more significantly--a resis-tance to grace, a refusal to let the Spirit take over in us so that the Christs we are meant to be cannot take form in our lives. The poverty, chastity, and obedience of the religious find their deepest meaning in this kenotic yielding to the 1~ In commenting on Vatican II's decree on religious, for example, Wulf (in Vorgrimler, v. 2, p. 330) writes: 'The responsible and effec-tive participation in the common good and in the common task in the spirit of brotherhood can no longer be realized in large communities, for by his psychical constitution, modern man feels lost and threatened in the mass, so that the ideals just mentioned can only be realized in communities of manageable size." 1~ See Piet Schoonenberg, "He Emptied Himself, Philippians 2, 7," in Who Is Jesus oI Nazareth? (New York: Paulist, 1965), pp. 47-66. Spirit, manifested inour heterocentricity toward others. These two cannot be separated, for a relationship to Christ, or to God in Christ, which is not a relationship to one's brothers, is no Christianity at all. The more earnestly a religious strives to live the Christian life, that is, to live as man sanctified by God, the more he becomes aware of his own poverty his impotence, weakness, and guilt and the more he realizes the totality of the de-pendence in which he lives from God and unto God-- the essence of what he professes in the vow of poverty. The more a religious strives to live as the force of God's agape in him would have him live, that is, the more uni-versal his love toward others becomes both in its scope and quality the more his chastity comes to expression. For then he loves as God loves, caring for others hon-estly, 16 with no eye to using them for his advantage but with a creative love that aims to set others free of the myriad forms of slavery which keep them from the liberty to which they are called. This honesty in love-- loving others as the Father loves, with no eye to private gain is the essence of religious chastity. The more the religious yields to God's beckonings to him, the more he follows the particularities of God's petitioning of him through others---even to the point of yielding his life for them, the more the relig!ous lives obedience to the Father. The depth of asceticism that is required to live this style of Christian existence, the depth of personal prayer required to maintain and nourish this kenotic orienta-tion needs no commentary. It involves many dyings be-fore death, surrendering the comfortable illusion that each of us is a special case, that life and other people should make exceptions in our regard. It means living Christ's life of service and in so doing becoming a vehicle through which the glory of the risen Christ is manifested. As Ratzinger writes: "A true parousia of Christ takes place wherever a man recognizes and affirms the claim on his love that goes out from a fellow man in need." lz Much more could and should be ex- 1BChastity is emotional sincerity. See John Macmurray, "The Virtue of Chastity," in Reason and Emotion (London: Faber and Faber, 1962), pp. l17ff. x7 Joseph Ratzinger, The Open Circle: The Meaning o] Christian Brotherhood (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1966), p. 119. The glory of the Father is the brotherhood of all men in his Son Jesus Christ. Our life as a community and as individuals, serving one another and others, must make the name of the Father known, manifest His glory by seeking the brotherhood of all men in Christ Jesus. But the source of this, it cannot be sufficiently emphasized, is God's love for us---this is what makes us persons fundamentally. What we have to give is God's love (see the Epistle to the Philippians). At this profound level the operative law is: All receptivity is produc-tivity, as SOren Kierkegaard notes in SOren Kierkegaard's Journals + + + Being.toward- Commu~nity VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ 4. ÷ Edward G. Bo~o, C.F~X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS plored regarding the linkage between religious life and kenotic Christology as this constitutes a promising vein for elaborating a theology of the religious life. However, the few hints offered will have to suffice for the moment, so as to attend to other implications of conceiving reli-gious life as a process of being toward community. One of these is that religious life as brotherly existence does not mean that the uniqueness of each religious is abolished. Quite the contrary. As Teilhard de Chardin was fond of phrasing it, true union differentiates,is That is, when we put into act by living communion with others the mutuality which makes us persons, each of us comes to himself. Each attains, at least in some measure, his freedom. The fundamental reason for this is that in friendship, fellowship, fear is eliminated or overcome by love. None of the parties in the fellowship has to pretend, act a part, be on his guard. For this to become a fact in a religious community all must share the intention to live as brothers. All must overcome fear of each other with trust. For fear paralyzes and separates us. Since fear is always fear for oneself in the face of others, it closes us in on ourselves, drives us away from exercising our constitutively mutual relationship to them. Fearful of others, I might seek for God, for free-dom, or more simply, for some sense of contentment not in my relations to others but solely in the life of the mind and imagination--solely in a private spirituality. Others might deal with their fear of their fellow by dominating them, using them as means to their purpose-- even if that purpose be "spiritual" it demeans the persons so manipulated. For fellowship, community, to become an actuality each must be positively motivated toward all his brothers. Consequently it cannot happen if a religious seeks friend-ship with only one or two other members alone, and when each of the parties in this relationship or clique is negatively motived toward all the other members. The trust of each member of the community, his faith in them, must extend toward all of them. Only so can true brotherhood become fact. To the extent that it does, each member can, for example, express his ideas without fear that what he says will be used against him. By the very nature of brotherhood, variety issues naturally-- from the assurance of feeling at home in one's reli-gious family. One does not have to strive after artifical techniques to assert his individuality. He is accepted and and Papers, v. 1, ed. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Indiana University, 1967), p. 395. ~See Robert L. Faricy, Teilhard de Chardin's Theology o[ the Christian in the World (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1967), pp. does not need to contrive test cases to discover if he is or not. More significantly, in the context of realized brother-hood ideas do not divide us. I know that even if you do not agree with my position on this or that issue that you will not cut me off--excommunicate me from your con-cern. And you have the same assurance from me. When each member of the community feels secure in this confidence our differences, whether in the realm of ideas or otherwise, are a potential source of enrichment for all of us. We are free to work out fruitful constructive forms of compromise to further corporate action. Every dif-ference between us does not become a wall of separation dividing brother from brother, camp from camp. Such division is our damnation. The future is in our hands only so long as we live as brothers. We cannot achieve any good as a congregation, or as a small community within it, if we do not share the same intention in our apostolic action. Just as we are mutually interdependent as persons, we are inter-dependent as agents. If as agents our intentions do not harmonize, the action of each of .us is frustrated. The future then becomes something that happens to us, some-thing which we await, rather than a reality which we as agents are empowered to determine and can determine when our intentions harmonize and agree with God's intention--that we as religious be one and through our work (directly or indirectly) work for the realization of brotherhood among all men. In this light religious life can be appreciated as the concrete expression of what the Church is. It is the fra-ternity of God's people, His family which lives a broth-erly existence under Him and by so living is the instru-ment for expressing and extending brotherhood among all mankind. The creative energy for realizing this broth-erhood is the agape of the Father Himself operating through the common humanity which each of us shares with every other person.10 The task of the Church today is what it always has been--to cooperate with God under the guidance of the Spirit of Christ in establishing the kingdom of God. The means for establishing this king-dom, for accomplishing this task is the means that Jesus taught His first Disdples. The Church must be a real community on earth which exhibits to the world, in its life and in the relations of its members, the image of the kingdom of heaven, and which acts, in relation to the world outside, in the brotherly spirit of that king-dom. Never has the Church needed religious life to mani-fest this, its nature at its truest, as now. And never have 4. 4. Being-toward- Community 1, See Yves Congar, .4 Gospel Priesthood (New York: Herder aVnOdLUME 28, 1969 Herder, 1967), p. 5, on the Father's love as the source of all mission. 727 men so expressly proclaimed in myriad ways, their thirst for brotherhood. If religious life would only come to itself it could spearhead the realization of brotherhood--- the consummation of personal existence now so devoutly wished. It depends on so little and so big a condition as this: that each of us in his religious family treat each of the others as a friend. 4. 4- 4- Edward G. Bo~,o, REVIEW FOR RELIGIous 728 HRBAN NAAL, S.M. The Community of Today Walls are built either to keep people in or to keep people out. Whether these walls are built of stone, brick, or concrete or whether they are built of weaker material, the object is to keep someone or something in or to keep someone or something out, physically. There are also pyschological walls built for the same purpose, though not always built intentionally. In the Middle Ages cities had walls. Most of these walls are in ruins today or have disappeared as the cities expanded beyond them. In fact, expansion could take place only when the people went beyond the walls. It seemed that as man neared modern times the walls crumbled, "freeing" the community to expand in all directions. It would seem that one could almost say that the walls had to come down if expansion were to take place, for the walls that kept out also kept in. Any com-munity that held rigidly to its walls would of necessity suffocate. Growth took place as the walls came down aIIowing for greater activity, travel, business, communica-tion, work, education. Modern communities no longer have walls. They are neither needed nor desired. Yet, there seems to exist today in the modem world communities whose walls have remained intact since the Middle Ages and who seem rigidly to resist any attempt to break down those walls, whether physical or psycho-logical. The citizens seem determined to hold onto those walls, nor can they visualize that real progress can take place only if they break down these separating walls, walls that are keeping them in and keeping others out. The communities referred to are religious communities and the walls that they will not demolish are not those made of stone, brick, concrete, or even weaker materials but those psychological walls existing in their interpre-tation of what a community is and must remain. Com-munity for these religious is a "living" together and by 4- 4- 4- Brother Urban Naal, S.M., teaches at Vianney High School; 1311 South Kirkwood Road; St. Louis, Mo. 63122, VOLUME 28, 1969 ~9 Urban Naal, S.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS this they mean a living together in one place at one time by all the members assigned to a particular community or house. What is actually stressed is the physical sharing of one house though they do not seem to realize this. As the modern community cannot be limited by walls that suffocate, so the modern religious community must be ~eed from the walls that bind it. This can only be done through a reinterpretation of what a religious commu-nity is and a realization that a modern community must be a psychological sharing and not a physical sharing alone. To constantly insist upon a physical sharing, a doing everything together, to keep repairing walls that need to crumble, succeeds eventually in suffocating the very members who have retained the walls. Growth can-not take place until the walls are removed. The modern religious community must be bound to-gether by a spirit and not by the physical presence of the walls of a house. The witness o[ such a community must consist in a harmonious interest in the diverse works of each of the members and not in the force shown by a group of people living together under one roof. The community witness must be a living together of diverse ideas and cultures and values. The individual religious, bound by public vows of religion, must be free to leave the walls of the commu-nity for greater activity, travel, business, communica-tion, work, education, and the needs of society at large. He is living in the modern world, not the Middle Ages. He must be trained to think as an individual and not as a group. This is not to say that there are no dangers in taking protective walls down, especially for those who first cautiously venture forth. (Nor is it to try to claim that walls of themselves preclude all danger.) There is danger for the young who need walls to inclose them until they are old enough to venture forth on their own. There is danger for the member of the community who has never been given the chance to go it alone and Who psycho-logically needs walls to shield him. There is danger for the immature in the community who do not have the strength nor security to leave the womb. There. is danger, too, once the walls are down that undersirable persons or ideas might creep in. Yet, to grow in the modern world the member of the community must learn to live with these dangers, to grow because of them. No one can avoid all danger. In fact, it is through these dangers that growth takes place. In learning to deal with danger man matures. It is a fallacy to feel that walls make it possible to create an artificial situation in which all members by a certain age or a certain stage of life become model religious, fitting perfectly into some kind of foreseen mold. Nor can this denial of the individuality of man be called Christian, no matter how much it appears to be the basis of the religious community. The members of a religious community must be trained to use the God-given talents they possess and to grow as individuals according as God made them. Guidelines are not outlawed, but charity must consist in accepting each member for .what he is and for how God made him rather than to how closeIy he matches someone's personal rule of perfection. If the religious community prepared thinking individ-uals using the brains God gave them to use, there would be no need of wails for physically mature persons, no reason to fear the wails coming down. The community of living together under one roof tends to stifle initia-tive and creativity. It forces the members to aim at a common--and often lowest--denominator, regulating the lives of the members according to some precon-ceived general norm resulting in the members actually dedicating themselves to mediocrity rather than to the highest potential of which they are capable. It does not permit each person to grow at his own rate nor to be-lieve according to what he is able to "see" at present. The religious community in the twentieth century must be an outgrowth of the Middle Ages. It must progress with the times and be as efficient as the dines permit. The religious, to be true religious and apostles, must go out beyond the wails to where they are needed, to where the action is. Artificial action and needs cannot be set up within the walls or close-by. The modern religious must carry his community in spirit wherever he goes, wherever he is needed. He must be trained and trusted to carry this community with him, rather than be crippled by forever being tied to a particular house often far from the needs of the world. He must often go alone into the field (be it education, communication, business) to bear witness and to work, even though it be far from an established community of his order. He might even become the center of a new-type of "community" of those working around him. This does not mean that there is no need for the com-munity in the traditional sense of the word. It definitely has a place. It is the walled city or quiet womb in which the religious needs to reside while being formed. It is the "dock" to which the weary working religious needs to return periodically for nourishment and light and the moral support of his fellow religious which is so important to one working alone in the field of battle. The individual religious could not continue to work + + ommunity VOLUME 28, 1969 without these periodic retreats to that haven from whence he came. There is need, too, of the traditional community for those who do not feel that they can or want to leave it. Yet, the modern religious, a religious in the true sense, must be free to go beyond the walls that presently hem him in and thwart his apostolate. To force community members to live closely together under the same roof under the guise that the four walls constitute a commu-nity is to miss the point completely and to miss the modern apostolate completely. The real community is a spiritual thing, a love of and an acceptance of one's fellow religious wherever they are. It is not confined to those living within the four walls of a particular com-munity. Nor is it created by the mere presence of four walls. The normal family with grown members no longer reside within the same four walls; and yet no matter how far they are scattered they exhibit an in-tense loyalty to the members of the family from which they came because of their love and acceptance of one another, not because they happened to at one time reside within the same four walls (which have now crumbled). The modern religious community if it is to succeed must go beyond the walls that they have erected less they awake one day to find that life has pass them by. Let not today's religious communities be the ghost towns of tomorrow. ÷ ÷ ÷ Urban Nail, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS GEORGE C. McCAULEY, S.J. The Toll and Why We Pay h: A Theological Image of Religious Life Religious are always surprised and annoyed by the basic ignorance, even in the Catholic community, of the distinction between priesthood and the religious life, between orders and vows. In the new Church people ask brothers, nuns, and religious priests: "Are they going to allow you to marry?" It becomes easier to live with such ignorance when finally we discover that it is based on a lack of any real interest. But today the question: "What is a religious?" is being posed earnestly and painfully not by others but by many religious themselves. Prophets of doom count the days for religious orders and congregations, and they offer statistics in support of their baleful prognoses. With many religious leaving and fewer entering the re-ligious life, religious are anxious for a self-understanding that will help them navigate through some of the con-temporary uncertainty. A perfectly satisfying self-under-standing is rarely forthcoming in life. We are more in need of a creative and humanly intelligible hypothesis against which we can test our Christian and religious experience. It is the task of theology to set forth such an hypothesis. To that end we will attempt first to describe more thoroughly the religious' contemporary plight, and then to isolate the human (therefore intelligible) form of the religious' commitment, its various motivations, and the content of that commitment or the directions in which the religious life has always and will always take those who embrace that life. The Toll The religious gradually becomes an out~ider to the cultural milieu in which he lives. True, it is hard to iso-÷ ÷ i÷ George C. Mc- Cauley, S.J., is a member of the the-ology faculty of St. Peter's College in Jersey City, New Jersey 07306. VOEUME 28, 1969 4- 4- 4- George C. McCauley, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 734 late a cultural milieu which affects all people in exactly the same way. It is also possible that many religious are more in touch than many non-religious with what-ever cultural milieu is available. We will develop the thesis, however, that the more in touch the religious is, the greater the toll will be that he will pay. If we ac-cept as a working definition of cultural milieu as the main network of achievements, activities, and values that emerge from the physical and spiritual resources of men, then it is clear that the religious gradually becomes unstuck from this network. The reason for this is that most men are usually attached to this network at various points, while the religious fits the cultural pattern only sketchily. The cultural pattern involves at least the triad of job, marriage, and family. The economic, political, and recreational systems of men are geared to and de-pendent .upon man's wishes in those three areas. The communications media feed, and feed upon, the needs that are contained in those three aspects of life. Assiduous-ness, success, planning, ingenuity, failure, social useful-ness, ambition, acceptability, and normality are in a thousand subtle ways measured against the standard inherent in the triad of job, marriage, and family. The religious recedes from this standard, and this gradual recession takes its toll on his'cultural sensibilities. His routine activities have little to do with the cultural standard: his clothing is both singular and culturally meaningless. His language is dissonant: fun, life, enter-tainment, pleasure, anxiety, responsibility, relaxation-- these words have a different ring for him than for other men. His normal working hours are accompanied by different expectations, and hence he misses the rhythms which usually mark the beginning and end of a man's work. He is disassociated from the immense cultural ritual of finding and keeping a mate. His energies are not spent on the intricate process of nesting, of providing and securing goods for a family. He does not shop, keep financial records, save, angle, sweat, or celebrate with the same sentiments or relish that other men have. The point of all this is not simply that the religious does not do what most men do. It is rather to suggest that he gradually foregoes sensibility in these areas. Sen-sibility is itself a difficult term to define. The religious need not become insensitive to the cultural life around him. He knows that men around him are engaged might-ily in their own routines, and he senses these routines in others. But he notes their absence in himself. He can-not perceive them within his whole emotional, self-aware-ness apparatus. The toll that he pays is this sense of void in himself in comparison with the cultural mass which surrounds him and which, by its sheer weight, seems to pressure him to be like it. This realization should not lead the religious to exag-gerate his predicament. Every vocation has its toll and everyone could recount the frustrations and limitations implied in his life choices. What is important is that the religious understand the scope and dimensions of the toll that he will in all likelihood pay. He must situate himself as honestly as possible in terms of his actual cultural coordinates which in his case are not normal ones. Then he must ask himself if he understands why he takes, in faith, such a peculiar stance vis-a-vis his culture. Not that he should so call his faith into question that it ceases to exist. This unimaginative and simplistic solution removes the problem by denying its existence and we can only get so far in life with this gambit. On the other hand religious communities must have a con-sensus of self-understanding against which they can judge themselves and the times. The stresses and strains of living as marginal men in a vast cultural network tend to prove too much for everyone's individual nerves. Only a community's conviction, its faith elaborated in intelli-gible and affirmative terms, can sustain the religious life today. The religious is not helped by being told his life is more than human. He suspects mightily that what people mean by this comes down in the long run to being less than human. Hence he asks for an understanding of his vows in terms of their true humanity. Reasons and an Image The religious is pressed to say why he does what he does. Up to a point he can answer that Christ's example is what motivates him. But the limitations of this ex-planation of the religious life are apparent. For one thing, we are not Christ. For another, the Scriptural references to "imitating Christ" (1 Th 1:6; 1 Cot 4:16) apply to all Christians, not to one class or group of Christians. The same is true of the Scriptural ref-erences to "following Christ" (Mt 8:22; 19:21; 12:26; 19:28; Mk 9:38; Jn 8:12). Again, the picture of the way Christ actually lived is difficult to disengage from the sev-eral layers of testimony about Him which we have in the Gospels. In other words, we do not have any ready-made picture of what His poverty, chastity, and obedience looked like, and this makes our claim as religious to be imitating Him more difficult. The Son of Man did not have a place to lay His head, but He had a devoted fol-lowing of women and it is hard to see how anyone in those circumstances would have to do without material necessities. He was obedient to the Father, but was such .I-÷ 4- TI~ Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ George C. McCauley, REV]EW FOR REL[GIOUS obedience more difficult than obedience shown to men and women who do not have all the Father's advantages? He was celibate in a culture that did not set as much store as we do today on mutual love between man and woman, on personal sexual attraction and its flowering in family life. We will return to the question of the reli-gious' relationship with Christ in a moment. The point here is that expressions like "imitating" Christ which recur in our traditional formulations of the religious life are not by that simple fact illuminating when we come to examine what the religious life is. We are there-fore forced to take a closer look at the religious life as a form of human activity. One advantage to this ap-proach is that the religious might get a clearer, more identifiable picture of what he is doing, even apart from the question of why he is doing it. What image, then, will help us understand what the religious is doing? We will suggest as a basic charac-terization of that life its daring nature. By this is meant more than that the religious is exposed to the toll men-tioned earlier and hence that he risks not surviving his being distanced from the cultural milieu. Not surviving is a risk, to be sure, but a risk is not a dare. The latter has a more positive connotation and requires a more ex-tended analysis. When we speak of a daring feat or of a daring way of life, the emphasis is less on the possibility of failure as it is on the uniqueness of accomplishment involved. The accomplishment takes place in the face of obstacles and danger, but these aspects are subordinate to the inner content of the accomplishment itself. Examples of daring are varied. There are daring feats of exploration, .of physical prowess or menta! endurance, of both of these latter in varying combinations. We even speak of daring crimes. Daring stems from a certain persistent determina-tion to do something which (though not necessarily be-cause) other people do not do. This determination settles on what is uncustomary.The darer fixes on strange goals and pursues them with a single-minded intensity. He is oblivious to commentary, favorable or not, on his ac-tions. It is not a question of toughness nor of unconven-tionality. The darer may be outwardly the mildest and most unprepossessing person in the world. But he is capable of totally concentrating on the steps which sepa-rately and together form his achievement. We cannot deny that his dare resembles an obsession. He is also sub-ject to the usual urge to limit and falsify the demands of his dare, to exaggerate his readiness, qualifications, and technique for daring properly. But these he corrects in order to be true to the dare. The point here is not to ask why he dares, but to ob- serve the act of daring in itself, its rigid demands, its engrossing personal fascination for the darer, and its indifference to other ways of acting. This indifference is important. The mountain climber, for example, can be questioned endlessly as to why he does what he does. He is in effect being asked to justify his daring which often seems to be either sheer folly or disdain for life in the valley. Mallory's well-known explanation of why he assaulted Everest ("Because it is there") is, however, less a comment on Everest, which is there for everyone, than a revelation about Mallory who was different precisely in his d~ring. In his case, as with all daring, we are forced to admit that, to some extent, daring is its own justifica-tion. No amount of scepticism, no amount of bewilder-ment on the part of those who do not dare, can detract from the darer's achievement. The test of the human validity of a dare is the admiration that it inspires in the observer. And in terms of a traditional humanism, the burden of the proof is on the non-darer to show that daring is unjustified. In all this, we cannot facilely iden-tify daring with "doing your own thing," since there is an aspect of human achievement and of human approval to the dare that is often lacking where some attempt to glorify "their own thing." If we apply the image of an act of daring to the con-duct of religious, we get some idea of what the religious life as a form of observable human conduct is. It is a form of daring whose justification, in part at least, is to be sought no further than in its own intrinsic impera-tive as daring. We must practice the same discipline in examining the religious life as we did with the act of daring itself, by postponing questions of motive and of content in order to see the human form of the religious life as such. Hence we may not assume as a general prin-ciple that Christ "calls" to the religious life individuals who are neutrally qualified, that is, ready to lead that life or some other life, with the only difference in the subsequent choice beifig a difference in the degree of love that they can summon up for Christ. Such a view makes the choice of the religious life almost com-pletely a matter of an adult decision to move from a neutral plane to one of greater (more altruistic) love. But is it not more likely that Christ calls individ-uals to this life because they are daring types, that is, because they have, before any adult decision related to Christ, something in themselves which is capable of and which demands living a dare? The rich young man in the Gospels was sad that Christ invited him to a life of poverty and of dedication. This narrative has sometimes led to the impression that a call from Christ brings a person who supposedly stands in neutral balance before various ~÷ ÷ ÷ Tlw Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 George C. McCauley, S.J. REVIEW FOR REL~6~OUS possible life options to choose a "lfigher" state into which he then fits his talents. But such a view of Christ's calling may not credit Christ with sufficient politeness. The call of Christ is perhaps better adapted to our in-dividual capacities than we expect. The rich young man's sadness is not only to be attributed to the fact that, in following Christ, he will have to do without his riches, but also to the fact that he is the kind of person who should dare to do without riches if he is to respond to the imperatives of his own deepest person which Christ sees more clearly than he does. How then do such terms as "greater love," "closer following of Christ," or "higher state" apply to the re-ligious life? If, as we will suggest later on, the religious' dare also turns out to be of immense service to the Church and to the world, how is the religious to relate his own imperative as a darer, this personal and quite human as-pect of his calling, to the service of others? What we are really asking is how Christ looks upon the individual religious: as someone who should consciously concentrate on the service and love of Christ and of others beyond the measure of what is normally asked? or as someone who should be candidly aware of his own personal imperative to dare, to enjoy the situation of being a darer regardless of how much service or love is connected with it? Is Christ the kind of person who would "use" the darer for the service of the Church? Or is Christ calling the darer to a conscious love and service of Himself and of the Church only in order to reveal to the darer his own true self? If Christ's concern in calling the individual religious is primarily to a!low that religious a large meas-ure of fidelity to what is most personal and quite human in himself--to his capacity to dare--what sense is there in describing the religious life as a call to greater or higher love? The religious life is indeed centered on Christ; and, through this centering, it has a more uni-versal scope and influence. And all this, too, is thoroughly human, even if our cultural norms do not recognize this humanity. But we should not call such a commitment "greater" or "higher" if what we really mean by those words is a commitment that is more universal in scope. Perhaps the better way to describe the religious' relation-ship to Christ is to speak of Christ initially as someone who calls us to love Him and others, then as someone who shows us the way in which we love ourselves, and finally as someone with whom we are ourselves in the daring service of others. There are several corollary observations to be made on our use of the image of daring to help us understand the religious' commitment. First of all, it seems that this image is less suited to women religious then to men, simply because men more than women have been asso-ciated with those activities from which we sought an un-derstanding of the structure of daring. It is risky to sug-gest what daring consists of for the gentler sex; yet, if a parallel image is to be sought, it is to be sought in a con-text of exceptional actions which of themselves call forth human esteem and which also call for unusual deter-mination, singleness of purpose, no apologies, and a deep sense of a specific pull in one direction. Childbearing and putting up with male pretensions are daring enough, but are they not also too universal to illustrate a womanly dare? The will to make sense out of life, and to live its rhythms in one's actual circumstances, char-acterizes every basic vocational choice. It is only where the choice seems to depart from the usual without be-coming bizarre that we are dealing with a dare. Hence women religious must seek the image of their daring in some other more appropriate phenomenon. The only one that suggests itself at the moment is the image of the woman of abandon who sets no store on propriety, scorns convention, and foregoes a good name in the pur-suit of love. Despite its obvious limitations this image conveys many of the qualities that we associate with dar-ing. The second observation concerns "leaving" the life of vows. There are overanxious minds who rule out a priori the continued desirability of a permanent style of religi-ous life. Yet, it is somewhat tyrannical to say that no one should live his religious dare to the end of his days. It overlooks the fact that some people do live it, and live it well for a lifetime, shifting emphases and priorities as the circumstances of the Church require, deepening the main lines of their dare, personally enriched and a source of joy for all around them. But in assessing the permanency of the religious life we have to keep in mind that, where we are dealing with something resembling a dare, we are going to have to keep a respectful distance from another person's commitment. The reason is that we simply do not know who is called to dare and for how long. The Church has always recognized this and has granted dispensations from "permanent," "final" vows, however "solemn" they might have been. We have pre-served, if grudgingly at times, the insight that Christ is not as fanatical as we sometimes wish to be in insuring lifetime commitments. No less a master of spiritual in-sight than Ignatius of Loyola indicated in his spiritual Exercises that there is always room for the subsequent discovery that one's life choices have not added up to a "divine vocation." His sixteenth century advice to a per-son making such a discovery was that they make the best of the situation. In parochial Europe at that time making ÷ 4- ÷ Th~ Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 ~9 ÷ ÷ ÷ George C. McCauley, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the best of the situation often excluded, [or purely social reasons, departing from one's chosen state. There is less pressure on the religious today to continue in a vocation that no longer appears to be divine, that is, that no longer amounts to a growth in charity (beginning at home) for the individual or for those he encounters. We all must wait on the individual to tell us as the fruit of his most interior discovery whether or not in fact he wishes to continue his dare. If he does not, that is, by the unique nature of his daring situation, his business and not ours. It might even not be a bad idea for the Con-gregation of Religious, when issuing papers that release from the vows, to add a word of thanks for the service, short or long, that an individual has given to the Church in the course of daring commitment to Christ. A third observation brings us back to the question of the religious' motivation in choosing to make the dare that his life is. We suggested that his motivation is pri-marily a response to Christ in which the religious may not be aware that Christ's invitation suits his own make-up as a darer. This prior suitability in no way offends against the gratuity of Christ's invitation. It simply gives Christ more credit for exercising his gratuity politely, according to the actual condition of the person whom he is inviting. Yet, the choice of the religious life is open to other motivations precisely because of its dare struc-tare. These motivations are not properly religious and can therefore cause great harm to the individual who acts on them. For example, there is the motivation pres-ent, ironically, in those whose faith is most precarious. Doubt sits in the center of most authentic faith; but where this doubt is severe, and where the person in ques-tion is highly sincere or scrupulous, it sometimes hap-pens that the person wishes to put his doubt "to the su-preme test." That is, he wishes to test it out in the most difficult circumstances in order to be able to say that he gave faith a chance to prove itself to him. A parallel may be drawn here between the case of some religious and that of doctors and psychiatrists among whom a high incidence of depression is found. This depression is con-sidered to be as much a cause of their professional interest and vocation as it is a result of exposure to the hard realities of their profession. Similarly the religious may gravitate to his particular way of life in order to test faith at the extreme. Unfortunately, he may then push himself (or others) beyond the measure of daring to an unbounded or fanatical kind of performance testing, without much joy or real personal exchange, and without the care that distinguishes the darer from the presumptu-ous or dangerous achiever. What the Religious Dares to Do If in its human form the religious life is an act of daring, what is the content of that dare? What does the religious dare to do? As a general statement we might say that the religious dares the normal structures of Christian living. The Vatican Council (II) pointed out that the religious' special act of consecration "is deeply rooted in [their] baptismal consecration and provides an ampler manifestation of it" (Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life, n. 5). This baptismal con-secration takes in the whole Christian commitment to form community with God and with one's fellow men by engaging in a life of authentic cult and. sacramental humanism. It is obviously a very broad kind of commit-ment. How then is it possible to dare it? What the Church has done is to divide up the baptismal commitment somewhat artificially into the less broad categories of poverty, chastity, and obedience; religious center their dare in these areas. What is important to realize is that the normal Christian has a commitment in these areas by reason of his baptismal vows. He is directed to take a stand, in the name of Christ, on material goods and pos-sessions, on sexual and married love, on his relationship of dependence on God and on others. What the religious does is to take these preexisting structures of the Christian commitment and to treat them in a daring fashion. We will analyze this effort in a moment. Part of the contem-porary crisis in the religious life, however, is precisely the fact that the normal structures of the baptismal com-mitment are in flux. Hence the religious is uncertain in his dare. This is an extremely painful state, and all the more dangerous because the religious is, as a darer, a most earnest person, all appearances to the contrary. It is not surprising that many religious are leaving to under-take specific (if temporary) tasks of more than ordinary dedication. To attribute this phenomenon solely to a lack of generosity or to a general softness is perhaps one of the most simple-minded analyses ever made in the Church. On the other hand, the uncertainty attendant upon the religious life today is largely inevitable. The review to which the Church itself and the baptismal commitment are being subjected today creates a state of imbalance for the general believer and for the religious. We can illustrate this in the three areas of the religious' dare. In one sense, little has changed in the baptized per-son's commitment to poverty. There is still the need to resist our tendency to clutter, to surround, to weigh our-selves down with all sorts of paraphernalia which pains-÷ ÷ ÷ The Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 74! ÷ ÷ ÷ George C. McCauley, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS takingly insure or trumpet our personal importance. There is, too, the command and invitation of Christ to share with the needy. In daring these Christian forms of poverty, the religious can hardly pretend that it makes no difference what he owns or what he shares with others. He will therefore continue to aim at divesting himself of those layers of material possession which enable nor-mal people to define themselves in terms of what they have instead of who they are. The religious will bare his person to the world in testimony to the fact that it is at the level of personhood that we most truly exist and Christ most truly works. He will continue to share his talents and his energies with his fellow man. He will also give witness to the fact that sharing at the level of personhood is a far more demanding and far richer kind of sharing than all others, and that this kind of sharing is most illustrative of the kind of redeemer Christ was. But there is a special stamp to the poverty of the baptised Christian today, a stamp which in turn calls for revisions in the way the religious dares that poverty. The Church's present attitude (officially communicated in various encyclicals) toward material goods and toward money is characterized by an insistence on a responsi-ble, intelligent, and imaginative use of these things in society at large. The religious' dare at this level need not imply that he personally receive and keep a salary which he then uses wisely and imaginatively. The prob-lem with money today is not in the individual use of money but in the social uses of money, in the con-structive political uses of money at the institutional, local, national, and international levels. Religious have in fact felt the need to be daring in these areas. They have had to question their investment of money and manpower in traditional institutions and aposto-lates, to consolidate their houses of formation, to avoid reduplication that has no other justification than a de-sire to be true to the Good Old Founder, to fund mis-sionary work conjointly with other groups and even other faiths, to work through civil institutions where these have the moneys and structures to do a job better. But there is always room to improve the quality of our dare. The fortunes of Christian authority are also fluctuating today. Everyone is trying to make sense out of the apparent "disobedience" shown papal and episcopal authority. Opinions range from the simplistic view that we are dealing with a wave of sinful disloyalty to the view that we are developing a Christian anarchy which reduces the relation of the faithful to the hierarchy to a matter of contending power groups. The more solidi analyses of theologians of authority have taken two di- rections: first, to attack facile identifications of Christian authority with those profane forms of authority that we meet in our normal experience (parental, civil, educa-tional, personal magnetism, power, and so forth). What changes, this attack has brought about in our usual attitudes toward jurisdiction, law, rules, derision mak-ing, official teaching, penalties, and so forth, is not yet clear. Secondly, theologians have put Christian authority in the context of dialogue, not as though dialogue were simply the modern style of Christian authority and its pragmatic concomitant, but because of the God-given and inalienable dignity of the individual Christian be-fore all men which demands that he direct his life in responsible freedom, that he assess events with an open-ness to people who think differently from himself. There are innumerable problems in the theology of authority which remain unsolved. Our point here is again to point out that the religious dares what the normal Christian is exposed to in the matter of authority. The hero in the religious community today is not the one who can keep the rules best. Many of those trained to wait for superiors to decide for them what they will do by way of work, apostolate, or formation suffer most. And it is not clear that their suffering offers us the opti-mum example of the folly of the cross. Ironically, the greatest suffering (and possibly the more authentic em-bodiment of Christian folly) comes in the religious' ex-perience of dialogue. Today's religious communities probably have more experience in dialogue than any other large groups of people in the world. In the hours and hours spent on examining apostolate, structures, attitudes, renovation, and local problems, religious have discovered the real dimensions of their divi-sions. This discovery has often been accompanied with confusion and even with bitterness. Some communities have, to all appearances, been destroyed by this dialogue. Others are finding their life less romantic, more stark and seemingly loveless. Still others are discovering that it is precisely in a keen sense of intramural differences that the true nature of Christian faith is emerging. The religious is discovering that he must and can break bread --at least the bread of Christ--with those with whom he differs. He must and can work together despite serious ideological rifts. He must and can love what is really not himself. The image of his religious community as a homo-geneous unit has shattered irreparably. If he does not find a new and absolute source of unity in the principle of dialogue itself, he is doomed. The astounding aspect of this whole development is that the secular world needs precisely this kind of unity-in- diversity at the present time. Nothing could be more ÷ ÷ ÷ The Toll VOLUME 28, 1969 4. 4. George . McCauley, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS pragmatic and more relevant than for the Roman Catholic Church, through its experience of dialogue, to become the spokesman for dialogue in the modern world, to share with the world its hitter experience and yet the constructive healing that it has found in dialogue. We are learning as a community and not simply as in-dividuals to face the different levels of meaning that lie behind human language, to concentrate on that which unites us rather than on that which tears us apart, to rid ourselves of the mentality that says it is easy to dis-agree in lucid and unambiguous terms. Perhaps if we learn this lesson well the world will profit from our presence. The religious communities are now £eeling the pain of dialogue in the most intense fashion. Dialogue has hardly even begun on the parish level and, given our cultural and religious background, it will be only through an "authoritative" command of bishops over a long period that parish-level dialogue will be triggered and sustained. In the meantime religious communities will be asked to dare this dialogue structure of authority. If they are hard pressed in doing so, it is no great surprise. The question is: Is it not worthwhile? The third and most obvious area of the religious' dare is the matter of chastity. Chastity is required of all Christians by reason of their baptismal vows. Unfortu-nately, it is often understood in purely negative terms without much realization that a purely negative view is uhimately insulting to Christ. Yet, the purpose of Christian chastity is that every Christian learn from Christ what it is to be an authentic human lover. Such is the logic of the sacrament of matrimony, in which a couple accepts Christ into the heart of their human love, making His attitudes the standard for their own relationship. What this implies, too, is that, when Christ is introduced into the heart of human love, that love is forced to become open to other people beyond the lovers themselves. For the commitment to Christ as the standard and support of human love opens the couple out to Christ's community who help to interpret the standard and to support the couple in their pursuit of human love. Hence Christ makes even the private love between man and woman more open to others and more enriching for all. The religious extend this principle of openness in human love through Christ. By introducing Christ even more into the heart of his love, he opens himself out to more human contacts, to relationships of support and understanding with more people. Whatever the ac-tual scope of the religious' concern for and contact with people, his intention, and the content of his dare, is to give himself to as many as possible through Christ. Or, to put it more in the actual terms of his awareness, his instinct and his hope is that in not giving himself to one woman in Christ, Christ makes of him a man for all men and women. There are two observations to be made concerning the religious' chastity. First of all, a vow 0f chastity is not something which blots out in the religious an aware-ness of his own capacity for married love. In fact it seems that the more authentic hi~ dare in this area the more proximately ready he should be for married love. We might even say that, without ever mildly compromising his commitment, the religious should try to keep ready in order that his dare never become a sort of misguided m~prise for other ways of living and loving, and in order that his devotion to the Lord preserve its own proper relationship to other loves. Religious love Christ not with some globally undifferentiated or asexual love, but men love him as a man and women love him as women. And unless one has some notion of what the difference between the two is, one risks marring the appropriate overtones to the individual's relationship to Christ. The second remark to be made is that the religious also serves those for whom human love between a man and a woman is a physical, psychological, or economic impossibility. In an affluent sodety who cares for the un-gainly loves? Who sympathizes for the awkward, the ugly, the malproportioned? For people in whom love crouches like a deformed child? For those for whom their own sexuality is an embarrassment or a grotesque albatross? For whom communication with the other sex is at best a halting dumb-show or hollow bravura and at worst a mockery? Against the standard of successful married love, these people are judged severely in most societies. We do our best to hide them, or not to discuss them, because we surreptitiously set up as an absolute standard of human dignity success in married love. The presence of religious can do much to dissipate this false assessment of human dignity. Sooner or later, some0he is going to have to explain the religious who, while he insists on his own dignity, does not measure it by the imperious standard of successful married love. And others, seeing the religious, can take hope for their own dignity. Conclusion Our analysis has not left us without questions. This is inevitable since any theological image is no more than that, a way of understanding a faith experience which constantly runs ahead of our images of it. In admitting the difficulty of reconciling the image of daring with the service aspect of the vows (service to Christ and to men), we are simply expressing in other terms the perennial problem of reconciling love of self with love of others, ÷ ÷ Th~ ToI! the problem of being a self in the world. Other prob-lems lie beneath the surface of our consideration of the content of the religious' dare. A kind of parallel think-ing urges us to conclude that, just as the religious ends up not marrying, not having possessions, so too he should end up not choosing in the face of a superior's commands. This is indeed an aspect of his dare, but only in the sense that the religious foregoes choosing to limit dia-logue, just as he foregoes limiting his human love to one woman and just as he foregoes limiting his person to his possessions. The superior's commands should not ignore the positive purpose of the vows which are not supposed to be some kind of exercise in how-long-can-you-go-holding- your-breath. The religious superior has to realize that the vows open up the religious to the service of all. Moreover the superior has to realize that he is dealing with the daring of an individual person and that his function as superior is not to get individuals to conform to some imaginary and generalized "will of Christ." The superior's main role is to let Christ work in the life of the individual religious, without himself insisting a priori on the possible ways in which and only in which Christ can work. The religious superior can never interfere with the general lines of the structure of the religious life itself. If, as we suggested, these general lines require the re-ligious to dare the baptismal commitment to poverty, chastity, and obedience, it becomes all the more im-portant for religious superiors today to examine their own attitudes toward how the Church today is formu-lating the baptismal commitment. On this point, the general argument in the Church over what the implica-tions of Christian baptism are is taking a further toll on individual religious who feel that their dare is up in the air while the general argument rages. It is hardly sur-prising, then, that the optimists and pessimists line up in about the same way on the religious life as they do on the Church itself. It is curious, however, how optimism also resembles a dare. ÷ ÷ ÷ George C. McCaul~y, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS JOHN W. STAFFORD, C.S.V. Prayer Life in the Contemporary Community Introduction There are several approaches to a reflection on the prayer life of the contemporary religious community. One could enter the reflection, with the bias that there just does not seem to be much prayer going on these days in the contemporary community, either private, personal prayer or communal prayer. In that case the title of this paper might have been altered to read: "The Decline and Fall of Prayer in the World of Today." A second bias might be a more joyous one. Freed from the routine of the so-called religious exercises, the con-temporary religious leads a life of prayer that is unself-ish, authentic, meaningful, and full of compassion and concern for one's fellow man in God's world of today. The times and places of prayer are utterly unimpor-tant, but there is prayer going on. The forms of prayer are informal, perhaps free-form, or even utterly form-less. But there is substance to the prayer, and substance is certainly more important than form. Our title then might have been: "Come, All You Gals and Guys, Let's Strum a Prayer to the Lord." Or, if one wants to risk use of a language that is not exactly alive and jumping, the title might even be, with a certain appropriateness: "Laborare Est Orate." A third approach might be from the bias of the har-monizer, the synthesizer, the cool observer of the con-temporary scene, who perhaps thinks he is without bias. The reflection then would focus on what is good in the prayer life of religious in the past that should be pre-served, on what should be modified to conform to the needs of today (with a reference, of course, to Perfectae ÷ ÷ ÷ John W. $taf-ford° C.S.V., lives at 1100 Forest Avenue; Evanston, Illinois 80£02. VOLUME 28, 1969 747 + + ]ohn W. Sta~ord, C~.V. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS caritatis, n. 3), and finally on how entirely new concepts of prayer can enrich our religious life. The title of all this could well be: "The Adaptive Renewal of Prayer Life in the Contemporary Community"; perhaps more briefly: "Old Wine in New Bottles", or maybe: "Old Wine in Your Own New Plastic Bag." There could even be a fourth approach (and I am sure more), that of the planner and the prophet. The reflection would be directed towards some kind of schema of prayer life to fit the tempo and needs of to-day. There could be principles and propositions, a sort of blueprint or script or scenario for the ideal type of prayer life for a contemporary religious. This could be entitled simply: "How the Religious of Today Should Pray." The approach here, no doubt with conscious and un-conscious overtones of all four of the above, will be what may be rather grandiosely called phenomenological. The reflection will be that very difficult one of attempting to look at the prayer life of religious factually and with-out bias, non-judgmentally. Perhaps in any meaningful sense this is practically impossible, not only because of the lack of truly factual information, but. also due to man's apparently irresistible drive to look at every-thing through the basic biases of his being. The Facts of Contemporary Prayer The hard facts of the contemporary prayer life of religious are not easy to come by. There are all sorts of things going on ad experimentum; but there seem precious few real experiments with verified data that can be communicated and dealt with in objective study. There are, of course, some generalizations frequently made, but of dubious value. Some examples: religious today have largely lost the true spirit of prayer; there is less prayer today, but better prayer; there is really more prayer going on, in pri,date, although less in public to be seen by others; there are new modes of prayer around that are truly prayer even though they cannot at all be classified into the categories of the past. No doubt such statements are true for selected nmnbers of people, but how generalized we can make them it is impossible to say. But it seems that, based on widespread observation and report, some true generalizations are possible about the present-day prayer behavior of religious. Fewer religious are seen in their chapels, either for private prayer before the Blessed Sacrament or for com-munal exercises of prayer. When they do come together to pray, it is on a schedule that is notably more flexible and less demanding than even only a few years ago. There certainly has been adaptation in prayer "to the physical and psychological conditions of today's reli-gious" (Perfectae caritatis, n. 3). Changes in the forms of communal prayer have been widespread: exercises formerly thought best performed in common, like spiritual reading and visits to the Blessed Sacrament, are now considered more personal and private. The formulas of morning and evening prayer, which in many congregations grew like barnacles over the decades and even over the centuries, have been largely replaced by the official prayers of the Church, Lauds and Vespers or Compline. More recently, these official prayers have lost some of their novelty in those congregations where they were only recently introduced; hence there has been a rather widespread substitution of other readings for the Psalms, and this has here and there taken forms that are as contemporary as the latest popular literature. Today, then, there is certainly more variety, more improvisa-tion, more individual participation in prayer than there has been in the "Official" Church for centuries. It seems that another notable change with regard to the prayer life of religious is that, even though there may be less praying in public, the whole question of prayer has become explosively public. People talk about prayer more than perhaps at any other time since the Golden Age of Spanish mysticism in the sixteenth cen-tury. But the talk today would hardly be understood by a Spanish or any other variety of mystic: it deals not with degrees of the spiritual life, not with problems of aridity and desolation and dark nights of the soul, but with the very relevance of forms of prayer and of prayer itself in a secular age. There is a frankness in today's discussions about prayer totally unknown before. The superiority of prayer over service to others is seriously questioned. The assumption that there should be the same prayer for all at the same time and in the same place is simply rejected. And some of the traditional prayers of the Church come in for especially withering criticism, like the clear implication in the Hymn at Lauds for the Christmas season that the Infant Jesus was cold and hungry, and that choice bit from Psalm 136, at Thursday's Lauds: "Happy the man who shall seize and smash your little ones against the rocks." And "Good Night, Jesus," just does not seem to swing on an electric guitar. The whole place of prayer in the religious life, es-pecially in the formative years, has come under ques-tioning scrutiny. It would seem a valid generalization that until fairly recently young religious fresh "out of the world" and into the novitiate, for the most part, first were taught to pray, according to the accepted 4. 4- 4- Prayer LiJe VOLUME 28, ].969 749 ÷ ÷ ÷ John W. Sta~ord, C~.V. REVZEW FOR RELZG[OUS forms and customs of the congregation. Then, in seclu-sion from the world they learned how to live in charity with one another. Finally, if they belonged to the active societies, after a number of years of formation it was considered safe to permit them to engage in some form of external apostolate for the service of others, where they would meet "people of the world." Throughout they were taught to do all this for Christ who is God. It is not at all. clear that the concepts of Christ and of God of many religious today are those of even a decade ago. The Thomistic God of the philosophers is by no means accepted by all religious today. Maybe this was true a generation ago, too, but the fact is that if it was, one just did not say so! And views of Christ held today by many religious might have been labeled as tainted with heresy not at all long ago. It is not popular today to begin with prayer, for God through Christ, then move on to carefully guarded relationships with a highly se-lected group of chosen souls presumably much like yourself. You begin with people. In your encounters with people you learn more of yourself; and, if you are lucky, you come to see that people, ultimately, cannot really fulfill the totality of human needs. So God enters in, transcendent, it is true, but not at all the God with the carefully distinguished attributes of the old theo-logical manuals, and by no means always the God to whom novices formerly were taught to pray. But this God, nevertheless, is still a God to whom one prays. As everyone knows, a notable change in the prayer life of the contemporary religious, as in the prayer life of the whole Church, is the restoration of the centrality of the divine liturgy. Even though the importance or even the wisdom of daily Mass is questioned widely, and the forms of the Mass by no means always held to what is officially permitted, the Mass is still the great prayer of religious. It is a fact that many are dissatisfied with the Mass unless it is made something that they consider authentic, .dynamic, and fulfilling. The Liturgy of the Word is modified to fit the needs and interests of the participants, and the spontaneous changes made in the Liturgy of Sacrifice are in the direction of more personal meaningfulness and of greater social relevancy. A final fact that might be noted in today's prayer life of religious is that it can no longer be considered as restricted to the "ghetto" of the convent chapel. For the Mass at least, religious join more often than before with others in public church or university chapel. And those who do not belong to the congregation have now a warmer welcome than ever before to worship with religious in their own chapels. Religious, too, like all in the Church, have come to see that ecumenical prayer is a beautiful witness to the uriity and brotherhood of mankind. The PersonabCommunity Tension Throughout what has just been said we can distill out, amongst other things, a tension between the per-sonal or the private and the communal or public that, it would seem, is the greatest in history. Whether, as some would say, in the past the person became lost in the group or, as others would say, the group bestowed per-sonal fulfillment on the individual, there did in fact seem less tension between the two. Some things were done privately, some together; there seemed litde debate about it all. Certainly, there have always been in reli-gious communities as in all societies this elemental con-flict between the individual and the collectivity, the age old philosophical and very real and practical problem of the one and the many. But the conflict was generally controlled in the area of religious prayer. Today we witness a tremendous development of per-sonalism, of emphasis on the dignity and integrity of the individual. Though there is around, even in our highly sophisticated society, a lot of compulsive conforming to group norms and tribal customs, there is a more wide-spread and more intensive insistence on the importance of the individual. Read the documents of Vatican II and the pronouncements of our own contemporary popes; read the Declaration of the Rights of Man of the United Nations; recall the Four Freedoms of a generation ago; note the contemporary emphases everywhere on the rights of conscience and on freedom of religion; look at the map of the world. Everywhere there is insistence on self-government of peoples, on responsible self-determi-nation of the individual. Truly we can call this the supreme age in history of the individual person. Paradoxically, we can also see that never before in history has there been more "community." This can be seen, at one level, in the communications explosion of our age, the mass media of communication, the break-down of barriers of space and time by jet and satellite. Although there is certainly not peace throughout the world, nevertheless as never before in history a political or diplomatic brushfire anywhere is watched with alarm lest it become a world conflagration. Even though all men are by no means brothers, there is a longing for universal brotherhood, and progress towards it, that are truly remarkable. There is a concern for the poor and the unlettered and the deprived of the world as never before. This is clearly evident on a more local level. Vast groups of our own population are outraged, not because + + Prayer Liye VOLUME ~8, ~tg&~ ¯ 751 + 4. 4. John W. Sta~o~d~ .$.V. REVI
Issue 16.5 of the Review for Religious, 1957. ; A. M. D. G. Review for Religious SEPTEMBER 15, 1957 God's Living Sermon . Bonaventure Balsam Dismissal in Lay Institutes . Jo,eph g. ~,allen Our Supernatural Organism . Daniel J. M. Callahan Book Reviews Questions and Answers Roman Documents VOLUME 16 NUMBER 5 RI::VII:::W FOR RI:LIGIOU.S VOLUME 16 SEPTEMBER, 1957 NUMBER, 5 CONTENTS GOD'S LIVING SERMON AND MYSTERY-- Bonaventure Balsam, O.P . 257 DISMISSAL OF RELIGIOUS IN LAY INSTITUTES-- Joseph F. Gallen, S.J . 265 SOME BOOKS RECEIVED . 292 OUR SUPERNATURAL ORGANISMu Daniel J. M. Callahan, S.J . 293 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . i99 SURVEY OF ROMAN DOCUMENTS--R. F. Smith, S.J . 300 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS: 29. Professed of Temporary Vows and Return to Motherhouse for Perpetual Profession . " . '.309 30. Adaptation and Renovation and New Laws on Poverty . 310 31. Last Gospel According to the Simplified Rubrics .312 32. Masses. Permitted on the Saturday of Our Lady . 312 33. Personal Gifts and Poverty . 312 BOOK REVIEWS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS: Editor: Bernard A. Hausmann, S.J. West Baden College West Baden Springs, Indiana . 313 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1957. Vol. 16, No. 5. Published bi-monthly by The Queen's World, 3115 South Grand Blvd., St. Louis 18, Mo. Edited by the Jesuit Fathers of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approval. Second class mail privilege authorized at St. Louis, Mo. Editorial Board: Augustine G. Ellard, S.J.; Gerald Kelly, S.J., Henry Willmering, S.J. Literary Editor: Robert F. Weiss, S.J. Copyright, 1957, by The Queen's Work. Subscription price in U.S.A. and Canada: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U.S.A. Please send all renewals and new subscriptions to: Review for Religious, 3115 South Grand Boulevard. St. Louis 18, Missouri. God's Living Sermon and Myst:ery Bonavent:ure Balsam, O.P. WE CANNOT LOVE, reverence, and respect what we do not know: A religious priest, brother, or sister will never love and appreciate his life and vocation as much as it is lovable unless he first sees and tastes the indescribable nobility of that vocation. We begin to evaluate a thing rightly only when we begin to see it, to understand it, rightly. Misguided love follows on misguided and false knowledge, detestation often follows on the footsteps of ignorance. To a very great extent, the intensity' and scope of our love will depend on the genuineness and grasp of our knowledge. All religious preach God. They do so, not so much by word of mouth as by their whole life. Their preaching--and this is the judgment of the great minds of the Church- since it is by action, can make a far deeper and more lasting im-pression on the world than any or all the sermons preached in Notre Dame Cathedral. For religious are their own sermon and their own cathedral. In preparing and preaching .their sermon to the world, they must study, not so much the spoken word, as the far more powerful and vocal deed. If .we could summarize in a few words the influence which it is the role of a religious to have on the world about him, it is this: it is his vocation in life to teach the whole world this v~ery important lesson, "We have here no lasting city, but we look for 6ne which is to come." By their life, religious must preach that lesson to the world. It is the holy and privileged task of every religious to make the world unworldly, to teach the world to be divine, and to lift up the mind and heart of the world to God in one great offertory. The vocation of a religious is brought home to him every day in the Preface of 257 BONAVENTURE BALSAM. Review for Religious the Mass; he is to lift up the heart of the world to God in love, "Sursum Corda.'" And where a religious does not find love, he must see to.it that God puts love there. As St. John of the Cross says: "~ 'here there is no love, you must put love." To preach that sermon with its double element of detachment from the world and clinging to God is the vocation, par rxcellence, of every religious brother and sister. In a special way, and by special right, religious can apply to themselves the words of the same St. John: "The life of every religious sho~,ld be a complete doctrinal sermon." The life of every religious is one continuous paradox, a divine anomaly. Religious must love the whole world and everyone in it; yet they must ceaselessly try to keep it dis-satisfied with itself, discontented. Their life is one of opposi. tion to the spirit of the world and its maxims, one of constant disagreement and protest. That is a most unenviable task; and, like all opposition and protest, it brings with it much enmity and misunderstanding. That is why the-world often and in many ways misunderstands religious and scorns them. That is why, too, religious sometimes misunderstand them-selves and their role in the salvation of the world. In walk-ing down the street, every step a religious takes is a sort of step of protest, of admonition. He protests to the world and warns it that the glitter and tinsel meeting the eyes on all sides are all too ephemeral and passing and petty and that the only One worth living for and loving with every fibre of one's being is God. The way that they teach this to the world which they live in, but away from, is a most efficacious one. Religious preach to the world by the daily living of their vows which make their life unearthly because heavenly. By their vow of poverty religious lecture on the unending wonders of divine Providence. They lecture on that subject though they may never actually utter a word about it; they do not have to, for they live their subject. By the mere fact that they have freely and gladly relinquished all claim and aspira- 258 September, 1957 GOD'S LIVING SERMON tion to this world's goods, religious proclaim to the world that they trust in God's divine providence with an unshakeable confidence and that "possessing nothing, they have all things." For they have learned to "cast your care upon the Lord, who cares for you." Religious daily experience the truth of St. Paul's words: "As needy though enriching many; as having nothing and possessing all things." By that childlike confi-dence in divine Providence, a confidence solidified andmade a very part of their life and reridered inamissible, as it were, by their vow of poverty, religious take at face value the loving promise of our Lord that, if God is ever careful to feed the birds of the air and clothe the grass of the fields, will He not take infinitely greater care of a religious who is of much more value than they and the rest of the material universe combined? Moreover, by their vow of poverty religious te.ach a materialistic world an important lesson in divine economics, for they teach the world a proper sense of values, a divinely wise and exact evaluation of all creation. Religious appraise things for what they are--and are not--and proper ap-praisal of a thing is indispensable for its true appreciation and enjoyment. One can never love a thing rightly until one knows its true value; j~ust as one can never know its worth unless one knows the value God places on it. All of which means that we can never love a creature rightly except in and through God Who makes it worth whatever it is. In teaching mankind all this by ~he daily living of their vow of poverty, religious are teaching a most wise lesson. In so doing, they themselves become more wise and share their wisdom with others. For it belongs to the wise man to order and evaluate things rightly. By their vow of chastity, religious teach the world another saving lesson; they teach a selfish and unsacrificing world the value of sacrifice. Religious teach the world the fruitfulness of unfruitfulness. They teach the world that in order to win more of the children of God they have given them up. Relig- 259 BONAVENT~JRE BALSAM Review for Religious ious teach a grasping world that, in order to gain what is really worthwhile, one must lose what is really not worthwhile. They teach the world that oi~ten the only way to conquer is to surrender and that everything that one gives up for God he gains back again in God, and "pressed down, in good measure, and flowing over." And God besides. Religious give up a lesser privilege t~or a .greater one; they t~orego the privilege of bringing children into the world because to that privilege they pret~er the greater privilegi~ of bringing God into the world. So, in actuality, the chaste brotherhood or sisterhood of a religious is far more fruitful and noble than wedded t:ather-hood, or motherhood. There is something more that religious can do t~or the world and for God's children which often goes unappreciated even by themselves. Religious should realize the element of personal reparation and vicarious atonement inherent in their vow of chastity./ Vices are not only expelled, but are most fittingly atoned for, by. their opposite virtues. Religious are God's "chosen pedple." They stay the avenging hand of God by the purity of their lives. God, in looking upon the un-earthly purity of His religious, is moved to forgive the morass of impurity in which a great part of mankind is floundering and to give it grace to repent and change its evil ways. Here, again, the life of religious is a living protest to a "wicked and adulterous generation." The protest they lodge against the world is the silent protest ot~ their unassuming though uncon-cealable modesty and purity which, "like a city seated on a mountain top, cannot be hid." By their entire and absolute chastity, religious work to make this carnal world into a holy and pure generation. They must offer up their chastify, which makes them akin to the angels, as a protest to the world and and as a propitiatory sacrifice for its unspeakable impurities. Only the pure o~ heart will ever see God,. and they alone will be able to show God to others. God makes use o~ the conse-crated purity ot~ a religious to sterilize the world ot~ its in~ection 260 September, 1957 GOD'S LIVING. SERMON of impurity. Thus the~ freely chosen childlessness of religious is, .indeed, most fertile of good--their holy barrenness begets countless children of God. By their vow of obedience, religious proclaim to the world that the root of all sin lies in inordinate self-love and inordinate self-will. And they teach the world the remedy fo~ this ill. By their obedience, religious tell the world that the only way to escape out of the maddening labyrinth "of self and selfish-ness is to take one's will in both hands and exchange it for the #111 of God by riveting it to His most Sacred' Heart. The o~nly way to be truly free is.to serve m to serve God without stint. In this exchange of wills one's own narrowness and smallness are exchanged for the infinite generosity of God. The stagnate pool of selfishness ,is displaced by7 the restless sea of love which is God's holy will. And since the will of God is the cause of all good; since, too, religious have exchanged their will for His by vow, then they too will bring into the world and into the lives of men unlimited good. Religiods, by the life they lead, will diffuse through the universe some of the infinite goodness of God. In this vowed exchange of wills with God, religious be-come more and more sinless. For the more God's will dis- 'places theirs and becomes the motive force of their life and actions, the more religious approa.ch the state of impeccability --the impeccability of God's holy will. Hence, the more and longer God's. will works in them, the less will they fall into daily sins and faults, and the more they will do, and diffuse, good about them. The world seeing this transformation in religious, their own fellowmen, will first wonder at them, then admire them, and finally imitate them. And when the world imitates them, religious thus renew the face of the earth. They and the life they live. Besides being a living sermon on G~d, every religious is a living mystery also. Religious must have all the elements 261 BONAVENTURE BALSAM Review for Religious about them of a true mystery of faith. They must be thor-oughly supernatural. They must think, will, and act always on a supernatural plane. They must survey the whole of their own life and every event that befalls them from that super-natural ~vantage point, from the loft~; peaks of faith. Their viewpoint, their perspective of everything will always and every-where be determined by faith. Nothing will be purposeless; everything will be judged according to a divine pattern. All their assignments, and the minutest details and circumstances surrounding those assignments, must be looked upon and judged with the eyes of faith. The hardships and crosses of a par- ' ticular assignment, the trials and difficulties attached to an act of obedience, the misunderstandings and false accusations that may dog their steps, all these must be seen in their supernatural light. They must be seen as~having a definite .place in God's plan for their sanctification and salvation. Never will religious live on the merely natural level mthe level of those who have no faith. Rather, they must, under all circumstances, "live in such a way that their life would not make sense if God did not exist." God and their great faith in God must determine every decision religious make, must be the heart in every one of their motives for acting. By profession, and even more by religious consecration, religious belong to God and are familiar with God's ways. But religious are a living mystery for more reasons than that. As in the case of every' mystery, their life is one of im-penetrable paradox. Religious are in the very midst of the wo~ld, though they can never claim any of it as their own. By profession, they are consecrated down to their fingertips. Though they are vowed to seek after that peace which only God can give, still they are ever stirring up discontent and dissatisfaction. They are ever fomenting a rebellion against the ways of the world. A religious is an aposde of elevation; his whole life tends to. raise the general worth and standards of. mankind by the 262 September, 1957 GOD'S LIVING SERMON unearthliness and loftiness of his own life. He is the divine yeast in the rather inert and formless mass'of humanity without God. He is what the priest has been called, "the minister of restlessness." In looking upon his life, the world is wounded with a sort of tormenting longing for the divine. A religious may be rightly called "an apostle of the abso-lute." He is ever on a relentless search, a quest, not for that which is merely good, but for that which is God, for the Per-fect. His very religious consecration makes him ever a pilgrim, ever a foreigner to this wor/d, and en route to see the face of God. Whatever he finds, good, whether in himself or in others, he must ever try to make better. He is gripped by a continu-ous and divine unrest, which, oddly enough, is the great source of the profound peace which surrounds his life. That unrest takes the form of a hunger to be more united to God, though he knows full well that divine union must entail the painful surrendering of deep-seated attachments. It entails turning a deaf ear to the unending call of the flesh to pla~ riot in the warm fields of its pleasures; it entails purging out of one's spiritual organism the multiplicity of sins which plague it and keep it undeveloped, ~tunted, and impede its more complete union with God. All this means pain, struggle, denial, sacri-fice, and death. But the religious is equally aware that in the midst of all this struggle to embrace his God and never to let Him go there is a joy that makes all this tremendous effort and strife insignificant, short-lived, accountable as nothing at all. He knows that the more he peels away the outer bark of bitter self, the more he sees and tastes of the fruit of God with-in. He knows that the sufferinss of these times are like seasoning, sharp and bitter, but necessary to taste one's God, indeed to consume Him in love. Like ev.ery mystery, the religious .must remain beyond. the ken and grasp of the generality of mankind. He will be misunderstood, his actions misconstrued. So lofty and extra-ordinary is his life that those who see only with a fleshly eye 263 BONAVENTURE BALSAM will say that it is impossible or a huge deception. He will be considered a cowardly fugitive from the world, from reality; 'whereas, in truth, he pursues thd world in its flight from God, takes it in his arms as a father does a recalcitrant child, and offers it up to God in love. Instead of being a dreamer, as he is accused of being, he is the world's greatest realist, for he knows and appreciates God, the cause of all reality, and claims Him as his very own possession and gift to the world. Since he is a sort of special creation of God, the religious must remain unknown; he must n~ver become profane. When his life becomes common, banal, vulgar, a byword among the people, he is no longer a living and sacred mystery; he is now common knowledge. He has then lost that necessary quality of' super-naturalness. He must ever remain like a beautiful tree with its roots hidden in the earth and its head and heart in the heavens. Every religious is a living mystery. Like every divine mystery, he must be accessible to all those who ai, e seeking God. He and his life must ever be a source of awe for the world. Being a pilgrim and an apostle of the absolute, of perfection, he must keep the world dissatisfied, discontented with its smug and mediocre ways. He must be .the tangible and living expres-sion of the life of God and the degree in which it can be shared by grace. His life must be one of elevation, of an offertory. Sworn to pursue perfection, he must make himself and the world one grand host of love offered up to God in adoration, thanksgiving, petition, and atonement. From ttie rising of the sun even to the going down thereof, the religious must be a liv!ng mystery and sermon of God. 264 Dismissal ot: Religious in Lay Insfit:u es Lloseph g. Gallen, S.,J. 1. Definition. Dismissal is the compulsory departure from a religious institute during the time of the vows of the religious. Any religious, whether of solemn or simple vows, perpetual or temporary, may be dismissed. Dismissal is effected by the de-cree of the competent superior and by law, ipso facto, or automatically because of the commission of any of the crimes specified in canon 646. The present article is confined to the dismissal of religious in lay institutes. However, the norms are the same in other institutes for the dismissal of a professed of temporary vows and also for men of perpetual vows in a clerical non-exempt institute. The canonical prescriptions for the dis-missal of a clerical or lay religious man of perpetual vows in a clerical and exempt institute are likewise the same as in a lay institute of men except that in the former the crimes, admoni-tions, and incorrigibility must be proved in a judicial process. The provisional return to secular life is essentially the same in a clerical exempt institute (cc. 653; 668). The laws of the code and of the particular constitutions must be accurately' and sincerely observed in a dismissal. They were enacted to protect the rights of both the institute and the individual religious. It is very likely that an unusual number of highly unsatisfactory religious justifies a complaint against facility of admission and retention during the probationary periods rather than against the difficulty of dismissal. It is evident, also that the age of the religious is to be considered before deciding on the formalities of a dismissal, even though this is not mentioned in the code. Older religious should be dismissed only for most serious reasons. Their adjustment to secular life, especially in the case of a religious woman, is obvi-ousl'y more difficult. A religious whose conduct merits serious 265 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious thoughts of dismissal should practically always be first encour-aged to ask for an indult of secularization. Those who are found certainly unsuitable at any time during temporary pro-fession are to be counseled to ask foi: an indult of secularization rather than to wait until the voluntary departure or exclusion at the expiration of temporary vows. I. Competent Authority for Dismissal by Decree and for Final Adjudication of Provisional Sending Back to Secular Life . 2. In pontifical congregations. (a) For professed men and women of temporary vows (c. 647, § 1). The competent authority is the superior general with the deliberative and secret vote of his council. In the few constitutions where his part in any dismissal is mentioned, it is prescribed that the pro-vincial should consult his council before proposing a dismissal to the superior general. The provincial will usually, in fact, initiate a dismissal by proposing it to the superior general, Since the matter is one of greater importance, in prudence he should at lea~t ordinarily consult his council before doing so. (b) For professed of perpetual vows. 1° In congregations of men (c. 650, § 2, 2°). The superior general with the consent of his council is competent to decree the dismissal, but his decree has no effect until it is confirmed by the Sacred Congregation of Religious. 2° In congregations of women (c. 652, § 3). The Sac/ed Congregation of Religious alone is competent to decree the dismissal. 32 For professed of temporary or perpetual vows in diocesan congregations of men or women (cc. 647, § 1; 650, § 2, 1°; 652, § 1). The competent authority in all cases of men or women is the ordinary of the diocese where the house to which the religious is attached is located. The ordinary of the diocese of the generalate is competent only for religious attached to houses' in his diocese. In virtue of canon 647, § 1, the local ordinary may certainly initiate the dismissal of a professed of temporary vows. He probably possesses the same .right with regard to professed men or women of perpetual vows.' If the 266 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES ordinary initiates the dismissal, he is obliged to inform the superior general before dismissing the religious. He is also obliged to give consideration to the reasons the superior gen-eral proposes against the dismissal and is forbidden to dismiss a religious, if this superior ha~ just reasons against it. If he does so, the superior general has the right of recurring to the Sacred Congregation of Religious. 4. Societies living in common without~ public vows (c. 681). The norms of dismissal for pontifical and diocesan religious congregations ~pply also to these pontifical and diocesan socie-ties, i. e., the norms for the professed of temporary vows apply to members whose bond is temporary, those for religious of perpetual vows to members whose bond in such a society is per-petual. 5. In monasteries of nuns. (a) For professed of temporary vows .(c. 647, § 1). If the monastery is not subject to regu-lars, the competent authority is the local ordinary of the mon-astery. If the monastery is subject to regulars: two opinions are probable, i. e., the competent authority is either only the regular superior or, the more probable opinion, the regular superior and the local ordinary acting conjointly. (b) For professed of perpetual vows (c. 652, § 2). The competent authority is the Sacred Congregation of Religious, but all the documents and acks of the case are to be transmitted to the congregation by the local ordinary of the monastery with his own vote and that of .the regular superior, if the mon-astery is subject to regulars. 6. Obligation of competent authorities. The competent au-thorities, as well as the superior and his council who propose a dismissal to such authority, have a grave obligation in con-science to observe the norms for dismissal imposed by canon law (cf. c. 647, § 2). ~ Tabera, Corntnent,~rium Pro Reli]io$i$, 13-1932-124-25; 14-1933-35; Schaet:er, De Religiosis, n. 1602; Quinn, Relation of t/~e Local Ordinary to Religious o/ Diocesan/l$/~ro¢,al, 103-105. 267 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious . II. Dismissal by Decree of a Professed of Temporary Vows (cc. 647-48) 7. Sufficient" reasons for dismissal. (a) ' General principles (c. 647, § 2, 1°.3°). The authority dismissing a religious of tem-porary vows must have. moral certainty, i. e., a judg,ment that excludes a founded doubt, of the existence and sufficiency of the reasons. The reasons must be external to the extent that they are known by others. They mu~t also be ~sekious'or grave, which does not imply serious moral culp~ibilit~ or any culpa-bility at all. The general principies on the sufficiency 0f the reasons are that it is to the good of the institute not to retain the subject; the institute will suffer a notable harm or serious incon;cenience in retaining him; there is no hope that ~he reli-gious will be able to conform his life in a creditable or praise-worthy manner to the demands of .the constitutions; "lie lacks the general aptitude for the religious life or the special aptitude requisite for the spiritual life or works of. the particular insti-tute; and any reason is sufficient that is of the same or greater import than that stated by way of example in canon 647, § 2, 2°, i. e., a defect of religious spirit that 'is a cause of scandal to others. It is probable, as under exclusion from a further profession,~ that after more than six prescribed years in tem-porary vows a religious may be dismissed or~ly for reasons that are sufficient to dismiss a professed of perpetual vows. (b) Particular sufficient reasons (c. 647, § 2, 2°). A sufficient reason on the part of the institute is the lack of aptitude stated in the preceding paragraph. Sufficient-reasons on the part of the religious himself can be reduced to intelledtual defects, which is included under aptitude above, to health, which will be explained below, and to moral defects. Moral defects constitute" tl~e principal motive for dismissal. The code mentions only one sufficient cause of dismissal by way of ex-ample, and this is a habitual moral defect, i. e., a defect of 2Cf./IEwsw FOg RELXG~OL~S, July, 1957, 216-18. 268 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY ]INSTITUTES religious spirit that is a cause of scandal to others. This defect can be ascertained from the conduct and motives of the religious and from the effect of his conduct on others. Such a religious seems to lack all supernatural motives, and' acts almost constantly from those that are purely natural. He is de~oid of love, attachment, and devotion to the religious life and its duties. His transgressions arise from habitual negligence, sloth, weariness, perversity, and ill will, not from accidental weakness and frailty. He ,manifests little care or effort for per-sonal sanctification. In his conduct he "habitually violates the constitutions, rules, customs, and usages of the.institute, even if not in relatively serious matters. He obeys superiors with diffi-culty in matters that are not strictly commanded. He habitually omits, performs carelessly, or places little value on religious exer-cises. In its effect on others, the conduct described above is already scandalous in a person consecrated to God. Such conduct and the fact that .the motives and state of his will externally manifest themselves decrease in others respect and 'devotion to the religious life and its duties and make observance of religious disci-pline by others more difficult. Often there, is added the direct insti-gation of others to violations of religious duties and discipline. Among the equivalent habitual moral defects are the follow-ing. 1° Obedience. Habitual, unwilling, and grudging obedience; .habitual murmuring against and criticism of superiors; habitual negligence in fulfilling duties assigned by superiors. 2° Poverty. Repeated violations of the vow and of common life, even if not in serious matters. 3° Anger. One who is habitually quarrelsome or has an" ungovernable temper that~ breaks out in frequent and serious fitsof anger and causes frequent disturb-ance of the peace of the community, loss of peace of soul, insults, and injuries to companions, .and dissensions in the community. 4° Charity. One who is addicted to faults of the tongue that annoy, disturb, or provoke others to quarrels, Or that consist of frequent calumnies, detractions, imprudenc~e in speech or violations of secrets. 5° Disturber of the peace. A 269 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious habitual disturber of the peace of the community who creates or fosters dissatisfaction, dissensions, factions, or provokes to quarrels. 8. Necessity of repeated admonition and salutary penance with-out effect (c. 647, § 2, 2°). Any habitual moral defect is a sufficient reason for dismissal only when a repeated admonition together with a salutary penance has produced no effect. The code demands only that the subject should have been admon-ished at least twice, orally or in writing, secretly or in a manner /hat can be proved, by a local or higher superior, to reform his conduct. Canon law does not require here that the admoni-tion be given in virtue of a mandate from a higher superior or that a threat of dismissal be. added to the admonition. The salutary penance to be added to each admonition i~ one suitable for effecting the reform of the religious and the reparation of the scandal" already given. It will consist of the penances in use in the particular institute, e. g., recitation of determined prayers, an act of humility, or a public acknowledgment or reprehension of defects. A sufficient period of time is to be allowed to pass "after the second admonition to permit the religious to reform his conduct. After this period, if he has ¯ nbt reformed his conduct to such an extent that it can no longer be considered a sufficient cause for dismissal, he may be dismissed. Both for the reform of the religious and proof in the eCent of dismissal and recourse, the more secure and prudent ¯ dgctrine is to be followed in practice, i. e., a threat of dismissal is to be added to each admonition and the admonition and penance are to be given in such a way that there will be proof that both were given and received. This can be accomplished b'y¯giving the admonition and penance before two witnesses or in writing. A copy of such a document is to be retained. by the institute. 9. A single act as a sufficient reason. A religious of temporary vows may be dismissed because of a very serious single act, 270 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES e. g., a grave external s_in against chastity; formal contempt of the authority of superiors; violation of a formal precept .of obedience; an act that creates a danger of notable harm or infamy to the institute; serious scandal given once or twice in the community, or what is more serious, to seculars, when there are indications that the same thing will happen again.-~ A pro-fessed of temporary vows who becomes a fugitive from religion or does the same thing as an apostate from religion, even though he cannot technically be called an apostate because he is not in perpetual vows, may be dismissed because of either of these acts. :~ 10. Insul/icient reasons (c. 647, ~ 2, 2°). The statement of the religious that he never possessed or has lost a religious vocation or the mere agreement of the institute and the religious that he be dismissed are insufficient reasons. In either case, the religious, giving all the reasons that actually exist, may ask for an indult of secularization or may wait and depart at the expiration of temporary vows. Ill health is a sufficient reason for dismissal only if it was certainly fraudule.ntly concealed or dissimulated before the first profession of temporary' vows. Everything said under exclusion from a further profession because of ill health, lack of ability arising from ill health, ailments such as hysteria and neurasthenia, and insanity apply here also.~ 11. Procedure (c. 647, § 2, 3°). No special process is pre-scribed for attaining certainty of the existence and sufficiency of the reasons for dismissal nor for decreeing the dismissal. If it is d~cided to proceed to dismissal, the .necessary preliminary data should be written out first, i. e., the religious and family name of the subject, age, date of entrance into the postulancy and noviceship, date or dates of temporary profession, and the houses and employments to which the religious had been assigned. To this should be added a brief and accurate descrip-tion of the previous conduct of the religious. The formalities 3 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, May, 1957, 162-63. -1 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July, 1957, 219-20. 271 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious of dismissal are practically always preceded by a protracted period o'f most unsatisfactory conduct. The decision on dis-missal is then to be studied and obviously with the greatest care. The matters to be decided are whether certain proof is had of the existence and sufficiency of the reasons, of the admonitions given privately and of those given in writing or before witnesses with a threat of dismissal, and of the lack of effect, of these admonitions. Proof of the existence of the reasons will ordinarily be from signed statements of local superiors and councilors, principals of schools, companions in religion, etc. Canon 647, ~ 2, 3°, prescribes that all the reasons for dismissal, not the proofs nor the names of the witnesses, be manifested to the religious orally or in writing before dismissal. The proposal of the reasons in writing is preferable for proof. The religious must be given full liberty and a su~cient amount of. time to reply to the charges. He is .to be counseled to reply in writing. If his replies are given orally, they are to be taken down immediate!y in writing and he is to be requested to sign them. If he refuses, this is to be noted in the document on which his replies are given. His replies are to be submitted fully to the authority competent for dismissal. Everything given above in this number should have been followed also by the superior general and his council in a diocesan congregation and the superioress and her council in a monastery of nuns before tl~e written petition for dismissal is forwarded to the competent authority. The vote of the council should be given in writing to this authority. In a monastery of nuns, this vote must be deliberative.~ In a diocesan .congregation, the superior general will present the petition for a dismissal to the local ordinary; but the constitutions will frequently require the con-sultive or deliberative vote of his council for such a petition. The local ordinary and the regular superior must have certainty ~Cf. Tabera, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 12-1931-372-73; Larraona, ibid., 2-1921-364-65; Schaefer, 010. cir., n. 1584. 272 September', 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES of the existence and sufficiency of the reasons alleged in the representations of the superior. They accordingly have the right and duty of investigating the existence of the reasons, although this is usually proved in the proposal of the superior, and of weighing the seriousness of these reasons. 12. Dismissal. If the decision is for dismissal, a decree" of dismissal should be drawn up containing the date, name of the religious, the reasons for dismissai, and the statement that the religious is therewith informed of his right of suspensive recourse against the decree to the Sacred Congregation of Religious. The decree should either be read to the religious or he should be given a copy of it. Either the original-or a copy of the decree and of all the proofs and documents in the case is to be retained in the files of the institute. It would be well to give the religi-ous a written statement to the effect that he was l~gitimately dismissed from the institute and freed of all his vows and obligations. In the presence of two religious as witnesses, the dismissed religious is to be asked to sign the following or a similar docu-ment after it has beenread to him. "I realize that I am hereby informed that'I have the 'right of recurring to the Sacred Congregation of Religious against this decree of dismissal and that, if I make this recourse within ten days from this date, such a recourse will suspend the effect of this decree until offi-cial notification is received that the decree has been confirmed by the same Sacred Congregation." The two religious witnesses are also to sign as such. If the dismissed religious will riot sign, this refusal is to be noted on the document; and the two religious witnesses ard also to attest on the document to this refusal. This document also is to be retained by the institute. If the religious has already left the institute illicitly, th'e notification of the decree and of the right of suspensive recourse is to be sent to him by certified mail, which provides for a receipt, to the sender and a record of delivery at the offi~ce of the address. 13. Suspensive recourse (c. 647, § 2, 4°). The one who 273 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious communicates the decree of dismissal is counseled in a reply of the Sacred Congregation of Religious to inform the religious of his right of recourse.° This should always be done; and several authors advise that this information be included, as above, in the decree of dismissal. The religious has the right of making a suspensive recourse to the Sacred Congregation of Religious against the decree of dismissal within ten days from the date on which he was informed of the decree. The first day is not counted. If the religious was informed of the decree on June 1, the time begins to run on June 2 and expires ~it midnight of June 11-12. The time does not run for any period during which the subject is ignorant of his right or unable to act, e. g., because of illness. The recourse is to be made by letter, either immediately by the subject or mediately through the superior who communicated the decree to him. The subject is to give his reasons againsf the dismissal. Proof that he had made the recourse is had by the authentic document of his own letter or the testimony of two trustworthy witnesses. The recourse within ten, days suspends the effect of the decree, which is completely ineffective until the authority that issued the decree is notified of its confirmation by the Sacred Congre-gation of Religious. While the recourse is pending, the subject is not dismissed and remains a religious with the same obligations as any other professed of temporary vows. He has the right and obligation of dwelling, under obedience to superiors, in the religious house assigned by them. If the religious does not wish to make recourse but to leave the institute immediately after the. decree is communicated to him, he may do so. Superiors may oblige him to leave immediately only if he has declared in writing that he will not m~ike recourse.7 Otherwise the religious is to remain until the ten days have elapsed without recourse having been 0 Bouscaren, Canon Law Digest, 1,329. ¢ Cf. c. 1880, 9°; Coronata, Manuale Practicum luris Discipli~iaris et Criminalis Regularium, n. 248. 274 September, 1957~ DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES made. A subject may als6 make recourse after the lapse of the ten-day period, but such recourse does not suspend the effect of the dismissal, 14. Effects of dismissal (c. 648). Canon 648 frees a professed of temporary vows, as soon as the decree of dismissal is effective, from all the vo~,s of his religious profession. There is no need of a dispensation from the vows. The ~ther effects are the same as explained under secularization in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1956~ 233-36. III. Dismissal. By Decree of a Professed of~ Perpetual Vows (cc. 649,52; 669, .~ li 672, ~ 1) 15. Sufficient reasons. (a) In institutes of men (cc. 649; 656, I°). Three grave and external crimes of the same or different species in the proper sense of canon 2195, § 1, two admonitions, and incorrigibility a~e necessary. A violation of any positive law accompanied l~y special gravity or scandal is also a crime (c. 2222, § 1). The following are examples of sufficient ¯ reasons:' serious sins against common life, external si~s against chastity, disobedience to formal precepts, formal contempt of authority, rebellion against superiors, seriously impeding the government of superiors, creating or fomenting factions in the community, drunkenness, striking companions in religion, seri-ous diffamation of others or 0f the institute, apostasy or flight from religion, as also violations of the vows or of the ~onstitutions that constitute a specially grave offense or give rise to~ grave scandal in or outside the institute. These acts must be seriously sinful objectively and subjectively. Crimes of different species should be such as to reveal, when viewed collectively, a will obstinate in evil (c. 657).s (b) In institutes of women (c. 651, § 1). The same reasons are required for the dismissal of any religious woman of per-petual vows, whether solemn or simple. The reasons must be s Cf. Creusen, Religious Men and Women in the Code, n. 353; Bastien, Directoire Canonique, n. 634, 1, 1°; Tabera, op. cit., 14-1933-267; Beste, Introductio in Codicem, 443,448. 275 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious external, culpable, serious, and joined with incorrigibility. The reasons have to be external to the extent that they are known by others. The code requires culpable but does not certainly demand seriously culpable reasons. Inculpable reasons, e. g., lack of aptitude and physical and intellectual defects do not suffice for the dismissal of a perpetually professed religious. The reasons must be serious or grave. Finally, the reasons must be joined with incorrigibility, i. e., attempts at correction were made and their lack of success proves that there is no hope of amendment. ~The following are general examples of sufficient reasons: violations of the vows, constitutions, and religious dis-cipline that are considered more serious, even though in them-selves they are not mortal sins, or that cause serious scandal in or outside the community; and conduct that causes a notable spiritual or temporal harm to the community. The following are examples of particular sufficient reasons: repeated violations of~the vow of poverty, even after admonitions, reprehensions, penances, and even though the matter in itself does not consti-tute a serious sin; repeated and more serious acts of disobedi-ence; exciting others to rebellion and insubordination; arousing others against superiors by word or conduct; impeding the authority of superiors; disturbing the peace of the community by constant murmuring and complaints; causing dissensions and factions in the community; and the diffamation of the institute or its members among seculars. The reasons given above for men also evidently suffice for the. dismissal of women, since less serious reasons are required for the dismissal of women. Incorrigibility supposes repeated or habitufil actions. There-fore, one violation does not suffice for the dismissal of a per-petually professed religious woman. As in the case of religious men of perpetual vows, there must be at least three violations or one continued violation which, after a double admonition, becomes vi'rtually three violations. These three violations may all be of the same species, e. g., all against poverty; they may be of different species, e. g., one against poverty, the second 276 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES against obedience, and the third contrary to charity. The one continued violation is verified in such things as apostasy from religion, being a fugitive from religion, and a refusal to obey. The apostate who has been admonished twice to return to religion and refuses commits virtually three violations, the original act of apostasy and the two refusals to return (c. 657). 16. Attempts at correction and 'incorrigibility (cc. 649; 656- 62; 651, § i). Everything below on the admonitions and incor-rigibility is of obligation 'from canon law in lay institutes of men. The code does not determine just what' 'the attempts at correction are to consist of in the case 'of religious women but leaves these and the judgment of the incorrigibility to the supeiioress. However, the doctrine that is more probable :in itself and to be followed in practice is that the canons on religious men should be extended to women, i. e., there should be two admonitions coupled with suitable corrections and penances. When these produce no effect, the religious wom£n may be judged in-corrigible. 17. Admonitions (cc. 658-62). (a) Prerequisite certitude of first violation (c. 658). Before the first admonition may be given, there must be certitude, not mere suspicion, probability, or conjecture, of the commission of the first violation. If cer-titude is not had, a further investigation of the conduct of the religious may be. made. If the investigation does not give certitude, an admonition may not be given. (b) Matter of the admonitions (c. 661). The' essentialnotes of an admonition are three: the superior reprehends the religiou~ for the violation already committed; warns him to avoid slich conduct in the future; and adds a threat of dismissal if the religious should persist in such conduct. The thi:eat of dismissal is always to be added to the admonition in the case of a per-petually professed religious man or woman (c. 661,. § 3). 9 Statuta a Sororibus Externis 8er~anda, n. 119; Coronata, lnstltutiones luris Canonici, I, n. 651; Palombo, De Dimissione Religiosorum, n. 179; Tabera, o~. cit., 13-1932-123; Bastien o/,. tit., rt. 639, 3. 277 JOSEPH ~. GALLEN Review for Religious The superior is also to add to the admonitions: 1° an apt exhortation, i. e., to give motives to the religious for the reform of his conduct; 2° an apt correction, i. e., to show the religious the disorder of his past conduct, its effect on himself and .others, on the community and the institute; 3° preventive measures against a future violation. Almost necessarily these will imply putting the religious under the vigilance of a superior. Other such measures that the particular case demands are also to be employed, e. g., changing the employment or house of the religious and, in general, removing and lessening the occasion of a future violation. 4° apt penances. These are to be added to each admonition. Their aptitude is to be judged from their suitability for effecting the amendment of the religious and the reparation of the scandal already given. (c) Number and form of the admonitions (c. 660). There must be two admonitions, one for each of the first two viola-tions. In a continued violation, at least three full days must elapse between the first and second admonition. The admoni-tions are to be given in such a way that there will be proof that ' they were given and received. They are accordingly to be given before two witnesses or in writing.When given before witnesses, it is better to have the admonition also written out, to retain a copy, and have the two witnesses sign this copy to the effect that they witnessed the giving of the admonition. If given in ¯ writing, the religious is always to be made to sign a document to the effect that he received the admonition, a copy of the admonition is always to be retained, and two witnesses are to attest that the copy agrees with the original. If the religious is'outside the institute, e. g., as an apostate or fugitive, the admonition is to be sent to him in writing by certified mail (cf. n. 12). (d) Competent superior for admonitions (c. 659). In institutes of men, the admonitions should be given by the immediate higher superior personally or through another authorized for the purpose. An authorization given for the first admonition 278 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LA~ INSTITUTES suffices also for the second. From analogy, the same principles are to be followed in an institute of women. (e) Interval and violation after the second admonition (c. 662). After the second admonition, there must be a third vio-lation or a refusal to obey the second admonition in the case of a continued violation. An interval of at least six full days is to elap, se between the second admonition and any further action in a continued violation.'° After the third violation or the lapse of the six days without sincere repentance, the religious is canonically incorrigible and may be dismissed. If he sincerely repents within the six days, ¯ he is not incorrigible and may not be dismissed. If such repen-tance is verified only after the third violation or after the six days, action on the dismissal may be continued, since the religious is canonically incorrigible; but it would be better to discontinue such action provisionally, because the religious is not in fact incorrigible,n If the religious later commits another violation, the formalities of dismissal may be continued unless the reforma-tion of thereligious was sincere and complete. Such a reforma-tion excludes the computation or inclusion of past violations and admonitions and requires that the formalities of dismissal be begun anew. A sincere and complete reformation demands that the religious, e. g., have avoided the occasions of violations, have been willing to repair scandal by public penance, and have been more than ordinarily faithful to religious observance. The common doctrine is that such an amendment of conduct should have continued for three years, but a lesser space of time, e. g., a year, will su~ce in the case of extraordinary repentance.12 l°Cf. Tabera, 0p. cit., 14-1933-273; Toso, Commentaria Minora, II, II, 268; Chelodi-Ciprot~i, lus Canonicura de Personis, n. 291; De Carlo, Jus Religiosorum, n. 587. 11Cf. Goyeneche, De Religiosis, 217; De Carlo, oiO. cir., n. 587; Schaefer, oil: clt., n. 1629; Palombo, 0/~. cir., n. 113; Coronata, 0/L cir., 867; Beste, 0/~. cir., 450; Jone, Commentarium in Codicem Iuris Canonici, I, 586. ~2Cf. Goyeneche, op. cir., 217; De Carlo, oiO. cir., n. 587; Schaefer, o/,. cir., n. 1629; Palombo, op. tit., n. 114; Beste, oiO. cit., 450; Jone, o~O. tit., 586; Coropata, op. cit., 864. 279 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious 18. Procedure (cc. 650-52). (a). Intervention of the superior general and his council. In pontifical or diocegan lay institutes of men, canon 650, §§ 1-2, not only require that- the dismissal of a professe~ of perpe~tual vows be submitted to th~ superior gen-eral but also demand a deliberative vote of his council for such a dismissal. Canon law "does not clearly demand the interven-tion of the mother general nor of her council in the dismissal of .a professed of perpetual vows. However, from analogy with the law on the dismissal of religious men of perpetual vows and the constant practice of the Sacred Congregation of Religi-ous in the approval of constitutions, the dismissal of a professed woman of perpetual vows in both pontifical'and diocesan congre-gations is to be referred to the mother general and h'er council and the council is to have a deliberative vote.la For the same reasons, the deliberative vote of the council is required in a monastery of nuns. The remarks on the provincial and his council in n. 2 (a)apply here also. A proviricial should prac-tically never initiate the formalities of dismissal except after having consulted the superior general. The superior general and his council should have the pre-liminary data on the' religious drawn up, as stated in n. 11. To'this document are to be added a description of the three violations, proof of their existence, and proof that the admoni-tions Were properly given and received. As explained in n. 11, the reasons for the dismissal are tg, be fully manifested to the religious; and his replies in writing are to be submitted to the authority competent for dismissal. The matters .to be decided are whether certain proof is had of the three violations, of the giving and reception of the admonitions, and of the incorrigi-bility of the religious. (b) If the decision is for dismissal. 1° In a pontifical congre-gation. The mother general is to transmit all the acts and a:~Cf. Larraona, Commentarium Pro Religlosis, 2-1921-364-66; Ta~era, op. cir., 14-1933-53-54; Schaefer, op. cit., n. 1608; Jone, op. cit., 578; Muzzarelli, Tractatus Canonicus de Congregationibus Iuris Dioecesani, 175; Goyeneche, op. cit., 219; Bastien, op. cir., n. 640. 280 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES documents of the case along with the vote of her council to the Sacred Congregation of Religious (cf. n. 2). In a congregation of brothers, the same things are to be sent to .the Sacred Con-gregation. However, the brother general,, with the deliberative vote of his council, decrees the dismissal; but this has no effect until it is confirmed by the Sacred Congregation (cf. n. 2). A superior who transmits a case to the authority competent for dismissal may include further information from himself or the members of the council in, addition to the latter's vote. 2° In a diocesan congregation, of brothers or sisters. The same things are to be forwarded to the local ordinary (cf. n. 3). The matters to be decided by the ordinar~ are the same as those stated above. He may summon the religious, defer the dis-missal and prescribe further attempts at correction, deny the dismissal, or issue the decree of dismissal. 3° In a monastery of nuns. The superioress is to transmit the same things to the local ordinary and the regular superior (cf. n. 5). 19. Dismissal. The religious is dismissed only at the moment that he or she receives legitimate notification of the decree of dismissal or of the confirmation of the Sacred Congregation of Religious in the case of religious men.~ Before that time he may neither leave the institute nor may the institute eject him. He is then to leave the institute, unless he is a member of a diocesan congregation, as will be immediately explained. 20. Recourse. (a) In any pontifical lay institute of men or women. The religious may recur io the Holy See against the decree of dismissal, but this recourse does not suspend the effect of the dismissal. The code gives no such right, and the Holy See has both examined ihe reasons of the religious against the dismissal and has itself effected or confirmed the dismissal. (b) In any diocesan congregation of men or women. The code says nothing on the right of the religious to recur to the Holy See against a dismissal effected by the local ordinary. a4 Palombo, op. cit., nn. 144, 187; O'Leary, Rdi.oious Dismissed after Perpetual Profession, 47-50. 281 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious However, it is admitted that the religious has the right of recur-ring. to the Sacred Congregation of Religious against the decree; and, if made within ten days from the date on which the religi-ous was informed of the decree, this recourse suspends the effect of the dismissal. This right to a suspensive recourse follows a fortiori from the fact that such a right is granted to a religious of temporary vows dismissed by the local ordinary (c. 647, ~ i, 4°). Therefore, everything said in n. 13 under ¯ the dismissal of a professed of temporary vows applies here also. 21'. Effects of dismissal (cc. 669, § 1; 672, § 1). (a) If dis-missal frees from the vows. The code itself (c. 669, § 1 ) does not free a dismissed religious of perpetual vows from the vows of religious profession by the very fact of the dismissal. Such a liberation may be effected by a provision of the particular constitutions, or the Holy See may append a dispensation to the dismissal, or the dismissed religious may petition the Sacred Congregation of Religious in the case of pontifical institutes or the local ordinary in that of diocesan institutes for a dispen-sation. 1~ The religious is to be most earnestly encouraged to make such a petition, and the superiors are willingly to aid him. Constitutions of lay congregations submitted to Rome in the earlier years after the Code of Canon Law became effective, May 19, 1918, uniformly do not provide that legitimate dismis-sal of a perpetually professed religious frees from the vows; tho~e submitted in more recent years frequently contain this provision. The latter practice should be followed in any revis-ion of pontifical or diocesan constitutions. Ill such a provision is contained in the constitutions, the dismissal frees from all the vows of religious profession as soon as the decree is effective. There is no need of a dispensation from the vows. The other effects are the same as explained under secularization in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1956, 233-36. (b) If the dismissal does not free from the vows (c. 672, § 1). Canon 672, § 1, prescribes that a religious of perpetual is Cf. Muzzarelli, o~. cir., 306. 282 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES vows who has been dismissed without being freed of his vows is obliged to reform his.life so that he will be worthy .of being received back into the institute. If the dismissed religious has manifested a complete reform during a period of three years, he is obliged to return to the institute and the la'tter~ is obliged to take him back. Howe.ver, it is the far more probable interpre-tation that this canon applies only to a religious in sacred orders (priest, deacon, subdeacon).'6 If the dismissed lay religious will not voluntarily petition a dispensation from the vows, the practical remedy is to submit the case immediately to the Sacred Congregation of Religious. A professed of~ perpetual vows is also to be given an official statement to the effect that he had been l~gitimately .dismissed, and mention should b~ made as to whether he had been freed of the vows by the dismissal or a concomitant or subsequent dispensation. IV. Dismissal By Law (c. 646) 22. Definition. This dismissal is effected automatically by canon 646 itself by the very fact and at the instant that any of the three crimes specified in the canon is committed. Therefore, the law itself, not the decree or declaration of a superior, effects the dismissal. In its nature, the dismissal is a punishment in-flicted for the crime and also a means given to religious, insti-tutes to free themselves immediately of members who have perpetrated most serious crimes against the religious life. 23. Subject. The subject of the il~so facto or dismissal by law of canon 646 is any professed religious, man or woman, of solemn or any type of simple vows, whether perpetual or tem-porary, and the members who have been aggregated perpetually or temporarily in societies living in common without public vows (c. 681). A postulant or novice is not the subject, but the commission of any of these three crimes is certainly more 'than a sufficient reason for his dismissal by the decision of the competent superior. ~6 Cf. Fanfani, De lure Religiosorum, 703-705. 283 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious 24. "Religious who have publicly apostatized from the Catholic faith" (c. 646, § 1, 1°). The crime is simply public apostasy from the Catholic faith. (a) Simply. The canon does not demand that the religi-ous have joined a non-Christian sect, e. g., Judaism, Buddhism, Mohammedanism. The crime can be" verified either in or out of such a sect. "(b) Public (c. 2197, 1°). In the case of a religious, a crime is public when it is actually known or is in serious and immediate danger of being known by at least a notable part of the mem-bers of the religious house to which the delinquent is attached.1~ It is not necessary that such knowledge or danger extend.to the province, institute, or to externs. External apostasy that has not attained this publicity does not effect dismissal by law. (c) Apostasy from the Catholic faith (c. 1325, ~ 2). Apos-tasy is the act of a baptized person who formally" denies or positively doubts about the entire Christian-faith. The unbap-tized are infidels, not apostates, heretics, or schismatics. Formally means that there must be a subjective mortal sin in the act. A doubt is the suspension of the acceptance of the intellect. A positive doubt is had when the intellect judges that there are sufficient reasons for affirming and denying the proposition, that the reasons on neither side are convincing, and therefore the intellect suspends assent to the proposition. In a negative doubt, the intellect suspends assent because it does not p~rceive reasons either for affirming or 'denying the proposition. This is to be classed rather as ignorance. As in heresy, /~ positive doubt constitutes an injury to the faith and is sufficient four apostasy.18 The one who so doubts has had the truth suffi-ciently proposed to him, but he positively judges that the truth is not sufficiently proposed and that contrary reasons make it uncertain. ~ Cf. Michiels, De Delictis et Pornis, 117-18. ~8 Ciprotti, De Consummatione Delictorum, 15; Coronata, o,O. cir., IV, n. 1856. 284 Septe,~be~', 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES Apostasy is a denial or positive doubt concerning the entire Christian faith, e. g., the existence of God, the fact or possibility of the Christian revelation, the fact or possibility of the supernatural order. Apostasy is therefore distinguished from heresy or schism. A heretic is a baptized person who formally denies or positively doubts about one or some dogmas of faith. A schismatic is a baptized person who formally refuses to submit to the spiritual authority of the Roman Pontiff or to communicate with the other members of the Church (c. 1325, ~ 2). Canon 646 mentions only apostasy and thus inflicts dis-missal by law only on apostates, not on heretics or schismatics. (d) Excommunication (c. 2314). An apostate incurs by the very fact of the apostasy an excommunication reserved in a special manner to the Holy See. An excommunication demands merely that the act be external and not that it be public. 25. "A religious man who h~as run away with a woman or a religious woman who has run away with a man" (c. 646, ~ I, 2°). The crime will be explained with a religious man as the subject. Four notes are required to constitute this crime. The last three are only probably required in theory but are certainly necessary in fact to effect the dismissaI (cc. 15, 19). (a) The religious man must be united physically or morally in flight from one place to another with a woman. It is not required that the r.eligious be an apostate or fugitive from religion in the canonical sense of canon 644J" Flight in canon 646 has the common and ordinary sense of running away with a woman. The crime, is completed as soon as this notion is verified, without any consideration whatever of the length of absence from the religious house. The intention of returning or not returning, of contracting or not contracting marriage has nothing to do with the crime. Both must flee, since the canon demands that the religious man have run away with a woman. This is verified physically if both start out from the religious house; it is verified morally. 19 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, May, 1957, 155-64. 285 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for "Religious if the religious alone flees in virtue of a previous agreement to meet the woman. The moral union is caused l~y the previous agreement; if such an agreement does not exist, there is no flight. In a doubt, this agreement is'to be presumed if.there was an illicit attachmehr or familiarity beforehand and union shortly after the departure of the religious; otherwise the agree-ment must be proved. The dismissal is effected at the begin-ning. of the flight. The flight described above is always neces, sary. Without such flight, neither concubinage nor the illicit leaving of the. house to sin with a woman, even though done frequently and furtively, constitutes the crime. When tlqe flight of this canon is difficult to prove, as is often true, an investiga-tion is to be made as to the existence of a marriage ceremony. It is rare in such cases that the woman does not insist on some form of marriage ceremony. (b) Probably the motive of the ,flight must be the satisfaction of lust. The iaecessity of such a motive is implicit in the text of the law and is part of the common notion of running away with a woman. Ordinarily this motive is to be presumed as soon as the other notes are verified.2° (c) Probably the woman must have attained puberty and not be a relative by blood or marriage in the direct line (mother, grandmother, etc.) or in the first degree .o~ the collateral line (sister) of the religious man. Puberty in a girl is attained can-onically on the day after the twelfth birthday, in a boy on the day after the fourteenth birthday (c. 88, § 2). The correspond-ing relatives will apply in the case of a religious woman, i. e., father, grandfather, brother. The necessity of this note is founded on the extrinsic authority of several authors. It has little foundation in the text of the law. The sense of the law is rather that the lustful motive is presumed not to exist with such persons but, if proved, the crime exists. Otherwise, the state of the woman is indifl:erent. It is of no import that she z°Cf. Tabera, Ol~. cir., 11-1930-416; Goyeneche, oil. cir., 209; Vermeersch, Periodica, 19-1930.122". 286 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES is married, unmarried, capable or incapable of contracting marriage validly;. (d) Probably proof must exist of the preceding, requisites. The probability of this doctrine arises from the fact that the other two crimes of canon 646, public apostasy and marriage, are of their nature capable of proof and from the extrinsic authority of some authors. If the religious has verified the other notes but the crime is so secret that this fourth note is not verified, he is not dismissed by law."~l Any proof that gives moral certi-tude suffices, e. g., the testimony of reliable witnesses. (e) Excommunication (c. 2385). Obviously the flight described above will usually also imply apostasy from religion if the religi-ous has perpetual vows and thus the incurring i/)so fdcto of an excommunication reserved to the ordinary.-~" 26. "A religious who attempts or contracts marriage, even the so-called civil marriage" (c. 646, § 1, 3°). The crime is the contracting (validly) or the attempting (invalidly) of marriage by any type of Catholic, non-Catholic, or civil ceremony pro-vided both parties gave a naturally valid consent. The form of celebration of a civil marriage must be valid according to the civil law of the place of celebration. A solemn vow of chastity renders marriage invalid; a simple vow forbids but does not invalidate marriage. The crime presupposes a marriage consent valid" from the natural law and is not verified if the consent is vitiated in either party by an essential defect, e. g., ignorance, simulation, physical violence, grave fear. However, it is to be presumed that true consent was given; and this pre-sumption is sufficient to declare the religious~dismissed. In itself, the invalidity of the marriage does not exclude the crime, i. e., the crime is still verified if the marriage is invalid because it was attempted outside the Church or because of a diriment impedi-ment. ~lGoyeneche, Quaestiones Canonicae, II, 153; Schaefer, op. cir., n. 1578; Bas-tien, op. cir., 446, note 2; Jone, o~0. tit., 572; Jombart, RevUe des Communautets Religieuses, 6-1930-148. 22 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, May, 1957, 158. 287 JOSEPH ~. GALLEN Review for Religious Excommunications (cc. 2388; 2319, § 1, I°~; 2385). By presum-ing to attempt marriage, both a solemnly professed religious and the other party incur an excommunication reserved simply to the Holy See (c. 2388, §.1); if the vows of the religious are simple but perpetual, the presuming to contract or attempt marriage is punished in both parties by an excommunication reserved to the ordinary (c. 2388, § 2). If the marriage is attempted before a non-Catholic minister, the punishment of a Catholic is an excommunication reserved to the ordinary (c. 2319, § 1, 1°). A marriage ceremony implies an intention never to return to the institute and thus results in an excommunication for apostasy from religion reserved to the ordinary in the case of a religious of perpetual vows (c. 2385). A civil ceremony is not punished by the code, but in some dioceses of the United States it is punished by an excommunication reserved to the o~dinary and in some others it constitutes a reserved sin. 27. Effects (c. 646, ~ 1). Upon the commission of any of the three crimes, the religious is immediately an.d i~pso facto dis-missed, by canon 646. This dismissal by law is a legitimate dis-missal and produces all the effects of the ordinary dismissal by decree. Therefore, in the case of a professed of temporary vows, the effects are ~he same as those described in n. 14; if the religious is. of p.erpetual vows, the effects are those of the'ordinary dismissal exp!ain~d in n. 21. 28. Declaration of fact (c. 646, ~ 2). This canon commands the higher superior with the consultive vote of his council to make a declaration of fact concerning the crime. Some con-stitutions restrict this right to the superior general, and some also demand a deliberative vote of the council. In monasteries of nuns, the declaration is to be made by the superioress of the monastery with the consultive or deliberative vote of the council or chapter as commanded by the constitutions. The declaration of fact is merely a description of the pertinent points of the case, the headings of the proof, e. g., a copy of the marriage record, statement of witnesses, etc., and the conclu- 288 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES sion that the religious ~was dismissed in virtue of canon 646. The local superior is ordinarily in the best position to secure these proofs, e. g., the statements of witnesses. Frequently a trustworthy man such as a lawyer or priest should be deputed to secure some of the proofs in the case of an institute of women, e. g., the copy of the marriage record. The declara-tion and proofs are to be retained in the secret files of the house of the higher superior who made the declaration. The pur-pose of the declaration is to possess proof of the automatic dismissal and to prevent future doubts and difficulties, particu-larly for the eventuality of a recourse by the subject to the local ordinary or the Holy See. V. Provisional Sending Back to Secular Life (c. 653) 29. Subject. The subject of thi~ provisional return is any pro-fessed religious, man or woman, and any aggregated member of a society living in common (c. 681). Canon 653 speaks explicitly only of the perpetually professed; but afortiori, from afialogy of law, the common opinion of authors, and the practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions, the same canon applies to the professed of only temporary vows and to the aggregated members whose bond with the society is only tem-porary. 30. Reasons required. The reason must be either of the fol-lowing: (a) Grave external scandal. This is a culpable defamatory act, committed within or outside the religious house, which is well known outside the house or known only to a few externs, who, however, will not keep the matter a secret, e. g., a sin against good morals. (b) Very serious imminent injury to the community. This is an extraordinary injury or harm certainly and proximately threatening at least reductively, not merely one or some individ-uals but the religious house, province, or institute. The religious must be the cause of this harm but it is not certain that he 289 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for" Religious must be a culpable cause. Examples of this reason are the proximate judicial accusation of a defamatory crime in either the moral or political order; sexual actions with students in an institute devoted to education when it is foreseen that these wil][ become public and bring infamy on the house, province, or institute; a serious threat to set the house on fire or against the life of a superior or another member of the institute; and a serious loss of temporal property of the house, province or institute. (c) Three conditions required in both cases. Since such an extraordinary action should not be taken against a religious because of mere probability, conjecture, or suspicion, the ex-istence of the cause must be certain; it must also be impossible to avoid the scandal or harm in other ways, e. g., by transferring the religious to another house; and there must be at least prob-ability that the scandal or harm can be averted or appreciably diminished by the provisional return to secular life. 31. Competent authority. (a) Ordinarily. Canon 653 gives the right for such action in lay institutes to the higher superior with the consent of his council. The right is therefore given by the ~ode also to provincials, even though the constitutions may affirm it only of the superior general. In prudence and if possible, the provincial should refer the case to the superior general or at least consult the latter. In a monastery of nuns, "the competent authority is the superioress with the consent of her council. (b) In a more urgent case. In a case in which the time re-quired for recourse to the superior general or provincial would imperil the avoidance of the scandal or injury, the competent authority is the local superior with the consent of his council and also the consent of the local ordinary. If it is impossible to have recourse to the local ordinary and the case will not admit _.3 Berutti, De Religiosis, 349; Bouscaren-Ellis, Canon La~w, 319. 290 September, 1957 DISMISSAL IN LAY INSTITUTES o~. delay, it is.safely probable that this action may be taken by the local superior with only the consent of his council.'~4 32. Final adjudication of the case. (a) Report. A report of the case should always be made out without delay and submitted to the authority competent for a final decision of the matter. The report is to contain the religious and family name of the subject, date, age, date of entrance, date of temporary or perpetual profession, house to which he was assigned at the time of the return to secular life, cause of this return, proofs and present state of this cause, a brief record of the past of the religious insofar as it is pertinent to the cause 6f his return and dismissal, the name and rank of the superior who effected the return, the fact that the consent of the council and of the local ordinary, when prescribed, was obtained; and, if the latter was not secured, the report is to state the reasons that'justified its omission. (b) Authority competent for a final decision. Canbn 653 states that the case is to be referred to the Holy See without delay. This canon, however, is to be interpreted in the light of the other canons on the competent authority for dismissal; and it is admitted doctrine that the authority competent for an ordinary dismissal by decree is competent also for the final decision in the case of a provisional return to secular life.~'~ Therefore, the case is to be referred, according to the nature of the institute and the vows of the subject, to the authority competent for dismissal by decree stated in nn. 2-5. 33. Effects. As soon as the provisional return is decided, the re-ligious puts off the religious habit and leaves the institute. The return to secular life is a provisional measure. It is not a dismissal and does not produce the effects of a dismissal. The competent authority mentioned above decides for or against dismissal and 24Cf. Tabera, 0p. tit., 14-1933-58; Goyeneche, De Religiosis, 221, note 31; Palombo, op. cir., n. 192; Schaefer, 0iL cir., n. 1609; O'Neill, The Dismissal of Religious in Temporary l/o~vs, 104. 25Cf. O'Neill, op. cir., 103-104; Schaefer, op. cir., n. 1636; Wernz-Vidal De Religiosis, 490, note 13; Bastien, o~0. cir., n. 645, 4; Palombo, op. cir., n. 195; Tabera, op. cir., 14-1933-57; Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome luris Canonicl, I, n. 807. 291 JOSEPH F. GALLEN decrees the dismissal in the t~ormer case. The charitable subsidy is to be given to a religious woman who is provi~ionally sent back to secular lithe.2° SOME BOOKS RECEIVED [Only books sent directly to the Book Review Editor, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana, are included in our Reviews and Announcements. The following books were sent to St. Marys.] The 1957 National Catholic Almanac. Edited by Felician A. Foy, O.F.M. St. Anthony's Guild, Paterson, New Jersey. $2.00 (paper cover). Does God Exist? By Alfred M. Mazzei. Translated by Daisy Corinne Fornacca. Society of St. Paul, New York, N.Y. $3.50. St. Bernadette Speaks. By Albert Bessi~res, S.J. Translated by The Earl of Wicklow. Clonmore & Reynolds Ltd., 29 Kildare St., Dub-lin. 10/6. Queen of Heaven. By Ren~ Laurentin. Translated by Gordon Smith. Clonmore & Reynolds Ltd., 29 Kildare St., Dublin, 12/6. Le Ciel ou l'Enfer. II. l'Enfer. By Chanoine G. Panneton. Beau-chesne et ses Fils, Rue de Rennes, Paris. Methods of Prayer in the Directory of the Carmelite Reform of Touraine. By Kilian J, Healy, O. Carm. Institutum Carmelitanum, Via Sforza Pallavicini, 10, Rome. Some Philosophers on Education. Edited by Donald A. Gallagher. Marquette University Press, 1131 Wisconsin Ave., Milwaukee 3, Wis-consin. $2.50 (paper cover). Wellsprings of the Faith. By Most Reverend John C. McQuaid, D.D. Clonmore & Reynolds Ltd., 29 Kildare St., Dublin. 18/-. The Reluctant Abbess. By Margaret Trouncer. Sheed and Ward, 840 Broadway, New York 3, New York. $3.75. Quadalupe to Lourdes. "By Frances Parkinson Keyes. Catechetical Guild Educational Society, St. Paul 2, Minnesota. $0.50 (paper cover). The Mystery of My Future. By Jean De Larhove. Society of St. Paul, 2187 Victory Blvd., Staten Island 14, New York. $2.50. Of the Imitation of Christ. By Thomas a Kempis. Translated by Abbot Justin McCahn. The New American Library of World Literature, Inc., 501 Madison Ave., New York 22, New York. $0:50 (paper cover). The Caiholic Booklist 1957. Edited by Sister Mary Luella, O.P. Rosary College, River Forest, Illinois. $0.75 (paper cover). ¯ _,6 Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOt;S, September, 1956, 235-36. 292 Our Supernat:ural Organism Daniel J./~. Callahan, $.J. GOD IS THE author of all things. The more science ad-vances, the more does it disclose the wonders of His crea-tion. Even a superficial reading of a manual of biology or physics or chemistry or astronomy wrings from us the words of the Psalmist: "How great are thy works, O Lord. Thou hast made all things in wisdom; the earth is filled with thy riches" (Ps. 103:24 ). These divine masterpieces, especially as mani-fested in man, qualify us by analogy for the marvels of the supernatura! order. God gives life in the embryonic state and with it an or-ganism capable of developing the tiny creature into the pleni-tude of its specific perfection. The fundamental natural prin-ciple of this evolution is the vital principle within it, which energizes it and is the source of its least activity. Its separation from the bodily element would mean the termination of growth, deterioration, death. In us the human soul is the basic source of our natural life; its faculties or powers are the immediate cause of our vital activities and these in turn bring to perfec-tion our human life. To all this the supernatural is closely analogous as will appear from a brief study of the components of its organism. Sanctifying Grace Appropriately this may be styled the soul of the higher life in us. Only from divine revelation do we know its exis-tence and nature, and it will be useful to recall here what rev-elation tells us about this precious endowment. It is something most real; a spiritual quality inherent in our soul and of such an excellence'that only God could be its principal cause; it is a stable quality, an adornment abiding in the soul till forfeited through mortal sin; it is a totally free gift to which no one of us could lay claim and which transforms us into God:like 293 DANIEL J. M. (~ALLAHAN Review for Religious beings resembling our eternal Father and enabling us to share, in a finite manner, in His life. That life comprises the infinite contemplation;, love, and possession of His uncreated perfec-tion. To this no creature by its native powers could aspire. By a privilege entirely gratuitous God destines us for the immediate visiofi of Himself in heaven and adapts us ~or it through sanctifying grace. Attended by faith; hope, and charity such grace equips us to know, love, possess God, imperfectly, of course," as He knows, loves, and possesses Himself; and thus we enter into the divine life and become truly His children. And while this life is distinct from our natural life, it is not merely superimposed on the latter: it penetrates it through and through, elevating and transforming it. Leaving intact all the natural goodness that is ours, sanctifying grace imparts a new orientation to everything within us, establishes new relations to the Blessed Trinity, and inaugurates on earth the life of the blessed. To aid us in the apprehension of this prerogative, writers resort to many comparisons and illustrations. They liken the soul to a living image of the adorable Trinity., divinely impressed on the soul as the seal leaves its image on the wax, lavishing on it an entrancing beauty since the prototype and the artist is no other than God. Again such a soul is compared to a trans-parent body receiving the sun's rays and, all aglow" itself, radiating them in all directions; to a bar of steel plunged into a furnace and sharing the heat, brightness, and pliancy of the fire; to a branch engrafted into a plant, maintaining its identity while partaking of the life of the plant; to the union in us of soul and body where the soul quickens and energizes the body even as grace communicates a new life and effects our most intimate union with God. Finally, an analogy with the hypo-static union in Christ is introduced; and, though the soul's union with God is only accidental, yet it is the union of a substance with a substance; and, while the hypostatic union results in the God-man, the union through grace issues in a God-like being, 294 September, 1957 OUR SUPERNATURAL ORGANISM whose actions are performed at once by the Creator and His creature, even as in Christ His actions were shared in by both His divine and human nature. And though our union with God is neither hypostatic nor substantial in the proper sense, for we always retain our personality and the union is only accidental, it is not merely the intimacy of two friends, for it rests on a/physical quality abiding in the soul and on physical bonds intensifying and safeguarding that union. The three Divine Persons are immediately presefit to the soul in a com-pletely new way and are possessed and enjoyed by it. Though the precise nature of this extraordinary inhabitation continues to exercise theologians, we are assured that it is capable of indefinite expansion up to the last breath of life here below, and this in p.roportion to our surrender to the Holy Spirit through the removal of all barriers and the cultivation of the infused virtues and the gifts of the Holy Ghost. The Infused Virtues In the natural order our soul functions through its faculties or powers. It thinks through the intellect; .it loves through the will; it senses through our different senses. These faculties bestowed on us together with the soul, by means of their varied activities, are susceptible of tremendous development. In the supernatural order grace parallels the soul, and the infused virtues are its chief faculties. These emanate from sanctifying grace, elevate our mind and will, enable us to perform supernatural, meritorious deeds. Virtue may be described as a good habit designed for action. It is natural if it has been acquired through the repeti-tion of the same specific act and communicates facility in doing so; if directly granted by God and if it confers the ability to do something, it is called infused. The natural virtues facilitate nat-ural righte6usness; the infused confer the power to act on a superhuman level. These latter are usually divided into theologi-cal and moral. The former have God for their formal and principal material object; in the concrete they are faith, hope, and charity and unite the soul directly to God. The moral 295 DANIEL J. M. CALLAHAN Review for Religious virtues have for their objective some moral good distinct from God, serve to eliminate the hindrances to divine union and to stabilize it, and are commonly listed under the four cardinal vi£tues. The theological virtues certainly accompany sanctifying grace and integrate the process of justification, and it is the generally accepted doctrine that the moral virtues also are then bestowed. ¯ All of these virtues are susceptible of increment and 'do increase proportionally with the increase of grace, just as the branches of the tree ke~p pace with the expansion of the trunk. Apart from the complete loss of the virtue, may they diminish? In general, any activity that is discontinued or exercised bnly rarely tends to decline or even to cease. Venial sins, especially when frequent and deliberate, considerably impede the practice of virtue and thus diminish the facility previously attained. Neglect of actual graces may likewise occ~lsion the privation of such helps as notably conduce to acts of virtue and add vigor and polish to them. And though venial sins do not directly decrease or destroy the infused virtues, it remains true that such failings open the way for serious lapses and the destruction of th.e virtues. Do all grave sins deprive us of these? Faith is destroyed only through a mortal sin of infidelity, hope through the same and that of despair; charity and the infused moral virtues, through any mortal sin. Relative to the duration ot~ all such virtues, in the lost none of them persists; the theological remain in the souls in purgatory; in heaven there will be neither acts of faith nor of hope relative to God, and most probably not relative to objects distinct from Him. And whereas neither the moral virtues nor those of faith and hope will endure in the blessed, these will retain the virtue of charity and live a life of the purest actual love. The Gifts of the Holy Spirit There is unanimity among Catholic theologians about the existence of such gifts, but their specific nature is widely contro-verted. In accordance with the doctrine of St. Thomas (Summa, 296 September, ~957 OUR SUPERNATURAL ORGANISM I-II, q. 68, a. 3), the most prevalent opinion is that they are supernatural habits, distinct from the virtues, implanted in the soul conjointly with sanctifying grace, which impart a recep-tiveness, a docility to the impulse of the Holy Spirit, a more prompt and more generous cooperation with His grace. They would appear to be, at least in the early stages, not operative habits like the virtues, but rather dispositive, adjusting the soul for a better reaction to the divine intervention. Their func-tion, then, is that 0f perfecting the exercise of the virtues. There is no certainty about their number; and, while conferred simultaneously with grace, a more copious outpouring may be the fruit of the sacrament of confirmation. The docility issu-ing from these' gifts improves perceptibly through prayer for fidelity to grace, through a life of faith and recollection, through the cultivation of the moral virtues and due control over our passions, for unless these latter are consistently mortified, the inordinate attachments in the soul will hamper us in discerning, accepting, and responding to the inspirations of grace. We must combat the spirit of the world which is diametrically op-posed to the divine and school ourselves in prompt, magnani-mous compliance with God's will. The more complete our surrender' to Him, the more will He be pleased to enlighten and inflame us. Actual Grace just as in the natural order we cannot bring power into motion without the concurrence of the Almighty, so also in the supernatural. Such cooperation is known as actual grace to distinguish it from habitual grace previously considered. It is a transitory aid imparted by God, consisting in the illumina-tion of the mind and the urge of the will for the performance of a supernatural act. It sets the intellect and heart in motion and enables them to function on a superhuman level. In the concrete, it is a holy thought, a salutary incitement of the will, produced by God who directly influences our rational faculties, stimulating them to operate, and cooperating with them to 297 DANIEL J. M. CALLAHAN Review for Religious elicit a good thought and a salutary desire in keeping with the special need of the moment. The thought is most real and comes directly'from God; it is a holy thought, designed for the spiritual benefit of the individual. When we say "salutary desire," we understand any good act of the will, for instance, the love of good, hatred of evil, fear of divine punishment, sorrow for sin, joy 'in well-doing. It is a real act of the will. Antecedent to our activity God lovingly takes the initiative and continues to act within us and with. us for the accomplishment of a deed that will conduce to life eternal. This assistance is not permanent; it persists only while its purpose lasts; and it influences us in a moral way through attraction and persuasion and physically by adding energy to our intellectual faculties too weak to act of themselves. As religious we are to be profoundly penetrated with the conviction of our need of such divine assistance. It is necessary for the achievement of every supernatural act: for the prelim-inary acts of faith, hope, sorrow requisite for the remission of sin. The constant endeavor to resist temptations which assail even the just, as well as our steadfastness in good living, are the fruits of actual grace. Obviously, then, we have not the power to persevere in religion and even to reach perfection through our unaided strength. Christ's memorable words, "Without Me you can do nothing" (Jn. 15:6), are pertinent to the natural and supernatural levels. Everyone who attains the use of reason needs this grace and all such receive it. It proceeds from the love of God; the ordinary channels for its dispensation are the sacraments, prayer, and'our meritorious deeds; and the more generous our cooperation with grace received the more will be granted, for here, as in the entire economy of salvation, God takes the initiative, awaits our free reaction, and assures us that He will" bestow th~ necessary help for the completion of our project. Conformity to the divine will, consequent peace of soul, trust, and magnanimity are supremely important in the struggle for real sanctity. 298 September, 1957 OUR SUPERNATURAL ORGANISM Appreciation "If thou didst know the gift of God" (Jn. 4:19) spoke Jesus to the Samaritan woman, referring to the supernatural life which He communicates to us through His vivifying action, here compared to water springing from an unfailing source. Religious have totally consecrated themselves to God; to Him they belong entirely; and there must be in them the life that is His. In them the supernatural must always be dominant. It is a treasure to be courageously safeguarded even at the cost of sacrifice; it is an endowment to be zealously augmented; it is a life and life is essentially progressive. Cessation of growth soon induces recession. In the wake of tepidity and lethargy spiritual death follows closely. The law of spiritual gravity is to be counteracted through p.urity of intention at all times, through earnestness even in small affairs, through fervent, per-severing prayer, and through the frequent reception of the sacraments of penance and Holy Communion. "Walk in a manner worthy of the calling with whic'h you are called," wrote 'St. Paul to the Ephesians (4:1 ff.), "with all humility and meek-ness, with patience bearing with one another in love, careful to preserve the unity of the. spirit iri the bond of peace; one body and one 'Spirit . . . one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is above all and .throughout all and in all." Surely a relevant injunction for all religious. OUR CONTRIBUTORS BONAVENTURE BALSAM is engaged in parish work at St. Anthony's Priory, 4640 Canal Street, New Orleans, Louisiana. JOSEPH F. GALLEN is professor of canon law at Woodstock Col-lege, Woodstock, Maryland. DANIEL J. M. CALLAHAN is profes-sor of ascetical and mystical theology at Woodstock College, Wood-stock, Maryland. 299 Survey ot: Roman Documen!:s R. ~. Smil:h, S.J. IN THIS survey only those documents will be considered which appeared in the ./Iota/lpostolicae Sedis (AAS) during the months of April and May, 1957. Hence all page references throughout the survey are to AAS of 1957 (v. 49). The African Missions On Easter Sunday, April 21, 1957 (AAS, pp. 225-48),. the Holy Father issued a new encyclical letter which is entitled Fidei Donum (TheGift of Faith) and which treats of Africa and its missions. After noting that man'.s gratitude for the gift of faith is best shown by spreading the light of Christ's truth, His Holi-ness remarks that while he is not unaware of the grave and pressing problems attending the spread of the Faith in all parts of the world, yet special attention is needed in the case of Africa, for this continent now finds itself on the threshold of its political and cultural maturity and faced with circumstances the import-ance of which is rivaled by nothing in the previous history of /~frica'. The Vicar of Christ then begins the first of the four sections into which the encyclical letter is divided. This first section is devoted to an over-all picture of the missionary scene in Africa. Most of the countries of the continent, the Pope says, are in the midst of profound social, economic, and political changes which will have a lasting effect on the fut.ure lives of these nations. The Church which has seen the rise and growth of so many nations cannot but be intensely interested in the peoples of Africa who are now attaining their civil rights. It is at this point that the Holy Father exhorts the coloniz-ing nations to grant civil rights to peoples who are prepared for them; and at the same time he urges the colonial peoples of 300 ROMAN DOCUMENTS Africa to be grateful .for .~vhat they have received from the vari-ous countries of Europe. Only such a harmonious attitude will exclude prejudice and exaggerated nationalism and will permit the peoples of Africa to experience the entire range of benefits which flow from the religion of Christ. Pius XII is especially concerned that in many countries of Africa atheistic materialism has been spreading the seed of its doctrine, thereby arousing jealousy between nations, inducing false perspectives in the matter of temporal prosperity, and excit-ing to rebellion. The presence of this atheistic materialism in Africa, thinks the Pontiff, is particularly grave owing to the fact that the peoples of Africa, because they wish to accomplish in a few years what ~he peoples of Europe took centuries to achieve, are psychologically vulnerable to the specious .promises which materialism offers. The H01y Father continues by remarking that of all the missionary regions of the world, Africa is the one with the greatest needs. African mission posts which have been estab-lished in the last ten or twenty years cannot expect a sufficient number of native clergy for a long time, while the missionaries in such stations are few and widely scattered throughout large regions where, moreover, non-Catholic religions are also spread-ing their doctrines. The gravity of the situation can be illustrated by one region of Africa where there are 2,000,000 inhabitants but only 50 priests whose energies, moreover, are completely absorbed in the care of the 60,000 persons already converted to Catholicism. Twenty more missionaries in such regions at the present time would mean, the Vicar of Christ sadly comments, the spreading of the banner of the cross in places which twenty years from now will be impossible of access. Moreover, twenty more missionaries would mean that the Church could educate in such regions a corps of African Catholics equipped to meet the social and political needs of the continent. Nor are difficulties lacking in African missionary centers which have long been established. Such centers too feel the 301 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious extreme lack of missionaries. Moreover, the bishops and vicars apostolic of Africa are obliged to provide for their flocks a full Catholic life; and this necessitates in turn schools, colleges, social institutes, all the modern communication arts. Such needs can be met only by a great flow of material and apostolic help to the continent of Africa where 85,000,000 human beings are still attached to the practice of paganism. The Holy Father centers the second part of his encyclical around the theme that the problems of the Church in Africa are not merely local difficulties, but are of vital concern to the entire Mystical Body. Bishops, those preeminent members of the Mystical Body, should have a special concern for the Church in Africa, for they as the legitimate successors of the apostles retain the duty of preaching to all nations. Moreover, continues the Holy Father, there ig not a Catholic in the world who should not be interested in the problems of the Church in Africa. Nothing that is characteristic of the Church should be absent from the mental outlook of the individual Catholic. If then catholicity or universality is one of the characteristics of that Church which is the mother of all nations, breadth of outlook must also mark the individual Catholic. In the third part of the encyclical the Holy Father dis-cusses the means by which Catholics can aid the missions of Africa. ~The first means is that of continual and earnest prayer. The best prayer, of course, will be that which Chris~, our High Priest, daily offers on our altars. And while the faith-ful should be instructed that it is good to offer Mass for their private intentions, still they should also be taught to give atten-tion to those petitions with which the Mass is primarily and neces-sarily concerned and "which include the we~Ifare and propaga-tion of the entire Church. To prayer must be added alms or material help, for present needs far exceed the help now being given. The faithful in other parts of the world should compare their conditions with the 302 September', 1957 ROMAN DOCUMENTS situations of missionary countries and see who are the real need~i of the Church. Hence the Vicar of Christ urges that each Catholic make an examination of conscience to consider if there is not something tl~at can be given up in order that material aid might be given to the missions. The third way of helping Africa is through the fostering of vocations to missionary work.~ Bishops should train their flocks in such a way that there will always be members of that flock ready to heed the Lord's command i~ Genesis 12:1 to leave one's land and the house of one's father. Dioceses with a suffi-ciency of priests should give of their workers to the missions; and even dioceses which themselves suffer from a scarcity of priestly workers can still offer their mite as did the widow in the gospel story. The problem of missionary recruitment, however, can be met only by the ~oncerted work of all the bishops who should encourage the Missionary Union of the Clergy, foster the work of pontifical missionary associations, and be aware of the needs of those religious institutes which do missionary work but which cannot increase the number of their vocations without th~ under-standing assistance of the local ordinary. Finally, the Holy Father approves the practice of a diocese lending some of its priests to missions for a limited time. The fourth part' of the encyclical consists of a brief conclu-sion in which the Holy Father repeats that he is as interested in all the missions as he is in those of Africa. To all missionaries of the entire world he extends his gratitude and his congratula-tions and exhorts them to labor fervently in the work to which they have been called. Lenten and Easter Messages On March 5, 1957 (AAS, pp. 208,15), the Holy Father gave his usual Lenten allocution to the parish priests and Lenten preachers of Rome. The present year, begins the Holy Father, marks the fifth anniversary ot: the inauguration of the movement 303 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious "Fora Better World." After detailing the work accomplished in the diocese of Rome during that period and after noting the things yet to be done, His Holiness then urges his listeners to sow the seed that is the word of God. To preach anything but the word of God, he warns them, is to sow destruction. He gives special attention to the matter of Sunday preaching, insist-ing that nothing can achieve so much as this regular and familiar custom so long in use in the Church. Finally,. he recalls to his listeners the fact that the true sower of the good seed is God and that they are but instruments in His hand; what changes then would sweep the world if all who preached did so as ones truly coming with the power of God. The Holy Father's Easter message, delivered on April 21, 1957 (AAS pp. 276-80), was a meditative reflection on the phrase "O truly blessed night" of Holy Saturday's E, xultet. The night preceding the Resurrection, His Holiness begins, was one of desolation, tears, and darkness: Christ is dead; His flock is scattered; all is apparently in ruin. Nevertheless, even in that night there are signs of the dawn to come: the body of Christ suffers not the slightest taint of corruption and Mary prays in quiet confidence and expectation. That night before the Resurrection is also a symbol, adds the Vicar of Christ, of the night in which modern men find themselves: they must live in fear; their intelligences are cap-tured by error; immorality has reached a new depth. Neverthe-less, there are signs of a new day dawning. Science is provi-dentially multiplying the means to a fuller and freer life, while technology is providing the way to make these means available on a large scale. Moreover, men are now beginning to realize that the night of modern times is here because Christ has again been betrayed and crucified. Day will finally come to modern man when Christ restores grace to the individual soul and takes His rightful place in human social life. The Holy Father con-cludes his Easter message to mankind with a prayer that Christ may send the angel of the Resurrection to remove the obstacles 304 September, 1957 ROMAN DOCUMENTS which men have built up :but which they are now powerless to remove. To Hospital Sisters On April 24, 1957 (AAS, pp. 291-96), Pius XII spoke to some 2,000 Italian hospital sisters who had met for the first time in a national meeting to discuss their common problems. The Pontiff began with a forceful statement of the part that religious women play in the life of the Church today, remarking that many branches of the Church's apostolate, especially those concerned with education and with works of chariiy, would be inconceivable without the existence of religious sisters. This said, the Holy Father then began to discuss with them the ideals of their relig-ious life. It is.a truth of our faith, he notes, that virginity is higher than the married state; for through virginity the soul achieves an immediate relationship with God that is one of absolute and indissoluble love. The virginal soul takes everything that God has given her to be a wife and mother and offers it back to Him in a complete and perpetual holocaust. In order to love God, the vi,rginal soul does not reach Him through other loves: noth-ing is interposed between such a soul and God. Hence it is that a religious must be a true spouse of our Lord, uniquely, indissolubly, and intimately united with Him. Hospital sisters then must take care that their assistance to the sick does not interfere with their spirit of absolute and perpetual devotion to God, guarding against all disordered activity which leaves them neither time nor repose for prayer to Christ. They must also guard themselves against long and frequent withdrawals from common life, that strong protection of the interior life. And they must watch carefully over their spirit of individual and collective poverty, making certain that their hospitals do not assume the character of merely money-making organizations. Turning now to their work for the sick, the Vicar of Christ notes that the existence of special institutions for the care of the 305 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious sick stemmed historically from the charity of the Church. Even today, when so many are interested in the care of the suffering, the Church will never abandon her task of caring' for the sick, for no one can take the place of the Church at the side of one who besides a body also possesses a soul whose needs and claims are often greater than those of the body. It is for this reason that the Holy Father urges hospital sis-ters to continue their work. Besides being perfect religious, they must also know and use the latest scientific methods and ap-paratus. They must train themselves to a motherly kindness that is linked with a strong element of firmness. They must lead a fully dynamic life and still retain their calm and serenity. Here the Holy Father adds that superiors must see to it that community time-schedules and practices do not make the sisters' work ineffi-cient and more difficult. In conclusion the Holy Father dwells at some length on the recommendation that the sisters train themselves always to see Christ in each of their patients. If they do so, he notes, then it will be easy to pass from the chapel to the sick room; religious observance and care for the sick will not interfere one with the other; and there will be no interruption of the sisters' union with Christ. The Holy Father then blessed the assembled sisters and concluded ~ith a remark that all hospital sisters will treasure: "The Church, the Pope, are depending on you: on your complete dedication, on your abilities, and on your spirit of love." Miscellaneous Matters Under the date March 19, 1957 (AAS, pp. 176-77), the Holy Father issued the rnotu proprio Sacram Co~nmunionern in which he provided that henceforth local ordinaries (with the exception of vicars general) may permit daily celebration of after-noon Mass provided the spiritual good of a notable part of the faithful warrants such a permission. His Holiness also further mitigated the Eucharistic fast. The drinking of water does not 306 September, 1957 ROMAN DOCUMENTS break the fast'; and the time element for the Eucharistic fast is the following: Before the celebration of Mass in the case of priests and before the reception of Communion in the case of the faithful, solid food and alcoholic drink must be abstained from for three hours, while non-alcoholic drink must be abstained from for one hour. These time regulations extend both to morning and afternoon celebration of Mass and reception of Communion; and they must also be observed by those celebrating Mass at midnight or at the early hours of the morning as well as by those receiving Communion at such times. Finally, the Holy Father grants to the sick, even those not confined to bed, the .permission to take non-alcoholic drinks as well as liquid or solid medicine at any time before the celebration of Mass or the reception of Communion: Three documents of April and May of this year concerned the saints. The first of these is an apostolic letter of the Roman Pontiff which is dated June 8, 1956 (AAS, pp. 199-200), and which appoints St. Dominic Savio the patron of all choir boys. The other two documents are decrees of the Sacred Congre- - gation of Rites, both being dated January 22, 1957 (AAS, pp. 251-56). In the first of these decrees the congregation affirms the heroic virtue of the Venerable Servant of God Sister Mary Celine of the Presentation, professed nun of the Second Order of St. Francis (1878-97); the second decree affirms the heroic virtue of the Vdnerable Servant of God Sister Teresa of Jesus Journet Ibars, foundress of the Congregation of Little Sisters of the Indigent Aged (1843-97). Priests will be interested in the Holy Father's letter, dated March 25, 1957 (AAS, pp. 272-75), and sent to Cardinal Feltin of Paris on the.occasion of the 300th anniversary of the death of Jean-Jacques Olier, founder of the Society of St. Sulpice. - Olier, the Holy Father notes, recalls to the present generation the truth that the greatness and power of a priest consists in being a man of God and a man of ihe Church. As a man of God the priest must have two indispensable qualities: prayer 307 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious exercised especially through meditation and the Divine Office; and asceticism, manifested principally by a perfect chastity of heart and body. The priest then must always be aware that union with God is the indispensable prerequisite for apostolic fecundity and that the cross is the only instrument of salvation: evil is still cast out only by prayer and fasting. As a man of the Church, concludes the Holy Father, the priest must realize that all personal sanctity and apostolic effectiveness must be founded on constant and-exact obedience to the hierarchy. ¯ Several documents of the period surveyed are concerned in one way or another with matters educational and intellectual. On March 24, 1957 (AAS, pp. 281-87), the Holy Father addressed a group of 50,000 college students of Rome and gave them some detailed advice on their studies, urging them to dedicate them-selves completely to the pursuit of truth. A month later on April 25, 1957 (AAS, pp. 296-300), His Holiness spoke to the members of the eleventh plenary assembly of Pax Romana, telling them that no Catholic can be indifferent to the new world com-munity now in process of formation. This is especially true, he says, of Catholics engaged in intellectual work, for it is their task to spread Catholic truth and to give it practical application in all areas of human activity. Educational and intellectual matters also figure in two decrees issued by the Sacred Congregation of Seminaries and Universities. In the first of these decrees, dated-November 4, 1956 (AAS, pp. 219-20), provision is made for the canonical erection of a faculty of theology in Sophia University in Tokyo. In the other decree, dated December 20, 1956 (AAS, p. 308), . a faculty of philosophy was canonically erected in the Catholic University of Quito. Thre~ documents of April and May of this year pertain to political matters. On February 16, 1957 (AAS, pp. 201-5), a c-onvgntion was ratified betweeri the Holy See and the German Federal State of North-Rhine-Westphalia concerning the estab-lishment of a new diocese of Essen. On March 28, 1957 (AAS, 308 September, 1957 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS pp. 287-88), the Pontiff:addressed a group of young Berlin Catholics, telling them that the state must always respect the rights of individuals and of families and adding a plea for a united Europe and for the moral conditions without which such a union can never be realized. On Aprii 28, 1957 (AAS, pp. 300-301), the Pope gave a brief address on Communism, empha-sizing that the events of the last fdw months have clearly shown' to all men the aberrations of that way of life. Two other documents may be mentioned by way of conclud-ing this survey. On March 6, 1957 (AAS, pp. 215-17), the Holy Father sent a radio message to the school children of the United States exhorting them to be generous in contributing help for the needy children of other countries. And on Apri'l 23, 1957 (AAS, pp. 289-90), His Holiness spoke to a small group of Paris lawyers, extolling their° dignity as men devoted to the defense of law and of humanity and remarking that their profession is noteworthy as showing the value of humanism in a world where technical and scientific education is at a premium. Questions and Answers [The following answers are given by Father Joseph F. GaIlen, S.J., professor of canon law at Woodstock Coll~ge, Woodstock, Maryland.'] 29 Are the professed of temporary vows obliged by canon law to return to the motherhouse two months before perpetual profession, remain there, and prepare for this profession? No. You are applying to the professed of temporary vows what an instruction of the Sacred Congregation-of Religious, November 3, 1921, had commanded only for novices employed in the external works of a congregation during the second year of noviceship. The code does not even command a retreat before perpetual profession. The constitutions almost universally prescribe such a retreat, and the usual duration is eight full. days. A shorter retreat is also found, for" 309 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religioue example, five or six days. It seems evidvnt enough that the constitu-tions or customs should command a retreat before perpetual profession. It would also be reasonable and profitable to prescribe a longer period of greater recollection .before perpetual profession. REVIEW FOR RE-LIGIOUS, September, 1953, 267; November, 1955, 313. --30-- Hasn't the movement of renovation and adaptation suggested any new laws whatsoever concerning poverty? This movement is primarily spiritual, theological, educational, formative, and apostolic. It is only very secondarily canonical or legal. Therefore, in the matter of poverty the emphasis of the move-ment is on the striving for detachment that. leads to an intensified love of God (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, November, 1955, 302; September, 1956, 269-70). No new laws on poverty have been enacted by the Holy See, and no important suggestion for a new law has been made by authors with regard to the poverty of solemn profession. In the 'matter of the poverty of institutes of simple vows, suggestions have been.maple for inclusion in constitutions that are being origitxally approved or revised. The purpose of these suggestions is to make the poverty of simple p*ofession at least approach that of solemn profession. They are founded on the principle that in itself it is more in accord with evangelical poverty to give away one's property than to retain it for life and to be deprived or restricted in the right of acquiring property for oneself than to retain this right in an almost unlimited manner. The su.ggestions are thus reducible to two headings. 1. Right of acquisition. A limitation of the right of acquisition is according to the mind of the Sacred Congregation of Religious. In new or revised constitution~, congregations of men or women may in-clude an article of the following type: "After profession, whether of temporary or perpetual ~,ows, the religious acquire for themselves only property received as an inheritance or legacy from relatives to the second degree. All other temporal goods are acquired for the con-gregation." This practice may be followed only by institutes that have such a provision in their approved constitutions. An article of this nature would effect a purer poverty and would also eliminate some practical 310 September, 1957 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS difficulties and abuses. The meaning of relativ.es may be confined to blood relatives or extended also to relatives by marriage. The degrees would be computed according to canon law. 2. Giving away or renouncing one's property. New or revised con-stitutions of women may contain an ~rticle of the following type: "A professed sister, whether of temporary or perpetual vows, may not alienate the ownership of her property by a free gift effective during her lifetime. However, the professed of perpetual vows may (or, are counselled to) give all the property they own to the congregation under the form of a dowry." The similar article for institutes of men would be: "A professed religious, vShether of temporary or per-petual vows, may not alienate the ownership of his property by a free gift effective during his lifetime. However, the professed of perpetual vows may (or, are counselled toI give all the property they own to the congregation under the condition that the capital sum will be restored to them if they should leave or be dismissed." Either of the practices of the preceding paragraph, since they are not contrary to the code, may be ~ollowed even if not contained in the constitutions. The second sentence in Zither article may be introduced by an apt spiritual phrase, e. g., lCor their greater sancti-fication, for their greater poverty, for the greater purity of their evangelical poverty. There would be no difficulty also in applying either practice to the professed of temporary vows. In both cases the capital sum of the property will be restored to a religious who leaves, is excluded from further profession, or is dismissed. This fact would pro.tect the right of the religious to leave, if he wishes to do so, aad ,~iould also prevent want in the case of a departure, both of which constitute the purpose of the retention of property in congregations. Neither practice would prevent the religious from applying part or all of the income oa his property to other good purposes, e. g., to needy relatives, nor, with the permissioa of the Holy ~;ee, all or part of the capital sum of his personal property. However, it does not seem contrary to the mind of the Sacred Congregation for new or revised constitutions not merely to permit or counsel but to impose either practice with regard to all the personal property of a religious (REvIsw FOP, RELIGIOUS, September, 1953, 258-59; Escudero, /Iota et Documenta Congressus Generalis de Statib'us Per[ectionis, I, 377; Muzzarelli, ibid., 430-31). 311 ~UEsTIONS AND ~NSWERS ~31m What is the law for the last Gospel according to the simplified rubrics? The last Gospel is always that of St. John except in the third Mass on Christmas and low Masses on Palm Sunday at which the palms are not blessed. Cf. Bugnini-Bellocchio, De Rubricis ad Sira-pliciorem Formam Redi#endis, 69; Bugnini, The Simpli/ication of the Rubric, s, 113; J. B. O'Connell, Simpii[yin# the Rubrics, 71; The Cele-bration o[ Mass, 178. What Mass may be said on the Saturday of Our Lady (S. Maria in Sabbato)? The Mass of the Saturday of Our Lady; the Daily Mass of the Dead and any votive Mass that is not of the BlesSed Mother, but both of these, if low, are forbidden during the three periods of January 2-5; January 7-12; and Ascension-Vigil of Pentecost; and the Mass of an occurring simple feast or mere commemoration, e. g., on Jan-uary 5, 19; July 13, 27; August 3; September 28; October 5, 26 in the ordo of the Universal Church for 1957. As stated above, the only Mass of the Blessed Mother permitted is that of S. Maria in Sabbato. Cf. Wuest-Mullaney-Barry Matters Liturgical, n. 252. --33-- What should be done if a check in a small amount is received for your own personal, use? Endorse the check and drop it in the treasurer's box. The inten-tion of such a donor is certainly not that the religious should sin by using the money without permission. Neither are we to presume that a donor intends that the religious should make use of the gift in a way that is contrary to the greater perfection of the religious. Externs are fully conscious that the religious is in the state of perfection and that his life should be distinguished by renunciation and self-denial. They are readily scandalized at the lack of these qualities. If you have any material necessity, the more perfect time to ask for it is not on the occasion of receiving a gift. Cf. gEVlEW FOg gELIG~OUS, January, 1949, 39. 312 Book Reviews [Material for this department should be sent to Book Review Editor, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana.] THE ROMAN CATACOMBS AND THEIR MARTYRS. By Lud-wig Hertling, S.J., and Engelb~rt Kirschbaum, S.J. Translated from the German by M. Joseph Costelloe, S.J. Pp. 224. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee I. 1956. $3.50. It is a pleasure to ir~troduce this excellent hook to readers of the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. The subject is nowhere so well presented, to my knowledge, within the compass of one modest volume. It is com-petent; it is well ordered; it is readable; it is warm with the sympathies of the Christian tradition of culture. Archaeology, in all its branches, has a remarkable appeal to many people today, no doubt becauseit brings to them a new and vivid revelation.of the community of human nature with itself. The catacombs of Rome, with their touching expression of the pi.eties of our forefathers in the faith, reveal to Christians the communion of saints. A Catholic feels wonderfully at home in these ancient resting places of our dead. The authors are professors of ecclesiastical history and of achae-ology, respectively, in the Gregorian University and scholars of estab-lished authority in their fields. Father Kirschbaum was one of the four commissioned by Pius XII to investigate the reputed site, under the high altar of St. Peter's, of the apostolic tomb. A brief account of the results Of their quest is among the points of major interest in this book. Father Costelloe'meets with ease the two great exigencies of the translator's art, faithfulness to the thought of his author and to the idiom of his reader. A skilled initiate in Roman archaeology, he can write so clearly about these matters which he understands so well. With the praiseworthy permission of Fathers Hertling and Kirsch-baum, he has added his own notes to theirs and some quite new matter in the body of the book, known through the advance reports of explorations yet unpublished. By this positive contribution, he gives to English readers a welcome revision as well as a sound version of the original. 313 BOOK REVIEWS Review' for Religious The scope of the book may be indicated by running down the titles of the chapters: The Exploration of the Catacombs;. The Ceme-teries; The Tombs of the Popes; The Tombs of the Martyrs; The Tombs of the Apostles; The Persecutions; On the Way to Martyrdom; The Eucharist; Baptism; The People of God; The Art of the Cata-combs; The Creed of Catacombal Art. Forty-five plates and eight figures make an important complement to the text. By some fault of printing, twoor three of them, in my copy, are rough to the touch. Generally, the publisher has done 'a good job, and at a remarkably low price.--ED~;~,g R. SMOTH~P,S, S.J. FRANCIS OF THE CRUCIFIED. By Myles Schmitt, O.F.M.Cap. Pp. 152. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee 1. 1956. $3.00. Father Myles Schmitt, of St. Francis Capuchin College, Washing-ton, D. C., offers his readers a series of conference-chapters on the Franciscan way of perfection. Writers of general treatises on spiritual theology, such as Tanquerey and de Guibert, can present a .particular way of perfection only in skeletal form. Father Schmitt develops at suitable length the Franciscan way. At the same time, he is constantly concerned to relate it to the Christian way. For, at root, all Christian perfection is one, no matter the diversity of ways proposed for arriv-ing at it. In a way reminiscent of Gerald Vann's The Heart of Man, Father Schmitt organizes the life of perfection around the Beatitudes. His book is not as complete and detailed as Theodosius Foley's Spiritual Conferences for Religious Based on the Franciscan Ideal. Nor does it follow the life of St. Francis as closely as de Tour's Franciscan Perfection. But his choice of the Beatitudes as an organizing principle keeps the main line of argument simple, strong, and progressive and still gives him room enough to touch on a variety of subjects. Father Schmitt is especially good at describing the spiral move-merit of growth in perfection. Not only must ofie try to live more and more in accordance with his vision of the ideal; but, at the same time, one's vision must grow correspondingly in depth and p~netration. This spiral movement is particularly clear in St. Francis's religious life which began with what might be called an "inaugural vision" and grew as that vision' deepened and matured. Father Schmitt takes great pains .to delineate the initial vision of the Franciscan way, to map out 314 September, 1957 BOOK REVIEWS the s~ag'es of progress of that vis~ion, and to relate to it all growth in perfection. Basically, then, the Franciscan must focus his attention on the imitation of Christ crucified through a living out of the gospel life as envisaged by the Beatitudes. The foundation of this life is poverty leading to that poverty of personality called humility. Keeping before his eyes his nothingness in the presence of God, the~ Franciscan makes a sacrifice of himself and .thus fulfills simple justice. With mercy and simplicity, he takes on the role of peace-maker, courageous!y overcoming the opposition of a world set against Christ and at war ,with itself. His is a life of love, of devotion to the Eucharist, of love of Mary sorrowful. And oil such is his .vision, his necessary response will be apostolic action. Obviously the book's usefulness is not limited to Franciscans. Inasmuch as all the means proposed are the common heritage of Christi