Suchergebnisse

Uno dei problemi maggiori nello studio degli effetti dei cambiamenti climatici sulle popolazioni umane è senza dubbio il carattere fortemente multidisciplinare, che richiede un'analisi del fenomeno che incroci competenze e conoscenze che appartengono a diversi campi del sapere, come le scienze ambientali, per quanto riguarda i fattori scatenanti e le scienze sociali e giuridiche, per quanto riguarda le sue conseguenze. Alla luce di questi motivi il tema dei profughi climatici rappresenta un campo di ricerca interessante e ricco di molti spunti di riflessione, ma allo stesso tempo un'analisi complessa e non priva di una molteplicità di problemi epistemologici. Le principali difficoltà risiedono nella scarsità di documentazione e di letteratura sull'argomento. Nonostante non manchino gli studi ed i documenti prodotti dalle principali organizzazioni internazionali che si occupano di ambiente e migrazioni internazionali in tutte le forme e varianti, il mondo scientifico, e in modo particolare quello italiano, non sembra aver ancora preso seriamente in considerazione il tema delle migrazioni internazionali causate dal mutamento delle condizioni climatiche, sia per cause naturali che per il degrado dell'ambiente prodotto dall'inquinamento e da un uso distorto delle risorse terrestri. La complessità estrema del fenomeno pone una serie di interrogativi riguardo all'individuazione dei soggetti che possono essere ricondotti alla categoria suddetta e in merito alla possibilità di riconoscere una qualche forma di tutela giuridica internazionale a questa categoria di persone, per le quali, sul piano strettamente giuridico è ancora improprio l'utilizzo del termine 'rifugiati' per identificarli. Ad aumentare le difficoltà già elencate vi è poi la scarsa attenzione dimostrata sull'argomento dai paesi economicamente sviluppati in genere, ed in particolare i principali inquinatori, e la sempre crescente difficoltà da parte dell'occidente a rispondere ai problemi generati dai movimenti forzati di massa. Il mancato riconoscimento internazionale dei profughi climatici complica ulteriormente la questione. La Convenzione di Ginevra del 1951 sui rifugiati prevede che possa richiedere lo status di rifugiato chiunque si trovi "nel giustificato timore d'essere perseguitato per la sua razza, la sua religione, la sua cittadinanza, la sua appartenenza a un determinato gruppo sociale o le sue opinioni politiche, si trova fuori dello Stato di cui possiede la cittadinanza e non può o, per tale timore, non vuole domandare la protezione di detto Stato" definizione che non lascia spazio alle cause ambientali come fattore di spinta degli spostamenti di popolazione. Il termine 'rifugiato ambientale', accettato orami a livello internazionale nel linguaggio comune, appare quindi improprio alla luce di questa considerazione e all'interno della comunità scientifica mondiale non è stato ancora sciolto il nodo di una definizione più propria soprattutto per la difficoltà di stabilire un legame diretto tra fattori ambientali e diversi casi di migrazioni internazionali massive. D'altra parte il termine "refugee" ha antica origine e diffusa circolazione: il fatto che dal 1951 implichi uno status non crea monopoli linguistici. Si può convenzionalmente accettare il suo utilizzo disciplinare critico e il suo utilizzo istituzionale limitato allo status connesso. Il suo significato resta sinonimo di "displaced", migrante forzato o costretto, con le sole specificazioni istituzionali dell'aver superato il confine e delle costrizioni previste dalla Convenzione nel 1951. L'aggettivo "environmental" non aiuta la definizione delle migrazioni e soprattutto non aiuta a chiarire la loro dimensione forzata. Rifugiato si, ma non "ambientale". La difficoltà forse sta proprio nel sostantivo, ambiente, che ha troppi usi e sinonimi nell'insostenibile sviluppo in cui siamo immersi. Le ricerche multidisciplinari sul fenomeno migratorio devono molto rivalutare la dimensione "ambientale" delle migrazioni. Le espressioni "environmental refugee" o "environmental migrants" o "environmental displaced people" possono essere utilizzate per sottolineare o distinguere la spinta a migrare connessa alle varie forme di inquinamento e di degrado ambientale, per le quali il riconoscimento scientifico della costrizione non è certo e il margine di libera scelta dei momenti e delle modalità è parzialmente maggiore. L'espressione "displaced people" diventa quella descrittiva di ogni migrazione forzata, qualunque sia lo Stato entro cui avviene o quanti e quali che siano gli Stati interessati. L'aggettivo "environmental" può invece risultare ridondante o superfluo, non classifica; meglio chiarire quale contesto geografico o climatico e quale specifica contestuale ragione socio ambientale. Serve uno strumento legale ONU dedicato al riconoscimento, alla prevenzione mirata, alla protezione e all'assistenza di profughi climatici. Sulla via del riconoscimento internazionale dei rifugiati climatici si frappone inoltre il timore di compromettere la sensibilità che già è stata acquisita nei confronti dei rifugiati tradizionali e il timore da parte di governi ed istituzioni di trovarsi in difficoltà nel mettere in atto misure di protezione e di reinserimento dei rifugiati provenienti da zone degradate e dovendo provvedere al loro sostentamento economico. Già nel 1999, con la pubblicazione del libro Environmental Exodus: An Emergent Crisis in the Global Arena , Norman Myers, professore di economia ambientale e consulente per le Nazioni Unite, metteva il luce le difficoltà incontrate dalla comunità scientifica mondiale sulla via di una definizione sia del fenomeno, sia del livello di tutela giuridica internazionale che dovrebbe essere riservata a questa categoria di persone. In particolare, per quanto riguarda la definizione, egli pone l'accento sulla necessità di soffermarsi sulla differenza tra " persone in condizioni modeste ma tollerabili in patria che cercano altrove la possibilità di una vita in condizioni economiche migliori" e quelle persone che migrano perché sono "spinte da fattori di base del degrado ambientale" condizione che appare come la caratteristica principale per definire il concetto di rifugiato ambientale. Sono stati proposti numerosi termini alternativi per classificare i rifugiati ambientali, tra cui "persone sfollate per motivi ambientali" e "emigranti costretti da motivi ambientali", che pur essendo precisi risultano assai meno efficaci e, in effetti, sono quasi ridondanti. Altri suggerimenti spaziano da "eco-migranti" e "eco-evacuati" a "eco-vittime"; però i primi due termini non connotano l'idea di migrazione coatta, mentre l'ultimo non suggerisce affatto l'emigrazione. Ad ogni modo queste persone, comunque le si voglia designare, sono un'ampia componente fra tutti gli altri rifugiati e, entro la prossima metà del secolo, potrebbero addirittura superare di varie volte il numero degli altri rifugiati. Myers propone quindi la seguente definizione: "I rifugiati ambientali sono persone che non possono più garantirsi mezzi sicuri di sostentamento nelle loro terre di origine principalmente a causa di fattori ambientali di portata inconsueta". Questi fattori comprendono siccità, desertificazione, deforestazione, erosione del suolo e altre forme di degrado del suolo; deficit di risorse come, ad esempio, quelle idriche; declino di habitat urbani a causa di massiccio sovraccarico dei sistemi; problemi emergenti quali il cambiamento climatico, specialmente il riscaldamento globale; disastri naturali quali cicloni, tempeste e alluvioni, e anche terremoti, con impatti aggravati da errati o mancati interventi dell'uomo. Possono concorrere fattori aggiuntivi che inaspriscono i problemi ambientali e che spesso, in parte, derivano da problemi ambientali: crescita demografica, povertà diffusa, fame e malattie pandemiche. Altri fattori ancora comprendono carenze delle politiche di sviluppo e dei sistemi di governo che 'marginalizzano' le persone in senso economico, politico, sociale e legale. In determinate circostanze, alcuni fattori possono fungere da 'scatenanti immediati' della migrazione, per esempio colossali incidenti industriali e costruzioni di dighe smisurate. Molti di questi fattori possono agire in concomitanza, spesso con effetti cumulativi. Di fronte ai problemi ambientali, le persone coinvolte ritengono di non avere alternative alla ricerca di sostentamento altrove, sia all'interno del loro paese che in altri paesi, sia su base semipermanente che su base permanente. Non c'è alcun motivo di pensare che chi fugge da condizioni di privazione estrema in conseguenza di collassi ambientali su vasta scala abbia una più attenuata percezione della propria marginalità sociale e una disperazione minore rispetto a chi fugge da oppressioni politiche o religiose. Non sta forse anch'egli cercando la stessa forma di sicurezza nel senso più definitivo del termine, ossia una sicurezza in grado di farlo sentire nuovamente accettato dalla società, in qualche luogo? Per decenni la scena è stata dominata dalle categorie di rifugiati che definiamo "convenzionali", ma ora è giunto il momento di abbandonare formule e definizioni che si rivelano troppo restrittive. Di fronte ai mutamenti che avvengono nel mondo reale non dovrebbero cambiare allo stesso modo anche le nostre categorizzazioni? Alla fine di questo primo approccio a ciò che si connota come un vero e proprio esodo ambientale, siamo già in grado di formulare una considerazione fondamentale: è necessario agire sui sintomi, prima che il problema inizi a causare effetti collaterali cui sarà tremendamente più difficile porre rimedio. Di diversa opinione appare invece il rapporto sul tema pubblicato dall' Organizzazione Internazionale per le Migrazioni, che sottolinea l'importanza di non utilizzare il termine rifugiati per indicare categorie di persone diverse da quelle previste nella Convenzione di Ginevra. A livello italiano, si è parlato del fenomeno in relazione della mancata tutela giuridica di coloro che sono costretti ad emigrare per questo genere di cause e possono essere quindi oggetto di provvedimenti di espulsione, e nel caso dell'Italia del possibile trattenimento nei Centri di Identificazione ed Espulsione che precedono il rimpatrio. E' certo che storicamente vi è sempre stata una qualche correlazione tra cambiamenti climatici, disastri naturali, modificazioni del clima e flussi migratori, ma molti sono convinti che il deterioramento dell'ambiente prodotto dal cambiamento climatico porrà negli anni a venire il tema del 'rifugiato' climatico al centro dell'attenzione dell'opinione pubblica e degli organismi internazionali. Questo è un elemento di novità che in relazione alla rapidità con la quale si sta evolvendo il processo di cambiamento climatico, rende un fenomeno millenario ricco di spunti di ricerca, di riflessione e di azione mirata. Le vittime delle conseguenze del surriscaldamento sono una categoria di migranti ancora sconosciuta ai più, priva di uno statuto ufficiale, ma destinata a crescere rapidamente. E a pagarne lo scotto ancora una volta sono i paesi più poveri ed in primis le zone costiere e le isole del Sud-est asiatico, in particolare il Bangladesh come vedremo, così come le aree in via di desertificazione dell'Africa sub sahariana. Senza più casa, costretti ad abbandonare la propria terra perché a rischio o perché modificata nella struttura e composizione, stravolta dai processi di desertificazione, stress idrico o innalzamento del livello del mare, e in attesa di futuro incerto fatto di piani di trasferimento e re-insediamento. La nuova ferita apertasi sulla pelle di questo millennio allarma e fa discutere, per poi scivolare nuovamente nel dimenticatoio mediatico, assecondato da un'opinione pubblica oramai sempre più immune al dramma del disastro. Si vuole quindi invitare alla presa di coscienza e alla riflessione non solo sul disastro ecologico irrefrenabile ma anche sulle conseguenze che lo stesso sta provocando e quindi su possibili riconoscimenti e nuove possibilità di sopravvivenza per queste persone al fine di permettere loro una vita sicura e dignitosa.

A todos les habrá llamado la atención el asesinato de Bin Laden y sobre todo su cobertura mediática. El suceso ya empieza a tener consecuencias politicas dudosas, por ejemplo con el pseudo-debate "pragmático" sobre la tortura. Reitero, esto, a mi juicio, es totalmente nefasto y gravisimo para la vida pública norteamericana(1).Pero hagamos un ejercicio: un breve paralelo entre la cobertura y el procedimiento entre la muerte del Che Guevara y la muerte de Bin Laden. ¿No llama la atención el cambio de paradigma?Lo primero que salta a la vista es que paradójicamente el mundo de hoy es mucho más un hibrido "goebbelsiano" de lo que pensamos: digo hibrido porque en el mundo de la propaganda 'totalitaria' la imagen va siempre acompañada de su comentario ideológico (lo que 'hay que pensar'). Pero las dos son totalmente centrales. Nosotros en cambio tenemos un dispositivo diferente: a la neutralidad de los medios libres le agregamos los subtítulos nosotros mismos. La "muerte" de Bin Laden, me parece, está totalmente re-creada por un aspecto central: no hay cuerpo, no hay captura (es decir, no se lo ve), y tampoco hay un juicio (es decir, un proceso de justicia, como en Nuremberg). Solo tenemos. un relato y la construcción de un "discurso" en torno a indicios y a "versiones" (que van cambiando día a día), y, también, de recomposiciones de imágenes. Esto recuerda profundamente el procedimiento que en el teatro clásico se llama 'catársis'. Para Aristóteles, en la Poética, el teatro es el único arte que construye una relación afectiva a partir del conflicto (al cual uno asiste en el drama). Esta relación afectiva se apoya fundamentalmente en la identificación (hacia uno o algunos de los personajes). Por lo general, los personajes son seres opuestos (el bueno/el malo, el noble/el vil, etc.). El drama consiste en crear una tensión que "culmina" con una resolución. Así, por ejemplo, "la muerte del malo" después de que este amenaza con imponer un orden injusto, nos tranquiliza y hasta alegra. Esto es lo que él llama "catarsis": una palabra que quiere decir algo así como "liberación" o "explosión de sentimientos". Me llama personalmente mucho la atención esto, porque con respecto a la muerte del Che (también está la captura y la muerte de Saddam Hussein que es un poco diferente y que se podría analizar), se trata de otro modelo. La muerte del Che fue un proceso marcado por la verificación. La autentificación del cadáver era atestada por las fotos, la anécdota de las manos cortadas, etc. En este caso la muerte fue expuesta como victoria a través de la imagen. El proceso era enteramente diferente, y fue lo que hizo conducir involuntariamente a la fabricación, creo yo, de un nuevo "ícono" (cercano a la figura del cristo)(2). En el caso de Bin Laden, es como si se hubieran dicho : hacer un nuevo ícono, "that's out of question". La única manera de dar forma a la muerte de Bin Laden en un contexto de guerra de imágenes es integrarla y rehacerla en un relato (su muerte es únicamente un relato), y la fábrica de relatos más corriente, más a mano, más útil, más perfecta, hoy en día, es la cinematográfica (me refiero en términos de "matriz"). Por eso, precisamente, funciona tan bien: porque "mataron al malo", y ahí vemos a la gente que sale a la calle y festeja, etc. Insisto: la liberación de emociones de la cual hablaba Aristóteles la vemos funcionar perfectamente (por supuesto no lo digo por Bin Laden, un personaje siniestro, un asesino atroz y alguien que encarna lo peor del llamado 'islam político')(3). Uno de los centros del debate en torno a la muerte de Bin Laden, por un lado, me parece precisamente que la vida pública, sobre todo la democrática, esta fundada en el rechazo y la puesta a distancia de estas emociones. Aunque nos alegremos de la 'muerte del malo', ya conocemos los efectos de estas emociones en la vida pulbica: ¿como reaccionaríamos si una muchedumbre viniera a proponernos asistir al linchamiento de un criminal particularmente atroz? Cambiar la cuerda por el tiro en la cabeza es solo cambiar una forma y persistir en la misma situación. Oigo que el asesinato de Bin Laden toca a la esfera de la razón de Estado, y que "no hay que pedirle peras al olmo". Precisamente porque se trata de una acción tal es porque está totalmente marcada por la voluntad política. Creo que es la elección que hizo el equipo Obama la que hay que condenar.Hay un texto muy interesante del filosofo alemán Ernst Cassirer sobre este tema en el ultimo libro que publicó antes de morir, The Myth of the State (El mito del Estado). Allí, Cassirer trata de explicar porqué lo nazis jugaron estratégicamente sobre esta "liberación de las emociones" y sobre la idea que la política tiene que funcionar como una experiencia colectiva (la mobilización de masas) que se apoya en la 'liberación' de estas emociones reprimidas por la lo que llamariamos 'moral convencional' (los psicoanalistas dirían "pulsiones" y Freud hablo bastante de este proceso de construcción de la sociedad como conjunto de normas interiorizadas relativas a estas emociones). Para Cassirer, esto también tiene un sentido con respecto a la historia de la filosofía, porque él lo ve como una tendencia, una lucha interna a la filosofía, un combate para definir la política a partir de o entre las categorías de "mito" y de "razón" (una distinción que viene de Platón). En resumen: a partir de Maquiavelo, hay un proceso intelectual para racionalizar la actividad política, para sacarla del "mito" (es decir, también de la religión). Este proceso es particularmente fuerte en las Revoluciones del siglo XVIII, donde la búsqueda del "fundamento racional" de la autoridad, de los derechos inalienables etc… fue uno de los focos más importantes de debate político, intelectual y jurídico. Cassirer afirma que los nazis reivindican el mito como instrumento de movilización total, es decir, como una representación, pero que no tiene nada que ver con la idea de verdad, o con una explicación construida de la realidad. El mito, en cambio (palabra, imagen o 'discursos'), si sirve para nombrarla y transformarla, y trabaja a partir de las formas de pertenencia a una comunidad, que determina el 'ellos' versus el 'nosotros'. Y aquí volvemos al segundo punto central. Creo, como lo dije antes, que todo esto es profundamente nefasto para la vida pública norteamericana, es decir, en buena medida, y aunque no nos guste, para nosotros también. Antes que nada porque consagra en términos simbólicos, y totalmente, la herencia de Bush. No solamente el estilo de un strong power imperial a la romana con acento de cow-boy y pistola, con sus nuevas conquistas, sus nuevos "crucificados" -el destino de los vencidos de las guerras romanas- y sus nuevos esclavos. También consagra la dicotomía "con nosotros/contra nosotros", que en este caso funciona de manera perfecta: si uno no se alegra de la muerte de Bin Laden, entonces ¿por quién "hincha"? La "muerte" de Bin Laden, no huelga repetirlo, legitima totalmente… al asesinato político como 'técnica' política ("en defensa de la democracia") y ademas, desprestigia a la esfera del derecho internacional. El mensaje es totalmente diferente si la historia se resuelve con un balazo en la cabeza puesto por un marine de la tropa de comando, que si se hace en un juicio público donde la catarsis es hablada y teatralizada, y las cosas se maduran en el tiempo. Las víctimas (vemos aquí lo poco que importan) ven y escuchan, y el juicio se transforma en una confrontación política. Sin embargo esto supone que a Bin Laden también se lo deje hablar. Y si Ben Laden habla, la historia de la figura política de éste ultimo es menos simple que lo que los medios de comunicación norteamericanos han estado diciendo. Comentando esta ultima opinión, me he encontrado con gente que contesta que de todas maneras "los estados matan". Es verdad, y estamos frente a un caso más de raison d'état, sin embargo, no estamos hablando de cualquier 'muerto' y la manera en que la informacion circula es antes que nada un hecho politico. Y, exactamente como con el terrorismo, todo es una cuestión de 'mensajes'.Mi idea es esta: había que juzgar a Bin Laden como autor intelectual de los atentados, de la misma manera que se juzgó en su momento a Göring, Bornmann e inclusive a Eichmann. No estoy haciendo un paralelo de Bin Laden con los nazis como figuras políticas, sino como ejemplos de procesos de juicio político a un mal, considerado supremo. El tema central de esta historia no es quién era el malo, sino qué valores uno defiende cuando esta "en lucha". Para volver a Nuremberg: el juicio mismo fue de hecho una negociación (los rusos optaban por "la bala en la cabeza").Uno de los mensajes más importantes que el asesinato de Bin Laden hace circular es que el derecho internacional es un estorbo para la Realpolitik. El otro, acaso más inquietante, aunque no el menos cinematografico, es que los problemas políticos sí se arreglan con un balazo en la cabeza.Con esta respuesta (el balazo en la cabeza y una "fiestita pa´ amenizar"), nos acercamos demasiado al modelo inconsciente de nuestra historia americana Aquí, donde, bajo ciertas apariencias, todo se arreglaba a los balazos y reviviendo el fundamental acto de nacimiento americano: una gran masacre. Una historia "of sound and fury", como bien lo retomó Faulkner. El lapsus más enorme de toda esta historia me parece el nombre de código de la operación: "operación Geronimo". Como en una réplica de westerns, el estado norteamericano, a través de su propia memoria, nos sigue incansablemente repitiendo que "un buen indio es un indio muerto".(1) Ver por ejemplo esta discusión sobre los argumentos del equipo Bush y de sus defensores a favor de la tortura en el New York Timeshttp://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/04/us/politics/04torture.html?hp(2) Compárese las fotos del cadáver del Che muerto con el célebre fresco de Mantegna, Cristo muerto en el sepulcro (circa 1480), conservado actualmente en la Pinacoteca de Brera, Milan. Ver: http://www.brera.beniculturali.it/Page/t04/view_html?idp=141(3) Sin embargo, este producto (el llamado "islamismo") esta íntimamente ligado a la estrategia de la guerra fria. Otro capítulo del cual no lograremos saber gran cosa con el asesinado Bin Laden.Profesor del Instituto de Estudios Políticos de París. PhD en filosofía política.

Authors' IntroductionSimilar to race, class, and gender, the body is an important signifier that shapes identity, social processes, and life outcomes. In our article, we examine the individual and institutional rewards conferred upon physically attractive individuals and the social stigma and discrimination experienced by the less physically attractive. This body hierarchy is tied in part to the performance of beauty work, including attempts to transform and/or manipulate one's hair, make‐up, and body shape or size. We explore these beauty work practices, highlight the gendered nature of this body hierarchy, and situate these practices in debates about agency and cultural structure. Are beauty conformists 'cultural dopes' who buy into an oppressive patriarchal beauty culture that creates docile bodies? Or, are these individuals 'savvy cultural negotiators' who participate in beauty work practices to reap material and psychological rewards?Authors recommendsBordo, Susan. 2003. Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture & the Body. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.A series of essays that examine Western body culture, including media images, weight loss practices, reproduction, psychology, medicine, and eating disorders. In her analysis, Bordo adopts a postmodern feminist interpretation, problematizing the female body as a cultural construct.Davis, Kathy. 1991. 'Remaking the She‐Devil: A Critical Look at Feminist Approaches to Beauty'. Hypatia, 6, 21–43.Drawing on interviews with Dutch cosmetic surgery patients, Davis examines how women account for their decisions to participate in cosmetic surgery and how they view it in light of surgery outcomes. She argues that women actively pursue cosmetic surgery for instrumental reasons including regaining control of their lives, feeling normal, and/or righting the wrong of an ongoing suffering.Dellinger, Kirsten and Christine L. Williams. 1997. 'Makeup at Work: Negotiating Appearance Rules in the Workplace'. Gender & Society, 11, 151–77.Dellinger and Williams analyze in‐depth interviews to understand the reasons why women do – or do not – wear makeup in the workplace. Women are negatively sanctioned when they do not wear makeup (e.g. they are questioned about their health or heterosexuality) and are positively rewarded when they do wear makeup (e.g. they are seen as more credible, feel more confident, etc.). The authors argue that such practices ultimately reinforce inequality between women and men, but that individual resistance strategies are unlikely to be successful given the institutional and structural constraints faced by women.Gagné, Patricia and Deanna McGaughey. 2002. 'Designing Women: Cultural Hegemony and the Exercise of Power Among Women Who have Undergone Elective Mammoplasty'. Gender & Society, 16, 814–438.The authors address two feminist perspectives on cosmetic surgery using interviews with women who have undergone elective mammoplasty. One perspective suggests that women who elect cosmetic surgery are victims of false consciousness whose bodies are disciplined by a male gaze. A second perspective centralizes women's agency; surgery enables women to achieve greater power and control over their lives. They propose a grounded theoretical synthesis, maintaining that surgery can be empowering at an individual level, but can also reinforce hegemonic ideals that oppress women as a group.Gimlin, Debra L. 2002. Body Work: Beauty and Self‐Image in American Culture. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.Gimlin examines four sites of body work – the beauty salon, aerobics classes, a plastic surgery clinic, and a fat acceptance organization. Relying on ethnographic and interview data, she discusses women's body transformation efforts and how they negotiate the relationship between body and self.Lovejoy, Meg. 2001. 'Disturbances in the Social Body: Differences in Body Image and Eating Problems among African American and White Women'. Gender & Society, 15, 239–61.Lovejoy reviews several perspectives on racial/ethnic differences in body image and eating disorders including: (1) a psychometric perspective that focuses on attitudinal and perceptual body image; (2) white feminist perspectives that focus on social control and changing gender roles; and (3) black feminist perspectives that claim obesity is a problem for black women, see eating as a mechanism to cope with oppression, and acknowledge black women's susceptibility to eating disorders. According to Lovejoy, black women's positive body satisfaction can be explained through an alternative beauty aesthetic and the cultural construction of femininity in black communities.Pope, Harrison G., Jr., Katharine A. Phillips and Roberto Olivardia. 2000. The Adonis Complex: The Secret Crisis of Male Body Obsession. New York: The Free Press.In contrast to the many works that focus on women, these authors discuss appearance stereotypes and appearance work related to men and masculinity. While more journalistic than academic in tone (and quality of research design), the authors draw on surveys, interviews, and archival documents to argue that women's entrance into previously masculine arenas (e.g. male‐dominated occupations) has led to a sort of 'threatened masculinity.' As a result, men use their bodies to demonstrate masculinity (e.g. increased musculature) – often through unhealthy behaviors and practices, including steroid use and eating disorders.Weitz, Rose. 2001. 'Women and Their Hair: Seeking Power through Resistance and Accommodation'. Gender & Society, 15, 667–86.Based on in‐depth interviews with women, Weitz shows how women use their hair (style, length, color, etc.) to conform to, resist, and negotiate hegemonic beauty norms, thereby gaining – or losing – personal and professional power and other advantages. Weitz's article is particularly useful for illuminating how personal advantages can belie group advantages as well as the limitations of the agency versus docile bodies argument.West, Candace and Don H. Zimmerman. 1987. 'Doing Gender'. Gender & Society, 1, 125–51.This article introduces the idea of gender as an accomplishment or a performance. Femininity and masculinity, the authors argue, do not automatically follow from biological sex. Rather, males and females perform gender in their daily routines and interactions with others. We 'do gender,' for example, through our appearance, behaviors, speech patterns, etc.Wolf, Naomi. 1991. The Beauty Myth: How Images of Beauty are Used Against Women. New York: Harper Collins.This book explores the relationship between unattainable beauty ideals and women's social advancement. Examining issues including work, culture, religion, sex, and hunger, Wolf argues that despite increased advancement in the public sphere, women's self‐esteem and equality are stymied by the beauty myth and an obsession with body perfection.Online materialsAbout Face! http://www.about‐face.org/ About Face is an organization whose mission is to equip women and girls with tools to understand and resist harmful media messages that affect their self‐esteem and body image. Website contains images of positive and negative advertisements (along with discussion questions and company contact information), further reading suggestions, and links to other organizations dealing with either body image or media literacy.Adios Barbie http://www.adiosbarbie.com/ A website devoted to creating awareness about disempowering cultural messages about bodies, encouraging positive body image, and taking an active role in creating unique versions of beauty and identity.Jean Kilbourne http://www.jeankilbourne.com/lectures.html Jean Kilbourne is an author and lecturer whose works focuses extensively on the depiction of women in advertising. Her website includes recourses for change and postings from organizations with opportunities for individuals to get involved in activities/events that challenge destructive media images. The 'Film & Video' link also includes films on advertising and western beauty culture.Lauren Greenfield http://www.laurengreenfield.com/ Lauren Greenfield is a photographer whose images capture, among other things, the toll of beauty stereotypes and beauty work on women of all ages. Particularly relevant are Greenfield's collections titled Girl Culture and Thin. The website includes photographic images, short films, links to Greenfield's books and films, and further resources, including readings for teens, activists, and educators (including an extensive discussion/exercise guide for Girl Culture).Love Your Body Day Campaign (National Organization of Women) http://loveyourbody.nowfoundation.org/ Website for NOW's annual body‐image campaign that began in 1998. Includes activism resources (primarily for college campuses), including a Powerpoint presentation with images and text about how commercial images (with a focus on advertising) affect both women and men ('Sex, Stereotypes and Beauty: The ABCs and Ds of Commercial Images of Women'). Newsweek, Lifetime Spending on Beauty http://www.newsweek.com/id/187758 Interactive graphic, 'The Beauty Breakdown', shows the average cost that women in various age groups spend on beauty products and services. Graphic also includes links on the right‐side menu to other Newsweek articles and photo essays related to beauty work.Sample SyllabusWe encourage use of this article in various Sociology, Gender and Women's Studies, and Cultural Studies courses including Introduction to Sociology, Sociology of Gender, and the Sociology of Body.Focus Questions

In what ways does your level of physical attractiveness affect how others treat you? How does your race and gender shape your response? Consider various contexts including school, work, gym, church, etc., and how social context might affect social treatment.
What are some individual and institutional rewards conferred upon physically attractive individuals? How are physically unattractive individuals stigmatized and treated differently? Why do you think individuals make assumptions and treat people differently based on physical attractiveness?
What are some common forms of beauty work practices? Do you engage in any of these practices? Why? Why do you think others engage in these practices? How do practices and consequences differ by gender? By race? By sexual orientation?
How is beauty work a gendered double standard? That is, how do beauty work 'obligations' differ for women and men? Also, what are some contradictions women face when they perform beauty work? In other words, what are some of the costs to performing – as well as not performing – beauty work?
What, if any, forms of resistance are an effective means of social change? Do 'alternative' appearances, i.e., body piercings, scarring, or tattoos, or advertising campaigns such as the Dove Real Body campaign constitute resistance to beauty ideals that promote social change? How might different strands of feminist thought envision social change?

Seminar/Project IdeasReading Assignment: Beauty AssumptionsSelect photos of both conventionally attractive and unattractive men and women from various racial and ethnic backgrounds. Select these photos in pairs, varying preferably all but the level of physical beauty, e.g. attractive white woman versus unattractive white woman, attractive black man versus unattractive black man. If possible, use 'before and after' makeover photos. Before students read the assigned article, ask them to rate the person depicted in each photo on various personality characteristics. Use semantic differential scales and pairs such as happy‐sad, beautiful‐ugly, intelligent‐unintelligent, healthy‐unhealthy, honest‐dishonest, friendly‐unfriendly, etc. After students have read the article, revisit their responses. Are there any patterns of assumed characteristics based on level of physical attractiveness? How does race and/or gender affect responses? Use this exercise to transition into a discussion of the article.Journal Assignment: Media and Our Beauty CultureAsk students to examine critically and document observations about the beauty culture that surrounds them. In a week, students should pay special attention to what they see on television. In terms of physical attractiveness, who is depicted on television? Moreover, how do depictions vary by physical attractiveness? What roles do physically attractive individuals play? How are they depicted? Conversely, what roles and portrayals are associated with less physically attractive individuals? Would they see similar depictions in other media such as film, magazines, and the internet? In their write‐up, students should also discuss the social meanings and significance of these television depictions. For example, do they think these portrayals affect their views of beauty, their assumptions about others, and how they treat others?

Dra. Andrea Díaz Genis (presentación oral) Primero, debo agradecer a Sirio la deferencia de habernos invitado a comentar su libro, todo un trayecto de vida, donde se integra recuerdos de su vida más íntima y familiar, con su trayectoria política y su pensamiento filosófico-social. Debo decir, que me sentí muy atraída por la historia, un joven de 16 años que comienza su vida política siendo militante del MLN, en un país convulsionado, que posteriormente inicia un largo periplo como exiliado político, en Chile, Cuba, para terminar finalmente en Bélgica. Que comienza a estudiar filosofía y lingüística y culmina su doctorado en Filosofía trabajando sobre el pensamiento de Vaz Ferreira. Que posteriormente unifica sus intereses por la "liberación latinoamericana" con su inclusión crítica a la filosofía de la liberación en su versión dusseliana, complementándola con aportes de la ética comunicativa Apel-Habermas, los aportes a la filosofía de lenguaje sobre todo de Austin y su propia interpretación del marxismo-leninismo, enriquecido desde una perspectiva que el da en llamar "ecocomunitarismo". Una carrera política, una búsqueda emancipatoria que se corona en Brasil con una actividad práctica en pro de esta ecología entendida en un sentido profundo de transformación social que respeta y armoniza con el entorno natural y que intenta generar una nueva visión del modo que tenemos de entender lo humano más integrada y más integral. Dicho esto, podemos decir que hasta la forma que tiene Sirio de contar su propia historia, está a su vez penetrada por un discurso moderno, dialéctico, dialógico y emancipatorio. Su propia vida, según como él mismo la cuenta, pasa por diversas etapas en un intento creciente de lucidez, y de emancipación personal. Obviamente que está contada desde la superación, desde una etapa madura que es conciente de sus propias insuficiencias, sobre todo de esta primera etapa juvenil. Llama poderosamente la atención y es sumamente interesante el proceso que da cuenta de un muchacho que milita en este movimiento y que se convierte en un proceso largo de maduración en un pensador con una propuesta propia. Llama la atención, digo, porque de un movimiento, que él mismo muestra, desde su madurez crítica actual, como una organización hiperpragmática, donde no había tiempo de discutir las cosas, de meditarlas, pensarlas, sale un filósofo, pero esto sí, un filósofo ligado al pensamiento latinoamericano y radicalmente interesado en la emancipación de América Latina (parece ser, si se me permite, que en este sentido las organización radicales, aunque sean de izquierda, tienen un "parecido de familia" con las órdenes religiosas y militares, en lo que hace al mandar-obedecer, al disciplinamiento). Habría que ver cuántos de estos casos ha dado el Uruguay y el mundo. Ocurre también en el terreno eclesiástico, muchas veces la militancia religiosa, cuando no subsume por completo, genera sus grandes críticos, que toda su vida se dedican con afán a desenredar los mismos nudos que la propia religión les ha creado. Es evidente que a Sirio lo conquistó la idea de aventura (hace muchas alusiones en el libro a Don Quijote o a lo quijotesco del emprendimiento), el compromiso político, la idea de utopía, había una tarea urgente que hacer, había que transformar el mundo. Partiendo de la superación de las falsas oposiciones que nos enseñaba Vaz Ferreira, y parafraseando la undécima tesis sobre Feuerbach, después de su militancia en el MLN, Sirio se dedica no sólo a transformar el mundo sino a pensarlo para transfomarlo (no es que el proceso de pensamiento no estuviera antes, sino que quizás emergió con más fuerza, a partir de su propia resistencia a ser sólo praxis). Con las herramientas de que ya disponía y habían influido fuertemente en su juventud: la utopía emancipatoria, el ideal del marxismo de "a cada uno según sus necesidades y capacidades", se lanzó a pensar. Este tema quisiera meditarlo más en otra oportunidad, me gustaría que abundar un poco más Sirio, sobre el mecanismo que se produce en algunas personas, cuando el pragmatismo de la urgencia (por decirlo de alguna manera), del actuar y no pensar, la estructuración rígida de lo bueno y lo malo, puede tener el efecto contrario, puede dar que pensar aun más, puede generar una resistencia a esa negación del pensamiento y dar lugar a un desarrollo reflexivo que intente "justificar" un modo de actuar, un modo de vida, que arriesgó tantas vidas. Otra cosa interesante, es que Sirio defiende en su vida la posibilidad de seguir creando puentes entre la filosofía y la transformación de la realidad, presente precisamente en la tradición marxista, en la filosofía de Nuestra América, y en los procesos de liberación que el sigue manteniendo en pie en su pensamiento. A lo largo de su libro-vida, muestra estos intentos de llevar a la práctica una filosofía propia que autodenomina ecocumunitarismo. Hay algunos elementos sobre los que me gustaría cuestionar o preguntarle: 1-¿Cómo congenia Sirio esa apuesta por el pensamiento, por la reflexión -con un alcance global, ecológico, armónico con el ambiente- con la justificación de la violencia, que de alguna manera sigue sosteniendo, aunque en forma más débil que en sus tiempos de juventud 2-¿No piensa, que por ese camino, estaría dándole otra vez la espalda a una sociedad que no quiere o no busca los cambios a través de ese tipo de prácticas? 3-Por otra parte, ¿no son ese tipo de prácticas violentas, las que llevan posteriormente a la justificación de la violencia muchísimo más potente de otras fuerzas en pugna? 4-Toda su justificación de la ética y la importancia que le da en ella a la argumentación (aunque no me gusta que la resuelva en tan sólo 3 principios…) ¿no es contradictoria con el uso de la violencia? (sabemos que también el pensamiento argumentativo puede constituirse una forma solapada de conquistar el poder o más bien de sustentarlo, de la que supongo que el ecocomunitarismo estará prevenido). En definitiva, para la ética comunicativa de la que parte, si se argumenta, no se es violento. En síntesis, no me queda claro cómo Sirio armoniza estos diferentes modos de ejercer una transformación de la realidad: a través de la filosofía y la argumentación, el trabajo social y la lucha armada, si es que la sigue defendiendo, aunque en menor medida, y con menor impacto que antes. Termino con una frase de Kant ".el obstáculo más grande de la moralidad, que es la guerra, que constantemente se opone al avance de la humanidad, que en primer lugar (la guerra) se torne más humana, luego cada vez menos frecuente y por último llegue a ser abatida completamente como guerra agresiva" De alguna manera, y olvidando por un momento este aspecto, su visión filosófica del mundo es coherente y amplia (con su visión ecológica), con la matriz desde donde surgió su práctica revolucionaria. Hoy en día, con más canas, y quizás no con menos radicalismo, aunque si con más posibilidades y más libertades, puede ver que revolución y reforma no tienen por qué se contradictorios, como no lo es tampoco la transformación de la sociedad en relación al pensamiento. Esa combinación de vida y pensamiento, entregada a un ideal, que al menos se trasunta en su propia visión de sí mismo relatada en el libro, lo coloca en una posición hipercrítica con respecto al momento presente político, una lucidez que muestra no dejarse conquistar tan fácilmente por las propuestas que hoy día dicen ser de izquierda, pero que en realidad pueden resultar formas más perversas de ejercer solapadamente el neoliberalismo, en pro de ajustarse pragmáticamente a lo que se puede, y renunciar de esa forma a la utopía. Creo que su biografía trasciende a su persona, que tiene un interés social y no solamente anecdótico, que hay que atender especialmente a esas críticas que hace, para mí más que lúcidas, del momento político presente, que se lo permite, el acercamiento y a la vez la distancia de una persona que ha vivido, recorrido mucho mundo, y que hoy se encuentra mirando el Uruguay desde su vida en el Brasil, el des-centramiento de su recorrida, nos ayuda paradojalmente a centrarnos, su extrañeza-cercanía a apropiarnos de otra visión acerca de nosotros mismos. Hay una mitad del libro que trata más de su militancia política de juventud en el MLN y sus diversos exilios, y otra mitad, más de reflexión filosófica-política. Confieso que me conquista más la primera. Uno siempre lee desde sus propias experiencias-lecturas- reflexiones. A mí como persona, más o menos joven, criada en dictadura, que si tuviera que escribir un libro como el de Siro, hubiese escrito "Alias -algún nombre- Diario desideologizado de una generación", para mí, decía, casi es un testimonio de un "animal fabuloso" -con todos mis respetos del caso-. Lo que más me asombra, es leer la autobiografía de una persona, y con él de toda una generación, que jugó todas las cartas de su propia existencia y con ella la de los otros, la de toda una sociedad, en pos de una convicción (basada, claro está, en una lectura ideológica, política, filosófica de la realidad), que creían indubitable. Pertenezco a una generación nihilista, de exiliados económicos y no políticos (la pregunta vital que estamos obligados a hacernos es: ¿me quedo o me voy?), aunque apuesto personalmente no por un nihilismo reaccionario, sino activo, que no termine ni el suicidio ni el desesperación, pero tampoco en la justificación racional-utópica de un más allá inexistente. A un sector de la sociedad, que "atiende" un discurso o una propuesta, en todo caso, si plantea una mejora para nuestra situación personal o de nuestros seres queridos, o para los más generosos, de nuestro comunidad; en el aquí y ahora, y concretamente. De alguna manera, a pesar del nihilismo, individualismo o más bien, personalismo (no en el sentido filosófico del término), y descreencia en la política, en los políticos, y las utopías, hay algo en común con la propuesta de Sirio (para mí, un ateo que sigue siendo religioso): si en algo hay que creer es en lo que la gente puede hacer por ella misma, directamente, y sin representaciones y apostamos a ello. Para finalizar, y a modo de conclusión provisoria, el libro, tiene un valor social, cultural e histórico muy importante. En estas luchas por la historia que presenciamos en el presente, por apoderarse de una visión, es de sobremanera importante, la historia contada por sus protagonistas (e insustituible). Celebro esa posibilidad de esa otra mirada. Ya se sabe que cuando más ojos miren la "realidad", más posibilidad tenemos de verla mejor.

�쓽�븰怨�/諛뺤궗 ; [�븳湲�] [�쁺臾�] In 1962 the Korean economic growth rate was 2.6%, as compared to an estimated 3% population increase. In recognition of this fact that gains in improving our standard of living were being offset by concrrent gains in population growth, the national government included family planning in its Five Year Plan, and set the goals of reducing the rate of population growth to 2.5% by 1966 and to 2.0% by 1971. Along with such a national family planning program, the Department of Preventive Medicine, Yonsei University, College of Medicine initiated a pilot study of family planning in rural Korea, Koyang in order to demonstrate the possibilities of reducing the community birth rate by introducing simple and feasible contraceptive methods into a predominantly rural population The experiences and findings gained in this Koyang study, which were reported elsewhere by Yang, Bang and Kim, provideda guideline to help determine the basic factors on which to develop the national family planning program. However, in spite of the rapid and far reaching spread of the national family planning program and the considerable amount of budget and personnel resources used in 1962-1964, there had been no baseline data to assess the efficiency and effectiveness of the program. In order to obtain such essential data, a nationwide sample survey was conducted as a joint and cooperative effort of the Yonsei University, Planned Parenthood Federation of Korea, Ministry of Health and Social Affairs and Economic Planning Board in April 1964 by which to assess the current status of family planning and to provide some basic data to measure its effectiveness for the on-going program in family planning. Purpose of the Study In the present paper, utilizing the survey data from the national sample, the author has undertaken a study to measure what extent the family planning program has spread in Korea in terms of know-ledge, attitude, and practice of the family planning and to analyze how such family planning variables are related to socio-cultural backgrounds of Korean couples. The Data and Method of Analysis All our data are from interviews with Korean married women in the child bearing years (15-50) and interviewed in 1964. In sampling design, multiple stratified random sampling with l/l,000 sampling fraction was applied, and 4,867 households (equivalent to 1% of inhabitants in Korea in 1964) were sampled. From among those sampled households, 4,008 wives and 3,966 husbands were interviewed. Only 3,805 households were considered to be eligible for the purpose of our study as we limited the study to the households in which one or more married women under 50 years of age are currently living with their husbands. Thus, in this survey 4,708 wives and 3,966 husbands were interviewed from April 15 to 23, 1964,by 180 enumerators of Economic Planning Board to whom a two-day training was given by the Yonsei University. The questionnaires designed by the Department includes 19 questions relevant to knowledge, attitude and practice in family planning, fertility and socio-cultural background of the respondents as shown in the attached. In analysis, we deal with two groups of variables-one related to family planning, and the other to the socio-cultural background of the respondents. Family planning variables (as dependent variables)include; knowledge of contraceptive methods, attitude toward family planning and number of children, and practice of contraception, Socio-cultural variables (as independent variables)are limited to age, education and occupation, residence, and number of living children. In the tabulation, both dependent and independent variables were first tabulated, then, we cross tabulated both variables in order to see how the dependent variables are affected by each class of the independent variables. Findings A. Knowledge of family planning 1. 71% of wives and 97% of husbands had heard of the word "family planning" and the rate were higher among young couples aged under 39 than that aged over 40. 2. 51% of wives and 62% of husbands knew of contraceptive methods such as condom, sterilization, foam tablet, rhythm method and coitus interruptus. This contraceptive knowledge was known t?67% of city and 46% of women in the rural county. 3. The media through which they had heard of contraceptive method were acquaintances, magazines, health centers, lecture meetings, National Reconstruction Movement workers, physicians and drug-stores in that order But there were remarkable differences between urban and rural areas. In the counties, the order of media from which they had heard of contraceptive method was health center, radio, acquaintances, magazines, lectures, National Reconstruction Movement workers, physicians and drugstores while in cities this knowledge was through acquaintances, radio, magazines, newspapers, physicians, health centers, lectures, National Reconstruction Movement workers and drug-stores. B. Attitude toward family Planning 1. Ideal number of children Their ideal number of children (I.N.C.) averaged 4.1 (2.5 sons and 1.6 daughters) and there was little difference between husband and wife, excluding those who had never thought of such an ideal number of children. But the number differed largely by the age of respondents. Wives under 34 and husbands under39 wished 2 sons and 1 daughter as their ideal number of children while those over 35 in wive sand in husbands over 40 were 3.2 as their I.N.C. The ideal number of children varied noticeably by the occupation of the respondent. The rural respondents wanted 4.2 children (2.6 sons and 1.6 daughters) while in the city respondents wanted 3.7 (2.3 sons and 1.4 daughters). 2. Attitude toward contraception 44.4% of wives and 45.1% of husbands wanted to practice contraception. Among those who disagreed to practice contraception, 60% of them wanted more children,24% disagreed due to their old age, 2% had had sterilizing operations. Less than 1% of the respondents were' against contraception due to religious and ethical reasons. Wives in the age group 30-39 wanted to practice contraception in the highest percentage(61%). Only 42% of wives residing in rural areas wanted to practice contraception while in cities 53% wanted to. The women who had 4 or 5 children wanted most to practice contraception. It was found that approval of contraception for spacing of children was considered good by 11% of women who had no children, 23% of women who had 1 child, 35% of women who had 2 children and 45% of women who had 3 children. C. Practice of contraception 1. Rate of practicing contraception Among 4,008 respondents (wife), 9% or 364 women were practicing contraception, 3% or 115 women had ever practiced contraception and 39% or 1,951 women had never practiced even though they knew of one or more contraceptive methods. The responses of husbands were about the same as those of the wives. The percentage of current users by age was highest in the 30-35 (13.5%) and next in the 20-29 age group (8%). In urban areas 19% of the interviewed women were practicing contraception while in rural area only 6% were practicing. 2. Kind of method practicing The common contraceptive methods used were foam tablet (2i%), rhythm method (23%), condom (22%). Other methods were jelly (9%), douche (6%), coitus interruptus (5%),sterilization operation (2%), diaphragm (2%), and others (3%). There was small difference by age and by residence. D. Fertility 1. Number of live-births The average number of live-births of the Questioned women so far delivered was 4.15 (4.06 in urban, 4.18 in rural). The average number of live-births by age was 4.24 in the 30-34 age group and 6.46 in the 45-49 age group. And those by duration of marriage were 3.8 children in the 10-14years group, 5.0 in 15-19 years group, 6.1 in 20-24, 6.8 in 25-29, 7.0 in the group of 30 years or older respectively. 2. Current pregnancy The number of women who were definitely pregnant at the time of the survey was 354 or8.8% and those who were doubtful of pregnancy was 151 or 3.8%. 3. Induced abortion 93% of women had never had an induced abortion. The average number of induced abortions in those who had had an induced abortion was 1.6 per woman. Among those who were 30-39age group, 9.7% had had an induced abortion as the highest percentage. Of those who had had 15-19 years of marital life, 10.6% had had one or more induced abortion, indicating the highest percentage. 15.5% of the women residing in urban areas have ever had an abortion, and the rate was higher than that of the rural woman which was 4.1%. 4. Sterility 7.2% of total number of respondents (wife) were sterile. Among those 1.3% had primary sterility and 5.9% had secondary sterility. Summary In order to evaluate the national family planning program in Korea, 4,008 wives and 3,956 husbands were interviewed from April 15 to 23, 1964. In the present paper, the author has analyzed such a survey data to measure what extent the family planning program has spread in Korea in terms of knowledge, attitude and practice of the family planning and to analyze how such family planning variables are related to socio-cultural backgrounds7f Korean couples. A brief summary of findings are follows: 1. This survey proved that a large number of people has been exposed to the information and education services of the family planning program, and high proportion of couples has been informed about the word of family planning as well as the methods of contraception. 2. A strong consensus existed in all strata of the society that a moderate number of children is desirable. The husbands and wives wanted three, four, or five children-preferably with at least two sons. There was little indication of desire for the very large family 3. Under current mortality conditions, however, most couples were having the children they wanted by the time they were in their thirties. 4. An overwhelming majority approved the idea of family planning and favored some type of family limitation. The major objection to family planning lies in the age old affection for large families, and not necessarily due to religion or a cede of ethics 5. Therefore, to control the excess births, same were having induced abortion but a sizable minority had tried some form of family planning. 6. As might be expected, this analysis proved that the modern strata with lowest ideal number of children and most practice of family planning were identified as the most literate and educated, those with the least farm background, those employed in the modern economic sector. 7. It was also clear that the demand for and interest in family planning were not limited to an elite modern group. The farmers and the illiterates, for example, wanted about the same thing with respect to family size, but they seemed to need information and services to move them to action. Thus, these findings helped to shape the form and scope of the national family planning program in giving the first priority to help those who wanted to limit family size and to reach the less advanced strata. Finally, this analysis of the survey data should help not only in evaluating the ongoing national family planning program but also in making plans for target populations in the next stages of the program in family planning. ; restriction

Issue 41.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1982. ; REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1982 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $17.00 ~'or two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor May/June, 1982 Volume 41 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph ~. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from RE~:IEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Laborem Exercens: Themes and Theses Robert F. Morneau Bishop Morneau has commented in this s~me format on two earlier encyclicals: Redemptor Hominis (March, 1980) and Dives in Misericordia (September, 1981). Together with his service as Auxiliary Bishop of Green Bay, Bishop Morneau also serves through the Ministry to Priests Program where he may be addressed: 1016 N. Broadway: De Pere, Wl 54115. Several years ago Studs Terkel published a series of masterfully conducted interviews under the title of Working. People from various fields of life reflected candidly on the meaning or lack of meaning that work had in their lives. What fascinates the reader is the blatant honesty of'those interviewed; they told it the way they experienced it. With deep feeling and perceptive observation, the work-ing people revealed the movement~ of their mind and heart. On September 14, 1981, Pope John Paul II shared his third encyclical letter, Laborem Exercens, with the world. This papal document focuses on the topic of work, that human activity at once so universally experienced and yet so frequently devoid of meaning. What Terkel did on the experiential level, the Holy Father does on the reflective level. We do not find personal interviews with the rank and file but, from a scriptural and faith point of view, a description of the theological underpinning of our obligation to work. Within this perspective he discusses many questions: the nature and meaning of work; the relationship of work to the person, family and society; how work is influenced by various ideologies; the duty and rights of the worker; a spirituality of work. Rather than delineate detailed and specific policies, the encyclical is concerned with articulating certain principles and guidelines to govern the formation of policy for specific situations. When these principles are adequately and properly applied, work helps to build up the world community and becomes a means of safeguarding the humanity of all. These reflections of the Holy Father are extremely relevant. In an age when technology can so easily control the course of history we must hear over and over 322/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 again the principle that people have primacy ox)er things. In a period of history that takes for granted exploitation and manipulation as acceptable life-styles, we must have confirmation that persons are ends and not means. In our rapidly moving century that gives low priority to quiet and reflective times, it is healthy to have our attention drawn to an awareness of the importance of rest within the spirituality of work. Written on the ninetieth anniversary of Leo XlIl's Rerum Novarum, this present encyclical continues to remind us of the importance of these social questions and the function that the Church plays in their solution in public life. Theme 1: The Meaning and Dignity of Work Thesis: Work is an active process by which creative and productive persons gain dominion over the earth and achieve fullness as human beings. Understood as a process whereby man and the human race subdue the earth, work corres-ponds to this basic biblical concept only when throughout the process man manifests himself and confirms himself as the one who "dominates" (6). Work is a good thing for man--a good thing for his humanity--because throughout work man not only transforms nature, adapting it to his own needs, but he also achieves fulfillment as a human being and indeed, in a sense, becomes ~more a human being" (9). Man must work, both because th~ Creator has commanded it and because of his humanity. which requires work in order to be maintained and developed. Man must work out of regard for others, especially his own family, but also for the society he belongs to. the country of which he is a member, since he is the heir to the work of generations and at the same time a sharer in building the future of those who will come after him in the succession of history (16). The farmer gazes out on newly acquired property and perceives the rocks, tree stumps and weeds; a year later that same farmer, after much labor, rejoices in an autumn harvest of grain. The artist sits before a small mound of clay: many hours later a finely crafted vessel receives the accolades of admiring friends. The steel worker feeds the furnace kno.wing that when the final product is completed, beams of steel will be available for buildings and bridges. The human person, taking the many resources of the world, fashions them into useful and beautiful objects in the meeting of human needs. This process, both creative and productive, brings order out of chaos. The newly won unity fills the human spirit with a sense of meaning, peace and joy. A radical call to all of us is the call to become human persons. Within that universal vocation work plays a necessary and significant part. Only when we thoughtfully expend the energy given to us do we develop our potential and actualize our gifts. Work and growth demand that we participate in this venture of becoming human. Gifts unemployed atrophy. Needs unmet cause suffering. Lack of human development means boredom and despair. Emerson knew the value of work and its effect on human growth: I hear, therefore, with joy whatever'is beginning to be said of dignity and necessity of labor to every citizen. There is virtue yet in the hoe and the spade; for learned as well as for the Laborem Exercens: Themes and Theses / 323 unlearned hands.* This labor must be balanced and rational, respecting individuals and allowing for personal fulfillment. History provides evidence that when certain forms of work do not have these qualities human beings are dehumanized and even destroyed. In his perceptive' and challenging philosophical treatise, Leisure, the Basis of Culture, the neo-Thomist Josef Pieper describes "workism" as an attitude and ideology that disregards the essential natureof work. Pieper's argument is that work is meaningful only when the human person's dignity is fully appreciated and when the activity of work is complemented by a certain receptivity towards life which is called contemplation. The present encyclical also protects this balance and perspective. Theme 2: The Subjective and Objective Dimensions of Work Thesis: The subjective dimension of work (the dignity of the human person)always has priority over the objective dimension (productivity). The very process of "subduing the earth," that is to say work. is marked in the course of history, and especially in recent centuries; by an immense development of technological means. This is an advantageous and positive phenomenon, on condition that the objective dimension of work does not gain the upper hand over the subjective dimension, depriving man of his dignity and inalienable rights or reducing them (10). ¯. man's dominion over the earth is achieved in and by means of work. There thus emerges the meaning of work in an objective sense, which finds expression in the various epochs of culture and civilization. Man dominates the earth by the very fact of domesticating animals, rearing them and obtaining from them food and clothing he needs, arid by the fact of being able to extract various natural resources from the earth and the seas (5). As a person, man is therefore the subject of work. As a person he works, he performs various actions belonging to the work process: independently of their objective content, these actions must all serve to realize his humanity, to fulfill the calling to be a person that ig'his by reason of his very humanity (6). Work always involves a person, a process and a product. The language of the encyclical refers to the person as the subject of Work (the subjective dimension) while the product is the object of work (the objective dimension). This distinction is important: a product does not have interiority, nor is it a center of thought and love. On the other hand, the human person is spiritual, immortal and called to fullness of life in God. The process of work can take such a direction so as to make a person play the role of a mere tool (cog in the machine). The focus is on productivity. Such a procedure, used in the work world dehumanizes the person and negates the Christian meaning of work. Unfortunately, hi~tory records too many years of such abuse. The Holy Father's analysis of work contains an implicit anthropology, one ~'The American Scholar," in The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson. ed. Brooks Atkinson (New York: The Modern Library, 1940), p. 55. ~124 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 that has the highest regard for the fullness of human life. Every person has both an inner and outer agenda. Meister Eckhart describes it this way: There are people who squander the strength of their souls in the ouiward man. These are the people, all of whose desires and thoughts turn on transient goods, since they are unaware of the inner person. Sometimes a good man robs his outward person of all the soul's agents, in o'rder to dispatch them on some higher enterprise; so. conversely animal people rob the inner person of the soul's agents and assign them to the outward man. A man may be ever so active outwardly and still leave the inner man unmoved and passive.-~ Both the outer and inner dimensions of work need protection and a sensitive balance. Each has its own unique value. If they are not integrated, a person either "sells his soul to the company store" or falls into a type of narcissism which destroys communal responsibility. Persons have dignity which must not be denied; the work process must be respected as part of God's plan; human life is impossible without those products which meet essential needs. Proper priority and balance in reference to the subjective and objective dimen-sions of work are maintained when reverence is present amongpeople. Only when we stand in awe of every person, only when we hold sacred the gifts of air, water and land, only when we carefully consider the inner dynamism and value of the creative process will we truly appreciate work. Goethe reminds us: "The shudder of ,awe is humanity's highest faculty." This papal docume.nt contains that "shudder of awe.'" Whenever we encounter the handiwork of God, human or otherwise, we bow before the Creator's reflection. The person, the imago Dei, the creative pro-cess and end product of our work demand appropriate respect. Theme 3: The Value Scale of Work Thesis: Work involves three spheres of values: 1)a personal value bringing dignity to the individual; 2) a family value forming the foundation of communal life; and 3) a societal value enriching the common good. It (workJ is not only good in the sense that it is useful or something to enjoy; it is also good as being someth!ng worthy, that is to say, something that corresponds to man's dignity, that expresses this dignity and increases it. If one wishes to define more clearly the ethical meaning of work. it is this truth that one must particularly keep in mind Work constitutes a foundation for the formation of family life. which is a natural right and something that man is called to . In a way, work is a condition for making it possible to found a family, since the family requires the means of subsistence which man normally gains through work. Work and industriousness also influence the whole process of education in the family, for the very reason that everyone "becomes a human being" through, among other things, work. and becoming a human being is precisely the main purpose of the whole process of education (10). ¯. it (society) is also a great historical and social incarnation of the work of all generations. All of this brings it about that man combines his deepest human identity with membership of a nation, and intends his work also to increase the common good developed together with his '-Meister Eckhart, trans. Raymond B. Blakncy (Ne~' York: Harper Torchbooks). p. 87. Laborem Exercens: Themes and Theses compatriots, thus realizing that in this way work serves to add to the heritage of the whole human family, of all the people living in the world (10). The valuing process determines life. Values lead to an internal judgment which in turn dictates actions. The degree of worth we assign to individuals and things has far-reaching consequences. Within the complex va.luing system, work plays a major role since it touches personal lives, family life, and even national and international communities. The value assigned to work in these three areas will affect, for good or ill, the course of history. Family life remains a pivotal force in society, That life is threatened by an increasing number of divorces, the current mobility and the impact of the mass media. Unemployment is another threat which can lead to "social disaster" (18). Further, inadequate wages deprive the family of essential goods; lack of proper benefits increase anxiety; dissatisfaction with one's job has an impact on spouse and children. Work has a wider circle than just family life--it influences all of society. When people are given proper.job opportunities the common good is served and society is healthy. When work fosters a sense of cooperation among employees and employers, a new spirit of solidarity is felt in the wide? society. When work is done so that future generations will be served and helped by conserving our resources and protecting our, environment, society ,is being given responsible models. We have reached a point where this type of social consciousness can no longer remain merely a hope; if it does not become a fact, our society may well be doomed. Few people can grow interiorly without a sense of achievement. When work is done well, confidence and a sense of self-worth increase. Further, in fulfilling the commandment of God that we do work, we contribute to God's plan. The brick we add has eternal significance; no one else can do the work assigned to us. A prayer attributed to Cardinal Newman conveys the importance and the enigma of each person's work: ~ God has created me to do him some definite service: he has committed some work to me which he has not committed to another. I have my mission--I may never know it in this life. but I shall be told it in the next. 1 am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good, I shall do his work. I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place while not intending it--if I do but keep his commandments. Therefore 1 will trust him. Whatever. wherever I am. I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve him: in perplexity, my perplexity may serve him: if I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve him. He does nothing in vain. He knows what he is about. He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers. He may hide my future from me--still he knows what he is about. Theme 4: Work and the Mystery of Creation Thesis: Work is inextricably bound up with the mystery of God's creative activity: each person shares in the wonder of creation through work. The knowledge that by means of work man shares in the work of creation constitutes the 326 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 most profound motive for undertaking it in various sectors 125). In every phase of the development of his work man comes up against the leading role of the gift made by '*nature." that is. in the final analysis, by the Creator. At the beginning of man's work is the mystery of creation. This affirmation, already indicated as my starling point, is the guiding thread of this document (12). The word of God's revelation is profoundly marked by the fundamen~'al truth that man, created in the image of God, shares by his work in the activity of the Creator and that, within the limits of his own human capabilities, man in a sense continues to develop that activity, and perfects it as he advances further and further in the discovery of the resources and values contained in the whole of creation (25). Two qualities identify our humanness: depende~nce and creativity. All is gift and we have an absolut~ dependence on our Creator. Humble acceptance of these faith facts sets us free. Through the creative process order is extracted from chaos, unity is chiseled out of diversity, beauty is captured in stone, word or canvass. As Ge,rald Vann remarks: The so-called industrial revolution ran its course: and ende.d by depriving the mass of men of a fundamental right, of that without which the personality is doomed to sterility and despair: the, creativity which is the counterpart of creatureliness.3 Within these two qualities of our humanness are the duty and right of work. Cooperation can be a most thrilling human experience. God longs for us to work with him in the fulfillment of the plan of salvation. Our very activity is an essential ingredient in the building of the earth and of the kingdom! The dignity of such a mission is immeasurabli~. Yet that is precisely what our scriptural and theological understanding of work indicates: the people of God continue to share in the work of creation.i The Vatican I1 document Gaudium et Spes drives home the reality that we are a Church in the modern world, an "in" that means involve-ment. Any mentality that either despises history or refuses to invest time and energy in improvement of the world goes contrary to the Scriptures and the teaching of the Church. Participation in the mystery of creation is threatened in our time. The buildup of armaments, sufficient now to many times over destroy our planet, leads many to an attitude of pessimism if not despair. Such a consciousness causes paralysis and the mission of work goes unaccomplished. The land is not tilled, book,,are not written, songs are not sung, families are not raised, conflicts are not resolved, resources are exploited. Why not? Annihilation is not only possible but likely! Suspicion is abroad: our times are less creative because of an annihilation attitude. Perhaps we can learn a lesson from Anne Frank. With bombs dropping near her hideout and with death a constant threat, she continued to study her history lesson. Life goes on! Christian faith calls us to our creative work regardless of the dark clouds that surround us. And, of course, one of the most urgent creative 3Gerald Vann, St. Thomas Aquinas (New York: Benziger Bros., 1947), p. 27. Laborem Exercens: Themes and Theses works is peace. Our work must bring about a world in which war becomes impossible. Theme 5: A Spirituality of Work Thesis." Work is a means by which persons grow in union with God and participate in the paschal m.vster.v. She (the Church) sees it as her particular duty to form a spirit.uality of work which will help all people to come closer, through work. to God. the Creator and Redeemer, to participate in his salvific plan for man and the world and to deepen their friendship with Christ in their lives by accepting, through faith, a living participation in his threefold mission as Priest. Prophet and King. as the Second Vatican Council so eloquently teaches (24). This Christian spirituality should be a heritage shared by all. Especially in the modern age. the spirituality of work should show the maturity called for by the tensions and restlessness of mind and heart (25). Since work in its subjective aspect is always a personal action, an actus personae, it follows that the whole person, body and spirit, participates in it, whether it is manual or intellectual work. It is also to the whole person that the word of the living God is directed, the evangelical message of salvation, in which we find many points which concern human work and which throw particular light on it. These points need to be properly assimilated: an inner effort on the part of the human spirit, guided by faith, hope and charity, is needed in order that through these points, the work of the individual human tSeing may be given the meaning which it has in the eyes of God and by means of which work enters into the salvation process on a par with the other ordinary yet particularly important components of its texture (24). The farmer brings the seeds of the field to Eucharist for a special blessing on rural life day, thereby exercising an act of faith in God as creator of the seed and provider for its growth. The newspaper editor cries out against the injustices toward the elderly, thereby fulfilling his prophetic role of denouncing all that infringes upon human dignity and freedom. The president of a country, through policies that properly distribute funds, insures that the poor and needy have their due. The people of God are scattered throughout every profession and work situation and it is precisely in that context that they exercise their spirituality. Union with God is achieved not only through liturgical worship and the celebra-tion of the sacrament. Holiness is gained as well by finding Christ in our brothers and sisters, in the working of the land, in the artistic and intellectual achievements. All of life, permeated by God's presence and love, becomes a grace opportunity and can further the process of salvation. A spirituality of work demands three things: vision, grace and commitment. An abiding vision of the divine presence is a gift of faith. Work is not restricted to the narrow sensate culture (limiting work to the confines of time/space) nor to a humanistic betterment of the world, important as that is. Rather, faith vision situates our work as an integral part of God's salvific will. Grace, the free gift of God's self-giving which transforms our minds and hearts, is the heartbeat of a spirituality for work. Empowered by the Spirit, our work has a certain quality and tonality that makes everything different. There is a freshness, newness and sense of possibility in what is done. Eventually the work will incarnate that grace as 321~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 another sign of God's favor. Further, commitment to the person of Christ by sharing in his life, death and resurrection undergirds all Christian spirituality. The paschal mystery draws us into the dying/rising process of Christian existence. Work constantly involves dying and rising; done in union wiih Christ it allows us to become the person God calls us to be. In Zorba the Greek, Nikos Kazantzakis has one of the characters describe his experience, "I at last realized that eating was a spiritual function and that meat, bread and wine were the raw materials from which the mind is made.TM No longer is there a harsh dichotomy between the secular and the sacred, the flesh and the spirit, heaven and earth. A false dualism is rejected and the unity of existence maintained. Work and worship are not mutually exclusive; they are meant to complement and enrich one another. For some workers their highest moments of prayerful praise and thanksgiving are in the midst of their work experience. A mother caring for her child, the artist sharing the masterpiece, the nurse weeping with the terminally ill, the scientist discovering a new atomic particle, the scholar articulating an insight: nurturing, creating, caring, wondering, discovering, sharing --moments of work, grounded in sacrifice, discipline and great effort, and moments of grace. All of this contributes.to a spirituality of work because to live in God's presence with sensitivity, awareness and love is to live a spiritual life. Theme 6: Work and Questions of Justice Thesis: Work plays a significant function in the justice question: there can be no justice unless work~ is available to people in such a way that basic rights and duties are protected and promoted. In order to achieve social justice in the various parts of the world, in the various countries, and in the relationships betwyen them, there is need for ever new movements of solidarity of the workers and with the workers. This solidarity must be present whenever it is called for by the social degrading of the subject of work, by exploitation of the workers, and by the growing areas of poverty and hunger (8). It must be stressed that the constitutive element in this progress and also the most adequate way to verify it in a spirit of justice and peace, which the Church proclaims and for which she does not cease to pray to the Father of all individuals' and of all peoples, is the continual reappraisal of man's work, both in the aspect of its objective finality and in the aspect of the dignity of the subject of all work, that is to say, man. The progress in question must be made through man and for man and it must produce its fruit in man. A test of this progress will be the increasingly mature recognition of the purpose of wbrk and increasingly universal respect for the rights inherent in work in conformity with the dignity of man, the subject of work (18). While work, in all its ~any senses, is an obligation, that is to say a duty, it is also a source of rights on the part of the worker. These rights must be examined in the broad context of human rights as a whole, which are connatural with man, and many of which are proclaimed by various international organizations and increasingly guaranteed by the individual States for their citizens. Respect for this broad range of human rights constitutes the fundamental condition for peace in the modern world (16). 4Nikos Ka~,antzakis, Zorba the Greek (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1952), p. 79. Laborem Exercens: Themes and Theses Whenever relationships are established, certain issues of justice automatically arise. By its very definition the work relationship between employer and employee presents a mutuality of duties and rights. The encyclical addresses itself primarily to threatened rights of the employee, giving little attention to the dutie.s of the employee toward the employer. Employees' rights are numerous: the right to a just wage, the right to social benefits that ensure life and health, the right to rest, the right to pension and insurance, the right to suitable working environments, the right to strike under certain circumstances, the right to form voluntary associa-tions, the right of the disabled to productive activity suited to them, the right to emigrate in search of work. The correlative list would include the duties that come to the employer or society because of these rights. This area of justice is specific and measurable; much honesty, dialogue and planning are necessary if the ideals is to be achieved. The linkage between justice and peace is dearly articulated: Commitment to justice must be closely linked with commitment to peace in the modern world (2). Respect for this broad range of human rights constitutes the fundamental condition for peace in the modern world (16). Whenever rights are denied or duties neglected,,a profound disturbance shakes the life of individuals and society at large. Theologically we call this sin, ethically we call it injustice, sociologically we call it alienation. Regardless of the language system, the experience and its consequences are clear: the order of God's plan is broken and until reconciliation comes about, until justice is done, the fragmenta-tion continues and peace is not found in the land. Mere absence of war or conflict is not peace; rather, it is an ontological state of being, experienced when relation-ships~ are properly ordered. If charity begins at home, all the more so justice. Thus the Church as an institution must constantly strive for justice and peace within her own immediate membership. The fact that the above rights reside in her own personnel imposes an obligation on the Church as employer. This "beginning at home" is significant since authenticity of teaching and preaching constantly seeks verification in prac-tice. When the Church both teaches justice and lives it, the world has a model which affirms that the realities of justice and peace are truly possible. Theme 7: Work and Various ideologies Thesis: Work demands a meaning and various interpretations are offered by Liberalism, Marxism and Christian theology. The Marxist program, based on the philosophy of Marx and Engels, sees in class struggle the only way to eliminate class injustices in society and to eliminate the classes themselves. Putting this program into practice presupposes the collectivization of the means of production so that, through the transfer of these means from private hands to the collectivity, human labor will be preserved from exploitation (11). This consistent image, in which the principle of the primacy of person over things is strictly preserved, was broken up in human thought, sometimes after a long period of incubation in practical living. The break occurred in such a way that labor was separated from capital and 33{~ Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 set m opposition to it, and capital was set in oppositioh to labor, as though they were two impersonal forces, two production factors juxtaposed in the same "economistic" perspective. This way of stating the issue contained a fundamental error, what we call the error of economism, that of considering human labor solely according to its economic purpose. This fundamental error of thought must be called an error Of materialism, in that economism directly or indirectly ~ncludes a conviction of the primary and superiority of the material, and directly or indirectly places the spiritual and the personal (man's activity, moral values and such matters) in a position of subordination to material reality (13). The only chance there seems to be for radically overcoming this error (primitive capitalism and liberalism) is through adequate changes both in theory and in practice, changes in line with the definite conviction of the primacy of the person over things, and of human labor over capital as a whole collection of means of production (13). Absolutizing is that radical instinct in thought and behavior that makes one idea or value the only idea or value. The label we attach to such a tendency is "isms": e.g., secularism holds that all reality is limited to this world--there is no transcendence; humanism measures all of life in the light of the human person-- God finds no home here; rationalism restricts valid knowledge to that gained by reason--faith vision is excluded; workism so prizes achievement and productivity that leisure (receptivity-contemplation) is meaningless if not downright evil. The encyclical deals with this proclivity to absolutize and firmly rejects certain specific "isms" that surround work. Anathema sit: Marxism that seeks a collectivism of means of production so as to infringe upon the right to private property; liberalism that fails to take into account the common good in its worship of primitive capitalism; economism that views human labor solely in terms of its economic purposes; materialism that subordinates the spiritual/personal aspects of life to material reality. Christian theology consistently seeks a balanced position that protects moral and personal and spiritual values. Thus private property is a basic' right, though the common good will severely limit this right or even exclude it under very restricted circumstances. Economic profit is necessary and justifiable but never at the expense of human dignity. Matter is part of God's creation but is subordinated to the value of the human person. The insights of Scripture and tradition are brought to bear upon the complex reality of the work world. Basic principles are articulated through careful theological reflection which provides a theory that will hopefully inform our action. The Church is not reluctant to speak out with a strong prophetic voice whenever there is encroachment upon the rights of people, be that encroachment by employer or employee. Jacob Bronowski states that "without astronomy it is really not possible to find your way over great distances, or even to have a theory about the shape of the earth and the land and sea oh it."~ Part of the Church's mission is to provide a theologicalastronomy by which the complex components of life can be assessed and prudently judged. The present papal document serves a timely purpose: it ~Jacob Bronowski, The Ascent of Man (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1973), p. 190. Laborem Exercens: Themes and Theses articulates a theology and a spirituality from which to observe and practice the command of God that we work, thereby building up a more human community and furthering the growth of the kingdom. Such an astronomy is no luxury, it is an absolute necessity. Theme 8: Work and its Abuse Thesis: Work, which is meant to humanize and develop persons, can become destructive when means become ends. ¯. it {the anlinomy between labor and capital) originated in the whole of the economic and social practice of that time, the time of the birth and rapid development of industrialiTation, in which what was mainly seen was the possibility of vastly increasing material wealth, means while the end, that is to say, man, who should be served by the means, was ignored (13). The primary basis of the value of work is man himself, who is its subject. This leads imme-diately to a very important conclusion of an ethical nature: however true it may be that man is destined for work and called to it, in the first place work is "for man"and not man "for work" (6}. The very process of "subduing the earth." that is to say work. is marked in the course of history and especially in recent centuries, by an immense development of technological means. This is an advantageous and positive phenomenon, on condition that the objective dimension of work does not gain the upper hand over the subjective dimension, depriving man of his dignity and inalienable rights or reducing them (i0). A gospel question focuses our attention: is man made for the Sabbath or the Sabbath for man? Jesus had to deal with the means/end question and there is nothing unclear about his answer: the Sabbath is .made for man. Ambiguity characterizes some contemporary questions arising from the world of work: What is the relationship between technology and the human person? What status does the individual have in large multinational corporations? When transfers are made, what "considerations are given to the worker's family? If profits will be less but the work situation is more humanizing, what kinds of decisions are made? Is man made for work or work for man? Historically the document states that certain means have usurped the prerogatives of the end; technology (means) has become the master and the human person (end), the slave. At this juncture, justice and peace are no more. The whole order is overturned, human freedom is lost. Simone Weil, a strong prophetic voice for the ~,alue of work in the first half of this century, worked in factories so as to experientially learn the workers' situation. Her experience was not a happy one: workers were dehumanized because they were treated simply as cogs in a large, productive m~chine. Upon reading Homer's Iliad, she extracts a universal truth about evil that applies to our present discussion: Thus in this ancient and wonderful poem there already appeared the essential evil besetting humanity, the substitution of means for ends.6 ~The Simone Weil Reader. ed, George A. Panichas (New York: David McKay Company, Inc., 1977), p. 138. 3~12 / Review for Religious, Ma.v-June, 1982 What is so horrendous is that often this process of evil is unconscious and unin-tended. The means we use for produiztivity are happily introduced. Suddenly we wake up one morning and come to realize, that we are controlled by the very process we devised. The underlying question is one of freedom, a freedom that protects our humanity and a freedom to use tools of production wisely. Such a freedom comes only from hard-won knowledge: we cannot make prudent choices when ignorant of facts and circumstances. Education is of greatest importance here. All people involved in the working community must maintain a high level of attentiveness to attitudes, means of production, societal tendencies, subtle shifts in values. The means/end dilemma must not be blurred. Melville, in his classic Moby Dick, comments that "ignorance is the parent of fear."7 Societal fears often arise because we are ignorant of the proper relationship between means and end. With increased knowledge we are hopeful that fear will be dissipated and our freedom regained. Theme 9: Work and the Common Good Thesis: Work, through the use of natural and personal resources, is an essential force to achieve the common good. ¯. society--even when it has not yet taken on the mature form of a nation--is not only the great ~educator" of every man, even though an indirect one (because each individual absorbs within the family the contents and values that go to make up the culture of a given nation): it is also a great historical and social incarnation of the work of all generations. All of this brings it about that man combines his deepest human identity with membership of a nation, and intends his work also to increase the cor~mon good developed together with his compatriots, thus realizing that in this way work serves to add to the heritage of the whole human family, of all the people living in the world (16). Rational planning and the proper organization of human labor in keeping with individual societies and States should also facilitate the discovery of the right proportions between the different kinds of employment: work on the land. in industry, in the various services, white-collar work and scientific or artistic work, in accordance with the capacities of individuals: and for the common good of each society and of the whole of mankind (18). Here we must return once more to the first principle of the whole ethical and social order. namely, the principle of the common use of goods. In every system, regardless of the funda-mental relationships within it between capital and labor, wages, that is to say remuneration for work, are still a practical means whereby the vast majority of people have access to those goods which are intended for common use: both the good of nature and manufactured goods (19). In the document Gaudium et Spes, the fathers of the Second Vatican Council described the common good in these terms: Now. the common good embraces the sum of those conditions of social life by which individuals, families and groups can achieve their own fulfillment in a relatively thorough and ready way (74). 7Herman Melville, Moby Dick (New York: The Literary Guild of America, Inc., 1949), p. 17. Laborem Exercens: Themes and Theses / 333 Although somewhat nebulous in the abstract, the common good is extremely concrete and pragmatic in experience. Yet certain cultural attitudes towards pri-vate goods and vested self-interest make it difficult for the relationship between work and the common good to be properly understood. One such attitude regards comm~on good items (parks, public buildings, and so forth) as areas of exploita-tion, with no sense of personal responsibility for their upkeep or cleanliness. A mentality of privatized ownership threatens the realization of the common good. Through work 1 will take as much as 1 can without any thought of.making my contribution to the commonweal. Various writers8 are beginning to articulate a public theology and notions of a church which help to provide a vision for the protection of the common good through responsible work and concern. Several years ago there was a global experience that had the potentiality to develop social consciousness for the common good. For the first time in history, through the technology of cameras, we saw ourselves, the planet earth, from the moon. Hurling through space, like people on a small raft, brought us a realization that we are all in this together. The activity of one affects the activity of all. Responsible Work and sharing enriches the human family; failure to do so dimin-ishes and deprives people of quality life. Perhaps the moon photograph has been blurred already and the strong sense of interdependence to which we are called has been obscured by innate avariciousness. Is work done primarily for profit and personal gain? Have we forgotten the common good or disregarded it as some utopian dream? Two types of people have been known throughout history as truly human and noble: people of compassion and people of hospitality. The former have a heart that is moved deeply by the joys and sufferings of others. A'basic affinity with human experience resides deep within the being of compassionate people. Hospi-tality, that gracious welcoming of the stranger-into personal space and time, creates an environment in which the common good is realized. Regardless of.one's employment, the work~ of compassion and hospitality are universal vocations and only when they are exercised, thus producing the common good, do individual goods have any value whatever. The paradox of the gospel grain of wheat is lived again. Theme I0: Work and Communily Thesis: Work builds community by uniting people into a powerful solidarity. In fact. the family is simultaneously a community made possible by work and the first school of work, within the home, for every person (10). The call to solidarity and common action addressed to the worker--especially to those engaged in narrowly specialized, monotonous and depersonalized work in industrial plants, when the machine tends to dominate man--was important and eloquent from the point of sSee Martin E. Marty's The Public Church (New York: Crossroad, 1981)and Parker J. Palmer's The Company o.f Strangers (New York: Crossroad. 198 I). 334 / Review for Religious, Ma.v-June, 1982 view of social ethics. It was the reaction against the degradation of man as the subject of work, and against the unheard-of accompanying exploitation in the fields of wages, working condi-tions and social security for the worker. This reaction united the working world in a commu-nity marked by great solidarity (8). It is characteristic of work that it first and foremost unites people. In this consists its social power: the power to build a community. In the final analysis, both those who work and those who manage the means of production or who own them must in some way be united in this community 120). Communities are formed when there is a common sense of identity, when there is a commitment to a specific value system, when lives are shared by mutual experience. Many work situations have these three qualities. A good schobl faculty know who they are, are committed to truth and its various expressions, and share lives professionally and, to some degree, socially. A professional sports team working together for several years establishes a strong communal bond. Work has the potential to unite people and form community, i.e., a style of work that is balanced and. person centered. What is intriguing is that often the bond of com-munity happens without conscious planning; it is a side effect of deep c6operation. Human life is complex. Like a spider's web, there are many intersecting lines in our relationships and in our multiple communities, e.g., The community to which I belong is, of course, not a static one. Sometimes it is the commu-nity of my wife and myself and my family: at other times that of my relations, of my friends, of my work colleagues, of my city or nation or international grouping. My task in each different community varies according to the particular community I am being consciously part of at any time. In some communities, I am a key figure: in others, of lesser or minimal importance. But in all of them I have a function, a duty and a responsibility and I believe I will be judged on my performance of these at the end of my time. Often I do not know exactly what that function is--but I know that basically it is to be a harmonizing influence, a peacemaker, a go-between, a catalyst, a bringer-out of good qualities in others for the sake of a group.'~ This vision of community and work depicts the range of groupings in one's life and the specific functions that we are to play. The notion of facilitator may accurately describe "the work" (the process of life itself) that will build any community. We facilitate relationships by bringing love and concern which, in turn, bring about peace and oneness. The Gospel of John states that God is always working. Jesus presents himself as the waiter, serving at table those who come for life-giving food. The thrust behind this work is community, to build and complete the Fi~ther's kingdom. Thus the dignity of the vocation of work becomes clear: as co-worker with the Lord we participate in the process of reconciliation, bringing all creation back to the Father. Whatever our task in life, however sublime or humble, we lovingly accept the charge given us and contribute to the realization of the Father's plan. Adveniat regnum ! ~On the Run: Spirituality for the Seventies, ed. by Michael F. McCauley (Chicago: The Thomas More Association. 1974). p. 138. Reflections on Leadership in the Spirit of Jesus Cecilia Murphy, R.S.M. Sister Cecilia Murphy is the President of the Sisters of Mercy of Pittsburgh. In the issue of January, 1976, Sister shared her reflections on the chapter experience of her community. In the present article, a talk given at their congregational meeting of March, 1982, she reflects on her experience of leadership in her community. Sister Cecilia resides at 3333 Fifth AveA Pittsburgh, PA 15213. Living leadership in the spirit of Jesus is a challenge to every Christian. Each follower of Jesus is called to "come after Jesus" and to show others the way. Those called to leadership in a religious congregation of Mercy bear a special responsibil-ity in this matter. How can anyone fulfill this task? My reflections on this topic are a result of trying to "bone it'--trying to dig into the essential and offer some thoughts on what is necessary for leadership in Jesus' spirit. We know Jesus through faith--faith in God's word and sacraments; faith in our personal experiences of Jesus. We know from Scripture that Jesus poured himself out for our sakes and that he taught us how to live. The commitment of our lives and our personal prayer have helped us know experientially who Jesus is, how he loves, what he asks of us: Faith, then, is the first essential for leadership. Things are not always clear and efisy, and the felt presence of the Lord is a special and temporary gift. So, the leader needs to pray for a strong faith-life, to make acts of faith, and to live in faith, believing in God's love and fidelity. Sorting out and probing the purpose of life, religious life, and its values are essential to leaders. These exercises focus leaders on "the one thing necessary." They help to keep clear the purpose of religious community and enable leaders to be conscious of the motives, fears, and choices that are operative in life. Jesus probed the meaning of life by withdrawing from others and praying to his Father in secret. Exposure to solitude and openness to God's ways are integral parts of searching. These opportunities enable leaders to be like the violinist who carefully 335 ~136 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 tunes the instrument before a symphony. Reflection enables the leader to "be in tune" with the divine pitch. Without confidence in God, religious leadership is impossible. The counsel that Catherine McAuley took to heart, to pray as if everything depended on God and act as if everything depended on us, was not only common sense, it was an inspired statement. As Jesus was ever conscious of his Father's power, so must a leader be! All works concerned with the human spirit are beyond human control. Leaders cannot change another pers6n; God reserves that to himself. Yet a leader is called to use all her human potential to create the best environment, and also to pray in confidence, knowing that God's work is ultimately carried out by God-- sometimes through her. Belief in the value of suffering is an essential for a religious leader. Jesus suffered and died. Our congregation was founded on Calvary; there are no easy roads to Mount Tabor. In each human life suffering is present, but Christians are challenged to "take up the cross." Leaders must attempt to follow the Master to Calvary. The particular kinds of suffering which best make an individual an image of Jesus are known only to the Lord. For the leader, however, many of these have something to do with various kinds of poverty. One form 6f poverty is that of spirit, "Why me, Lord?" the leader asks. "There are others holier, more insightful, more loving, more intelligent, more capable, Why me?" And'the Lord replies, "It was not because you are great but because I am great and want to use your nothingness. Don't question my choice--just cooperate." There is the poverty of unfulfilled expectations--those of the leader and those of other members. Unconsciously, leaders sometimes set expectations for them-selves which could not be fulfilled by five people, let alone one. Consider, then, the 335 members of our congregation, multiply by five, and you will have a sense of the number of expectations placed on a leader. The sense of poverty in facing all these unfulfilled expectations is a cause of great suffering. Dealing in realms beyond one's experience and capabilities creates a sense of poverty. Learning about finances, management, interacting with corporate leaders can cause a sense of being entirely out of one's element. Like Ruth, the leader must try to adapt to alien lands, to grow in new knowledge and allow the pinch of human limitations to be felt. There is the poverty of being in an "iceberg ministry." When 1 ask myself what 1 do, it is very hard to define. So much of a leader's ministry is confidential or invisible to others and sometimes to herself. Members of the congregation may wonder why all the paper communications keep filtering into a small community and exclaim, "Another paper from the Mount!" However, some leader may have worked hours trying to simplify and clarify ideas so that they could be shared with (he membership. Dialogue and interaction with members are an important part of leadership but they, too, are invisible parts of the iceberg. Leaders need. to laugh. Although the gospels do not record Jesus as laughing, we can be sure, since we are made in his image, that Jesus did enjoy life. He had Reflections on Leadership special friends, the disciples. He went off with them, shared special meals with them. Without doubt he must have often suppressed a laugh as he experienced their human condition. Leaders, too, need to relax, to have friends, to take time to unwind and be "at home" with family. Rest is a requirement for all human persons and so must leaders be renewed and refreshed. Refreshment help~ one maintain balance--an essential for leadership. Our "Government Synthesis Statement" makes explicit a tension that is inherent in leadership, the tension between internal and external concerns. How does one balance the call to broader church and civic leadership with the need to provide for the growth and development of the membership? There is no answer to that question, only the ongoing struggle to live authentically in that tension. As Jesus lived the tension of the Agony in the Garden, he prayed for the accomplishment of the Father's will. He prayed for courage to fulfill his mission. Leaders need courage, a courage which is strengthened by conviction; made more difficult by uncertainty. In relating to individuals and the total congregation, the leader needs courage to risk--risk to be wrong even when acting in good faith. Leaders can make mistakes and they need courage to face mistakes honestly. Tomorrow's leaders will also need courage to fulfill our "Government Synthe-sis Statement" which calls them to use our corporate power on behalf of the poor. This challenge will take courage and wisdom on the part of the leaders and generosity and willingness for conversion on the part of the membership. As Jesus listened to Nicodemus, so a leader must listen to God, the members, the Church, the world. Jesus was a sensitive listener when he attempted to deal with the needs of others. In Jesus the leader has the perfect model of attentive listening and response to others. Leadership in religious congregations requires a deep realization of the divine help that comes from the prayers of the sisters. Likewise it calls forth a daily prayer: "Glory to him whose power working in me can do infinitely more than 1 can ask or imagine!" Tedium and Burnout in Religious Life Mary Elizabeth Kenel Dr. K(nel, as well as maintaining a private practice in Washington, is a field supervisor in the pastoral counseling program of Loyola College in Baltimore. She may be addressed at 901 Perry Place, N.E.: Washington; DC 20017. In recent years mu~ch of the research in the area of social psychology has focused on the phenomena of tedium and burnout, primarily as these apply to the workers in the human services fields. These phenomena are by no means limited to members of these groups, however, and researchers are investigating burnout at various phases of the life cycle: the tedium experienced by college students, burn-out in marriage and parenting, and that demonstrated in the mid-life and mid-career crises. Everyone at some time or another is vulnerable to the stresses of tedium and burnout and religious are no exception. Indeed, the very qualities that are com-mon to those aspiring to religious life and a ministry of service tend to render religious as a group vulnerable to the burnout syndrome. The term "burnout" was first introduced by Herbert J. Freudenberger~ in his articles on staff burnout in the help-giving inst.itutions. Since that time a number of other authors have made use of the term and have given it various definitions. Edelwich2 defines burnout as a progressive loss of idealism, energy, and purpose experienced by people in the helping professions as a result of the conditions of their work. Pines and Aronson3 define tedium as the experience of physical, ~ Freudenberger, H. J. "Staff Burn-out," Journal of Social Issues, 1974, 30(I) pp. 159-165. 2Edelwich, J., Burn-Out, Stages of Disillusionment in the Helping Professions. Human Sciences Press, New York, 1980. p. 14. ~Pines, A. M. and Aronson, E., Burnout, From Tedium to Personal Growth, The Free Press, New York. 1981. p. 15. 338 Tedium and Burnout in Religious Life emotional and mental exhaustion characterized by emotional and physical deple-tion and by the negation of one's self, one's environment, one's work, and even one's life. They consider burnout to be identical to tedium in definition and symptoms but apply the term particularly to those who work with people in situations that are emotionally demanding. While both tedium and burnout are accompanied by a constellation of symp-toms that include fatigue, lack of enthusiasm, and feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, burnout may be thought of as a state of mind that afflicts those individuals whose work requires that they pour in much more than they get in return, be that return from clients, patients, students, superiors or peers. The dedicatory nature of the vows can set the stage for burnout. Take, for example, a motto instilled during a novitiate instruction: "Chastity loves without seeking a return." A literal interpretation and acceptance of such an ideal can readily lead to burnout as the religious' energies are depleted over time. One of the biggest difficulties with the concept of burnout, however, is that it has become fashionable, a new item in the evergrowing dictionary of psychobab-ble. Burnout as such has no formal psychiatric status and, indeed, many would see it as depression. The literature, however, tends more and more to distinguish between the two concepts and relates burnout to the environmental stresses under which a person works rather than to intrapsychic forces. The onset of tedium/burnout is rarely the result of a single traumatic or disillusioning event. More typically it is the result of a gradual erosion of strength and spirit. Edelwich,4 for example, recognizes a series.of stages that range from idealistic enthusiasm to apathy. The victims of burnout tend to be those who had once been amoiag the most idealistic and ardent, those who at one time were most enthusiastic and joyful. This is hardly surprising, for nearly every author in the field has noted that in order to burn out one must have been on fire at some point. It is the intent of the remainder of this article to examine the antecedents to burnout and tedium as well as to examine the stages of development that lead fr9m enthusiasm to apathy. To the extent that individual religious and communi-ties can recognize and anticipate burnout they will be better able to avoid the ineffectual, wishful remedies that are often practiced and seek more realistic coping mechanisms. A positive ~pproach to the problems of tedium and burnout, then, will not be based on the hope of total prevention which is almost impossible to achieve, but on the realization that it will happen, even repeatedly, and must be dealt with on an ongbing basis. As with any other life crisis, burnout can be turned to advantage in that it can energize a person to break out of a rut. Creative use of frustration can become a stimulus to the kind of enthusiasm it generally erodes. Antecedents to Burnout Research5 on the phenomenon of burnout as it applies to human service 4Edelwich, J. op. cir. pp. 28-29. 5Pines, A. M., and Aronson, E. op cir., pp. 48-54. 3tll~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 workers has identified three common antecedents that would apply equally well to religious. 1. Work That Is Emotionally Demanding In the human serVice professions people work with others in situations that are emotionally draining over long periods of time, during which they are exposed to their clients' physical, social, and psychological problems and are expected to be both skillful and concerned. A similar expectation is placed on priests, brothers and sisters in virtue of their religious profession, in addition, members of religious groups are frequently actively engaged in human service occupations such as teaching, nursing, and counseling. Think, for example then, of the emotional toll of working with the terminally ill, with the mentally ill, with those who have lost loved ones--especially when one's religious profession means one is also expected to explain "God's Will" in these situations. 2. Characteristics of the Professionals Themselves Pines and Aronson6 note that in the human services the occupational task acts as a screening device that attracts people with particular types of personal attrib-utes. The same is true of religious life. Think of the adjectives used to describe priests and religious in terms of the concept of mirfistry. Words such as dedicated, service, and other-oriented are frequently mentioned. 3. Client-Centered Orientation As is the case for members of human services teams, religious focus on people receiving their service. The role of provider of help, understanding, and support is defined by the client's needs with relatively little attention paid to the needs of the professional or the religious. A strictly client-centered orientation does not permit a symmetrical relationship of mutual give and take. Instead a complementary relationship is set up in which the religious or human service worker is expected to give while the client receives. Common to both situations is a dedicatory ethic that elevates service motives and presents work not merely as a "job" but as a "voca-tion" or "calling" in which the reward is supposed to be inherent in the giving. The Prayer of Saint Francis captures this thought: "It is in giving that we receive . 4. Other Antecedents to Burnout In addition to those areas delineated by Pines and Aronson there are a number of other antecedents to burnout that need to be considered. One is that of a lack of criteria for measuring one's accomplishment. There is sufficient difficulty in attempting to define accomplishments in the therapeutic field. How much more so in th6 religious life. How does one define one's success as nPines, A. M. and Aronson. E. ibid., pp. 51-52. Tedium and Burnout in Religious Ltfe 311"1 a "religious"? Does one play the "numbers game"---how many converts, baptisms, hours of donated service? And if there are no hard-and-fast criteria for success, how then does one set standards for reviewing one's life and work? Another source of difficulty lies in the area of career advancement. Far too often the religious who has entered upon a particular form of active ministry because of a desire to work with people is "promoted" to an administrative posi-tion that. while enlarging his or her sphere of influence, many times results in loss of client contact and ultimately in loss of job satisfaction. Antecedents to Tedium While religious life itself is a form of other-oriented profession in which many members actually do work in the human services area, it also has a bureaucratic and hierarchical structure and as such shares many of the antecedents of tedium found in business or government organizations. The literature describes organizational structure as a major determinant of job performance, satisfaction, and tedium.7 Pines and Aronson8 identified three major antecedents of tedium. 1. Overload Overload is a key concept in studies of job stress and its effect on health and can be viewed as having objective/,su.bjective and quantitative/quali!ative dimen-sions. Objective overload refers to the actual volume of work to be processed per unit of time while subjective overload refers to the person's feeling that there is too much work to be done or that it is too hard. Quantitative overload implies that one actually has more real work than can be handled per unit time. Qualitative overload, on the other hand, indicates that the work load demands skills, knowl-edge or training exceeding that of the person assigned a given task. That objective, quantitative overlo.ad is part and parcel of the daily life of most religious hardly needs mentioning. Schedules tend to be full to overflowing and many a prayer has been offered for a few extra hours in the day as well as another pair of hands. Qualitative overload, however, may be even more stressful in the long run and more likely to induce tedium. In a situation of qualitative overload unrealistic ex, pectations are placed on an individual or group who must then deal not merely with the realities of the workload but with a sense of inadequacy and personal failure when it becomes impossible to live up to those "great expecta-. tions." Fortunately, in more recent years superiors and formation personnel have attempted to see to it that people are trained prior to placement in a specific position. With personnel shortages, however, it is tempting to appeal to the per- 7Armstrong. K. 1. "'How Can We Avoid Burnout. Child Abuse and Neglect: Issues in Innovation and Implementation." DHEW Publication #(OHDS) 78-30148. 2(1978). pp. 230-238. ~Pines. A. M. and Aronson. E. op cir. pp. 67-72. 3t12 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 son's "generosity and sense of mission" and propel him or her into a position for which he or she is unprepared and in which he or she expends tremendous energy simply to "stay afloat." 2: I~ek of Autonomy In any area of life, lack of control over one's environment is a highly stressful experience and frequently enough leads to the learned helplessness phenomenon observed by Seligman.9 In this depressed state the person tends !o attribute success to "luck" or "chance" or other forces outside his or her control while accepting full responsibility for failures. A perceived lack of autonomy and the frustration resulting from such a lack is a common cause of tedium in organizations of all types, .for job satisfaction declines as the individual is more burdened by unnecessary rules and red tape and lacks voice in decisions that affect the job and his or her life. Lack of autonomy can also be aggravated by a communication gap between superiors and those further down the organizational hierarchy. This gap may be due to the inherent inefficiencies of communication in large organizations or to differing perspectives among superiors and those actively engaged in a given work. It is necessary then to attempt to build organizational structures that will avoid, to some extent, these pitfalls. The problem of autonomy is a thorny one for religious. Balance must be achieved between a legitimate need for autonomy that is part and parcel of healthy adult functioning and the demand of religious obedience that is, perhaps, the very heart of the religious commitment. To some extent community structures have always made some provision for autonomy, for example, those having perpetual vows might vo~e for the superior, serve as councilors, or in other ways voice an ~pinion on community matters. The proverbial "planting cabbages upside down" type of blind obedience is also a.thing of the past. More recent changes in community life have attempted to address this need for autonomy. For example, the matter of annual assignments is now often handled on ~ consultative basis with the individual religiot~s I~a~'ing more input into the decision than was previously the case. Community meetings 6n the local, regional, and national/international levels also serve to keep the lines of communi-cation open and flowing upward, not merely downward. Nevertheless, the fact remains that the religious, by virtue of the vow of obedience, does surrender much personal autonomy. This surrender is often felt most keenly n.ot'in the early years but later as one must deal with one's own growth and developmeht as a ]'esponsi-ble adult. Much of the "mid-life crisis" seen in religious life centers around the issue of autonomy, the need for personal space and the integration of such concepts as 9Seligman. M. E. Helplessness: On De.pression Development and Death, San Francisco: Freeman Press. 1979. Tedium and Burnout in Religious Ltfe / 343 ob¢dience, choice, power, accountability, and responsibility. Perhaps one of the ways to resolve this conflict is to keep some progressive vision of what the com-munity (small group or larger organization) might accomplish and nurture the scope and consciousness of discretionary behavior. In most life situations things usually are more flexible than they might initially appear. Evaluating the possibili-ties for positive change and focusing one's energies in the realm of the possible enhance one's sense of legitimate power and control. The religious who can be attentive to authority, who can blend personal goals with community goals, and who recognizes both the extent and limit of his or her discretionary power is not as likely to suffer the lack of autonomy that leads to tedium. 3. Lack of Rewards It is indeed unfortunate that most organizations are inefficient in the distribution of rewards, appreciation and recognition, as this contributes to dis-couragement and demoralization among the members and can eventually lead to tedium. It is surprising that better use is not made of the power of positive reinforcement, for common sense would suggest, and research has confirmed, that people are far more able to tolerate considerable stress in situations in which they feel appreciated and their efforts recognized than in those in which they feel the rewards are not commensurate with their efforts. Religious are definitely not exempt from the need for rewards and recognition. Indeed, the absence of high levels of financial remuneration make it imperative that social rewards be given. It is all well and good to appeal to altruistic and spiritual motives, but positive feedback has tremendous reinforcement value that is far too often ignored. As a result, the religious who is.often enough already unpaid or underpaid is deprived of the satisfaction derived from well-earned recognition. Another aspect that frequently causes pain is the fact that the religious may be appreciated by those with whom he or she serves yet get little or no recognition from within the community. It remains true today "there is no respect for a ¯ prophet in his own country" Jn 4:44. While it is true that one should not rely solely on one's superiors for praise there is a need for ~ecognition by one's peers that is often lacking. It is frequently the presence or lack of support at the local level that can make the difference between a vital, contributing team member and a "burnt-out case." Stages of Disillusionment Edelwicht0 defines five stages in the process of disillusionment. Stage one, that of initial enthusiasm, is that period of high hopes, high energy and unrealistic expectaiions when one does not know what the job is all about. In religious life this would typically correspond to the novitiate and formation period as well as the early years of active ministry. 1 recall hearing a novice describe with great anima- I°Edelwich. J., op. cit. pp. 28-29. 344 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 tion the ceremony of initial profession of another sister. The formula of vows, written by the sister, concluded with the words "Surprise me, Jesus!" An older priest seated next to me turned to me, smiled ruefully, and said sotto voce "He will." The second stage is that of stagnation. It is at this point that one's ministry is no longer so satisfying as to substitute for everything else in life. "Is that all there is?" seems to sum up the feelings of this stage. There is a shift in emphasis at this point from meeting the needs of others to meeting one's own needs. For the religious formed in an other-oriented tradition this shift in emphasis can often be accompanied by feelings of guilt and loss of self-esteem as he or she senses that the fervor which marked the early days of religious life has diminished, Edelwich~ calls his third stage that of frustration. It is at this point that one tends to question not merely one's own effectiveness in the ministry but the value of religious life and ministry itself. Frequently emotional, physical and behavioral problems emerge at this stage. The fourth stage, that of apathy, sets in when a person is chronically frustrated. Apathy as such is a typical defense mechanism that occurs after repeated frustra-tion and is analogous to the learned-helplessness phenomenon mentioned earlier. At this point no new challenges are undertaken and one seems to "go through the motions," doing the minimum required to avoid censure. The stage of intervention is defined as whatever is done in response to or in anticipation of the four preceding stages. Intervention attempts to break the cyc!e. It may involve a restructuring of relationships to clients, family, friends and com-munity. It may mean seeking advanced training and new areas of apostolic work. It may, in some instances, mean leaving the ministry and religious life altogether. The Special Problems of Women Religious The antecedents of burnout and tedium mentioned here apply equally well to both male and female religious. The literature has noted, however, that profes-sional women bear a special burden not shared by men. For example, the conflict between career and home demands is more sharply delineated for a woman who, in the effort to balance both, may seek to become a "Superwoman." This sort of role conflict would also appear to be more keenly felt by women religious than by men. Communities of women seem to place more stress on creating a homelike atmosphere in which there is a fairly high level of mutual interaction and group activity. While such a structure has the potential for providing a great deal of warmth and support, the time needed to foster and maintain these community relationships may cause tension if community activities are seen as competing with the demands of one's ministry. Another major contribution to the burnout of women is sexism. As Edelwich~-' ~qbid. p. 29. Tedium and Burnout in Religious 13fe / ~4~3 notes, in the business and professional world large numbers of women are employed in positions of structured inferiority. Sexual stereotyping influences job assignments, allocation of responsibilities and standards of conduct. Sexual polar-ization commonly reinforces polarization by rank and status. This same pattern of sexual discrimination is found within the Church. The hierarchical structure is male dominated and its influence pervades the entire area of religious life and ministry. There is no need even to enter upon a discussion of ordination of women. Think at a more everyday level of the small put-downs, the questions regarding competence, the paternalism that is found all too frequently. How often does "the pastor" win his point by sheer weight of authority rather than by the merits of the case? How many male religious are comfortable dealing with attractive, educated women as peers? How often has a sister's name been reduced to a diminutive form ¯. in jest, of course? How does the treatment afforded male and female faculty members compare--or differ? Needless to say, the additional burden of dealing with one's femaleness takes its toll, for if a woman is sensitive, the professional struggles can be more frustrating. If she is empathic, the suffering she encounters is felt more sharply. If she knew herself as a caring person and a dedicated religious, recognition that she is no longer moved by the needs of others is more crushing. Coping Strategies Once aware of the potential for the development 6f tedium and burnout, what coping strategies can be introduced? This selection will attempt to present coping mechanisms at three levels:, the organizational, the interpersonal, and the intrapersonal. At the organizational level one can seek to reduce tedium and burnout by reducing the overload, making alternative forms of service available to the reli-gious, and by limiting the hours of stressful work. Community-based pre-retirement programs have already begun to make use of these concepts. By extending them to a broader range of personnel, severe forms of burnout may be prevented or at least reduced. Training, of course, is essential, not merely the initial formal education that would prepare the religious for his or her chosen field but continuing education where the !~eligious is given an opportunity to examine the pressures of the ministry, clarify goals and priorities, consider coping mechanisms and develop new skills. In the initial phases of formation training, the interventions appropriate to the stage of idealistic enthusiasm~3 should be taught. Novices or professed in temporary vows should be made aware of the discrepancy between expectations and reality and learn to moderate their enthusiasms before they become bogged down in the stage of stagnation. During this phase of formation the young religious should be taught to examine their motives for entering on ~21bid. p. 18. ~-~lbid. pp. 212-220. 3116/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 certain modes of ministry. The need to be needed is a powerful one as is the need to exert control, a motive that one tends to find if one scratches the surface of altruism. With awareness of their own motives religious can use their emotional investment in the ministry as the basis for insight rather than an acting out of their own needs at the expense of those they set out to serve. In an effort to avoid or at least reduce tedium and burnout, thought should also be given to providing positive work conditions that are suited to the needs of the individual and to assisting the religious to gain a sense of work significance. To achieve this end, as far as possible set clear organizationa| objectives, provide feedback and give the individual appreciation for his or her efforts and accomplishments. On the interpersonal level the development of social support systems is essen-tial. Although the conflicting or ambiguous demands of various systems can lead to burnout, on the whole the efficient and creative use of a social support system is one of ttie most effective ways of coping with the burnout syndrome. Social support systems may be defined as lasting interpersonal ties to groups of people who can be counted on to provide emotional sustenance, assistance, and resources in periods of need and stress, who provide feedback, both positive and negative, and who share standards and values. Ideally, one would belong to several supportive groups: community, family, work, recreational, and avocational. William Glasser~4 in his book, Reality Ther-apy, speaks of the dangers of the "small world." In such a situation, one group, for example, the community or work group, becomes the center of one's entire life and the source of all one's emotional and psychological support. Pines and Aronson~5 list six functions of a social support system, namely: listening, technical support, technical challenge, emotional support, emotional challenge, and the providing of social reality. Rather than expect that'one person or one set of people meet each of these needs, it is helpful to the religious to differentiate the support functions one can get from a given source and seek fulfillment of other needs from other groups. Not to do so places a tremendous burdbn on the sole source of support and leads to disappointment and anger when one's needs are not met. A number of coping strategies that would serve to reduce the likelihood of burnout are open to the individual religious. Among the variables that reduce the severity of burnout are learning, meaning and significance, success and achieve-ment, and variety.~6 Learning and understanding and a healthy curiosity are basic motivators. In the stage of stagnation new learning can open the door to new aspects of one's work and prevent the sort of burnout that accompanies one's perception of being at a dead end. Learning need not involve formal instruction; an attitude of open- V~Glasser, W., Reality Therapy. New York: Harper Colophon Books, 1975, p. 30. ~SPines. A. M., and Aronson, E., op. cir., p. 124." ~Pines, A. M., and Aronson. E., ibid., pp. 143-144. Tedium and Burnout in l~eligious Ltfe/ 347 n~ss to new experience can serve to keep one interested and alert. ~, Finding or creating meaning and significance in one's work and life is essential. Without these ingredients one becomes apathetic, alienated from oneself and others. Viktor Franklt7 recognized this and incorporated the struggle of the mature person to find, meaning in life into his work Man's Search For Meaning. "Nothing succeeds like success" goes the old maxim and nothing can eliminate burnout more effectively than the acknowledgment of one's achievements. Reli-gious, perhaps more than others, need to learn to acknowledge and enjoy their own successes before pushing on to new challenges. Certainly the drive for success can be self-destructive if one becomes obsessed with competing and pushes for "success" in the absence of other rewards. Nevertheless the religious needs to learn to define areas of accomplishment in which he/she can take justifiable pride. Monotonous activities lead to tedium whether they be found in a work or a non-work situation. A sense of variety and interest, on the other hand, originating largely with the person can susiain one in the ministerial field. Variety need not be a matter of outside stimulation, although that is certainly useful, but can be achieved by an openness to the uniqueness of the people with whom one works or whom one serves. Other ways of seeking variety include job changes within one's field or more total changes that involve seeking a new path. The career changes taking place more and more often at mid-life reflect this desire for variety. One coping mechanism mentioned by Pines and Aronson~8 was the develop-ment of an attitude of detached concern, which they defined as a stance in which the empathic professional (or religious) is sufficiently detached or objective in his attitudes toward the client to exercise sound judgment and keep his/her equanim-ity, yet also have enough concern for the client to give sensitive, understanding service. To attempt such a stance requires a delicate sense of balance. It is a process phenomenon, not a static entity that once achieved is dever lost. The religious needs to discern the level of emotional involvement proper for each person/situa-tion he or she encounters, avoiding a draining, ineffectual overinvolvement on the one hand and a clinical coldness that dehumanizes on the other. Compartmentalization~ is another way suggested by Pines and Aronson~9 to keep a balance between energy invested in the work sphere and the energy invested in life outside of work. This is one area that may prove problematic as there are still many community situations in 'which the religious both work and live together. Situations such as these tend to foster the creation of the "small world" mentioned earlier, and negative feelings generated in one sphere tend to carry over into the other. Newer community structures have attempted to alleviate these difficulties by establishing residences that are not identified with one particular ~TFrankl, V. Man's Search.for Meaning. Boston: Beacon Press. 1963. ~Pines. A. M. and Aronson, E., op. cir., pp. 54-55. ¯ ~91bid., p. 164. ~1411 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 form of ministry. The residents work at a variety of jobs and in'several differe~at locations and "come home" when their workday is ended. While no single living arrangement is perfect, one such as this does provide the individual religious with an opportunity to separate work demands from other aspects of his/her life. Perhaps the most important of the coping mechanisms open to the individual religious is that of "being good to oneself" or "doing to oneself as you have done to your client." Committed religious tend to burn out because they take on too much for too long and with too much intensity. To reduce the likelihood of burnout one needs an awareness of work stresses and a recognition of the danger signs. One also needs to acknowledge areas of vulnerability and put reasonable limits on one's work for there will always be more that could be done. in addition, one needs to set realistic goals, both long-term and short-term, and be willing to provide for one's own needs, treating oneself as a person with legitimate needs, taking time for prayer and pleasure and nourishing oneself so that there will be strength available to continue the service to which one is called, that with St. Paul one can state: ". my life is already being poured away as a libation . 1 have fought the good fight, 1 have run the race to the finish, I have kept the faith" (2 Tm 4:6-7). Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning Ps 30:5. Morning Cometh A Quotella Weeping that weeps me far away May bring the night and end the day. Endure: For the human heart is a finite flask, A bottle whose meager store of tears Night and pain may cause to flow. But even as the last tear falls Joy, as the light, lifts my heart and so, Cometh the dawn. In balance must all things lie. The source of nighttime tears allow Morning to come at last somehow. C. Dell Turney 4108 Little Fairfield Eureka, CA 95501 Prayer As an Act of Justice Mary Lou Theisen, 1. H. M. Since September, Sister Mary Lou has been involved in the Active Spirituality program, located in Seton Hall of Mount St. Joseph College, Mount St. Joseph, OH 45051. This is what Yahweh asks of you: only this, to act justly. to love tenderly. to walk humbly with your God (Mi 6:8). In this simple statement uttered through the mouth of the prophet Micah, God reveals to us for all times the essence of religion. Religion, in the purity of its meaning, is not an ethic nor a multiplication of actions, but a way of life--an integral act lived out in the intggrity of one's being. In this single act there is no dichotomy between acting justly, loving tenderly or walking humbly before God: one element flows from and feeds into the others, finding its true mehning only in conjunction with them. The purpose of this article is to show how true prayer (walking humbly with God), entered into in the integrity of our being, not only leads to actions of justice, but is in itself an act of justice. In his Dictionary of the Bible,~ John McKenzie points out that the Hebrew word sedek, which we translate as justice, is a very complex term embracing the concepts of judgment and righteousness. It is sometimes translated as integrity and implies a right balance born of fidelity to the truth of what something or someone is supposed to be. To be just or to act justly in the biblical sense, therefore, is first of all to be judged righteous or to be justified by God. To seek justice is to seek salvation or justification in truth. To seek justice is to seek God. To act justly is to tMcKenzie, John L., Dictionary of the Btble (Milwaukee: Bruce Publishing CO. 1965). 349 351~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 act out of the truth of who we and others are in the authenticity of our being. This truth is discovered ~nd entered into in times of solitude, in times of walking humbly with God, when we are unable to hide behind our actions, our words, or any of the multiple walls we so often build around our true self. It is in solitude that we are forced to come face to face with our sinfulness and inability to save ourself. In solitude we also experience God's willingness to forgive, his power and desire to save (justify) us and all people. Let us reflect for a while on Jesus, to see this reality present in his prayer/life. In Hebrews 5:7-9 we read: During his life on earth, he offered up prayer and entreaty, aloud and in silent tears to the one who alone had the power to save him from death, and he submitted so humbly that his prayer was heard. Although he ~vas son. he learned obedience through suffering: but having been made perfect, he became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation and was acclaimed by God with the title of high priest of the order of Melchizedek. St. Paul is here indicating that it was du.ring his time spent in intimate com-munion with his Father, in the solitude of the desert or on the hilltop, that Jesus came to realize and to accept who he was, to realize and to accept his call as the Messiah, the "Beloved Son," with all that this call meant for himself and for others. During these times of reflecting on what was happening in his own life in the light of the words of the prophets and psalms, Jesus came to the truth of his human condition as one destined for misunderstanding, betrayal, suffering, and a death from which he was unable to save himself: This is what I meant when I said, while 1 was still with you, that everything written about me in the law of Moses. in the prophets and in the Psalms has to be fulfilled. He then opened their minds to understand the Scriptures and he said to them: So you see hoffit was written that the Christ would suffer and on the third day rise from the dead (Lk 24:44-47). More importantly, however, through his own reflections on Scripture, Jesus came to know and to trust in the truth of God's faithfulness which alone could and would justify him, and through him, all people: But now. thus says Yahweh: Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you: 1 have called you by your name. you are mine. Should you pass through the sea. 1 will be with you, or through rivers, they will not swallow you up. Should you walk through fire, you will not be scorched and the flames will not burn you. For 1 am Yahweh. your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior (Is 43: I-3). He said to me, You are my servant in whom I shall be glorified: while I was thinking, I have toiled in vain, I have exhausted myself for nothing: and all the while my cause was with Yahweh. my God was my strength. And now Yahweh has spoken, he who formed me to be his servant, to bring Jacob back to him. to gather Israel to him (Is 49:3-5). This inner realization of who he was in truth and of the power of God's faithfulness working in and through him formed Jesus as an authentic person of justice, both in the biblical sense of one who receives his justification from God, and in practice. Being convinced in the core of his being that it was his Father's love and faithfulness which saved and justified him, Jesus could only act justly Prayer as an Act of Justice / 35"1 toward others for he knew that this gift of God's saving love was not meant for him alone: It is not enough for you to be my servant. 1 will make you the light of nations so my salvation may reach the ends of the earth (Is 50:6). I. Yahweh. have called you to serve the cause of right: I have taken you by the hand and formed you: I have appointed you as covenant of the people and light of the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to free captives from prison and those who walk in darkness from the dungeon (Is 42:6-7). As Donald Senior states so well in his insightful book Jesus--a Gospel Por-trait2 (p. 138): "From his intimate life of prayer with his Father and from a powerful searching of Scriptures, Jesus had forged the basic convictions that animated his life and ministry. Basic convictions about God as loving Father and about love as fundamental bond of human relationships were joined to an unshakable integrity that translated principle into action.~ The gospels tell us that this action at times took the form of speaking out against the social injustices of his day. He especially denounced the so-called religious leaders, not as much for their smugness and legalistic interpretation of religion as for their inability to recognize God as a God of love and their own lack of love and compassion: "But alas for you pharisees! You who pay your tithe of mint and rue and all sorts of garden herbs and overlook justice and the love of God" (Lk i 1:42). Jesus' conviction, born of his own reflection on Scripture and his own expe-rience, that God was a God of love whose love and salvation was gratuitously given to all--the just and the unjust, the clean and the unclean, the poor and the rich, the sinners and the outcasts as well as the good and self-righteous--led him not only to denounce the systemic injustices of his time, but more especially to live out of his conviction in his own daily encounters with others. He associated with the sinners, the outcasts, the sick, the poor, as well as with the rich and the righteous, showing by his very presence to them his acceptance and respect of them as individuals. By his gentleness, love and compassion for each one he offered them the experience of God's liberating and compassionate love for them, while always respecting their own integrity as persons and never forcing his vision on them (e.g., the rich you'ng man). It was precisely this attitude of Jesus toward others, his acceptance of sinner and righteous alike, which was the greatest affront to the religious leaders of his day for it contradicted their notion of religion: that one was saved by his own actions, by his minute observance of the law. Consequently, opposition toward Jesus and his teachings grew among the leaders. Jesus, well aware of this increas-ing hostility, was compelled to rely more and more on his Father's faithfulness to save him: Now my soul is troubled. What shall I say: Father. save me from this hour? But it was for this :Senior. Donald, C.P. Jesus, a Gospel Portrait (Dayton: Pflaum. 1975). 359 / Review for Religious, May-June 1982 very reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name (Jn 12:27-28)! Jesus' human struggle to accept his salvation from God and not from his own actions reached its peak in the garden when he pi'ayed in agony, "Father, if it is possible let this chalice pass. Nevertheless, let your will be done, not mine." This total surrender of his person to God's saving plan for him brought Jesus then to his ultimate moment of prayer--his death on the cross. At the moment of death, when, we are told, one's entire life passes before one's eyes and the dying person often speaks a.word which expresses not only what is being experienced at that moment, but which somehow summarizes an entire lifetime, it was not surprising that Jesus spoke from his heart the opening words of Psalm 22. This psalm, which must have been one on which Jesus meditated often during his life and especially at the end when he knew his death was imminent, truly summarizes his life and death experiences. Although spoken in a moment of extreme agony and intense feeling of being abandoned by God, the psalm is not one of despair, but one of ultimate trust in God's power and willingness to save him as his ancestors who had trusted in God had been saved: Yet. Holy One. you who make your home in the praises of Israel. in you our fathers put their trust. they trusted and you rescued them: they called to you for help and they were saved. they never trusted you in vaifi (3-5). It is a psalm of praise to the God who is already saving him in spite of all the evidence to the contrary: Do not stand aside, Yahweh. O my strength, come quickly to my help . Then I will proclaim your name to my brothers, praise you in the full assembly: you who fear Yahweh. praise him! Entire race of Jacob, glorify him! Entire race of Israel, revere him! For he has not despised or disdained the poor man in his poverty, has not hidden his face from him, but has answered him when he called ( 19, 22-24). In this moment of abandonment to the mercy of God who is already saving him in his faithfulness, Jesus is very aware that the meaning of his life and death is not only for his own justification but for that of all peoples: You are the theme of my praise in the Great Assembly. I perform my vows in the presence of those Who ~ar him. The poor will receive as much as they want to eat. Those who seek Yahweh will praise him. Long life to their hearts. The whole earth from end to end. will remember Prayer as an Act of Justice / 353 and come back to Yahweh: All the families of the nations will bow down before him. For Yahweh reigns, the ruler of nations! Before him all the prosperous of the earth will bow down, And my soul will live for him. my children will serve him: Men will proclaim the Lord to generations still to come, His righteousness (justice, salvation) to a people yet unborn. All this he has done (25-31)! Thus Jesus' greatest act of justice in the biblical, as well as the practical, sense occurred at the moment of his death. In that very act of surrender of all that he was to God's saving plan for him, he became justified himself and by that same act won justification for all peoples: Altho.ugh he was son, he learnt to obey through suffering, but having been made perfect, he became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation (Heb 5:8-9). ¯. in whom, through his blood, we gain our freedom, the forgiveness of our sins (Ep 1:7). What does this reflection on the prayer/life of Jesus have to say to us today as we strive to live an integrated life of prayer and justice? It means, first of all, that like Jesus we must learn to seek our own justification and that of others from God and not from our own actions, and to trust in his faithfulness to save us. Like Jesus, we must take time apart to reflect on our !ife in the light of Scripture and learn who we truly are and to what we have been called. In these times of quiet aloneness with God we will come to know ourselves in all of our weakness, sinfulness, and inability to save ourselves or anyone else. But, more importantly, we will also come to know who God is and in this light to know our true self as one already loved, forgiven, called and empowered by God through the blood of Jesus. As with Jesus, this inner conviction of who we are in truth and of the power of God's faithfulness working in and through us will form us as authentic persons of justici~ in the core of our being. Convinced of God's love and faithfulness which has already justified us by gratuitously forgiving our sinfulness in the blood of Jesus, we will be moved to act justly toward others. As with Jesus, this conviction will at times take the form of speaking out against the injustices of our day, of working to bring about a more just social order, and of supporting others who do this. In our daily life, it will affect ourattitude toward others, moving us to accept and affirm the integrity of each individual we encounter, for each has already been loved, forgiven and called to salvation by God. What greater act. of justice can we extend to another than to allow that person the space to discover and act out of his/her own authenticity as Jesus did with those he encountered', instead of forcing our vision on that person? Animated with the Spirit of Jesus we will, then, become."doers" of justice, of liberation in our world, each according to the call experienced in his/her honest encounter with God in prayer. However, like Jesus, in this very act of prayer itself, we will have .already entered into an act of justice. In coming before God in prayer we are acknowledg-ing our own inability~to save burselves and our need to be justified by God. In the 354 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 act of surrendering ourselves in openness to God's power to save us, we enter into the death of Jesus, crying out as he did from our own emptiness for God's saving opresence in our life, while at the same time gratefully accepting the justification we have already received through God's faithftilness to Jesus on the cross. Since through our baptism, as St. Paul tells us, we have been baptized into this death of Jesus, our prayers of surrender, of praise, of trust and gratitude, our prayers for mercy--entered into in the integrity of who we are and of who God is--are an integral part of the prayer of Jesus on the cross. Our prayers are the prayers of the Just One who came to bring justice and truth to all people, and who continues to do so in and through each person who accepts salvation from God. The greatest articulation of this prayer is, of course, the Eucharist. Here we actually participate, with gratitude (Eucharist--thanksgiving), in the eternal act of justification won by Jesus on the cross and reenacted each day "for the glory of God's name, for our own good and for the good of all the world." Moreover, because this death of Jesus into which we have been baptized was for the justification of all people for all time, every prayer of a baptized person affects the whole world for it can never be said in isolation. "A final thing that needs to be said about prayer is that it is always corporate. We often distinguish between private and public prayer, and to an extent this distinction is valid. But whether private or public, Christian prayer is always common, communal, corpo-rate. All Christian prayer is to our Father. in prayer we are united with our brothers and sisters, whether we are alone in our closet or together in our com-munity: we are united to the whole church. The prayer of the community is not a collection of individual prayers: it is common prayer out of our common plight to our common Lord in our common hope. We pray as part of the communion of saints, joining the whole people of God in all history and around the globe."3 Thus, as a person baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus, and who has experienced in one's own life the love and saving power of God, the Christian is able to come before God in Jesus' name to offer to God in his/her own person all of the love and gratitude, the care, concern and work toward the establishment ¯ of the kingdom which is being experienced and lived out, knowingly or unknow-ingly, by every person in the world. As a person who experiences in one's own being sinfulness, selfishness, anger, frustration, fear and oppression of others, the baptized person can come before God as Jesus did on the cross, in behalf of the sinfulness of the world and cry out for mercy and forgiveness of sin for all people. As a person who experiences, even in times of prayer itself, emptiness, a search for meaning, boredom, ignorance, a feeling of rejection, a lack of faith and trust, the Christian can unite his/her own emptiness and need with the sufferings, the hunger and search for love and meaning, which exist among all people and, with them, accept his/her human condition and beg for salvation from God as Jesus did on 3Jen"nings. Theodore W., Jr., "Prayer, The Call for God." The Christian CentuG'. April 15, 1981, pp. 410-414. Prayer as an Act of Justice / 355 the cross. A baptized person can pray in this way, for in Jesus' Spirit we are all one before God. A call to pray in this posture is a call to be truly present in solidarity with all of humanity and all of creation which "still retains the hope of being freed, like us, from its slavery to decadence, to enjoy the same freedom and glory as the children of God" (Rm 8:21). It is a call to become one with the joys, sorrows, struggles and sufferings of all people and to accept in faith the saving love of God, "our freedom, the forgiveness of our sins" (Ep 1:7), so as to constantly offer to God the thanksgiv-ing and praise due him in justice. A call to stand before God in this manner of prayer in the authenticity of one's being is then, in a very real sense, an act of justice on behalf of the whole world, for it is a sharing in the surrendering love of Jesus. who throughout his life and especially in his death accepted his justification and that of all people from God who alone can save us from death and bring us into the kingdom of truth and justice. An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plu~ postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 St. Ambrose's Theology of the Consecrated Virgin George E. Saint-Laurent Doctor Saint-Laurent, of the Department ~f Religious Studies at California State University (Fuller-ton). presented the content of this article as a paper to the American Academy of Religion. He may be addressed at the university. Fullerton. CA 92634. Occasionally we may observe that an individual was ahead of his or her time. More often we are scandalized that an earlier generation could have been so deaf to its prophets and so blind to its evils. The history of Christian thought discloses at least two persistent phenomena which have accompanied its dialectical development. First, when we human beings confront a dipolar aspect of the Christian mys-tery, we are almost irresistibly tempted to assume an either/or stance and opt for one extreme to the neglect of the other. We find it difficult to bear a truth which cannot be pressed into our neat categories but finds itself in a creative tension between two poles. And yet it is invariably in that delicate both/and position that Christian "catholicism" or "orthodoxy" has discovered its authentic home: both the divine and the human in both Christ and the Church, with full attention both to grace and to nature, both to faith and to reason, both to spirit and to matter. Second, since our very existence is historical, contextual, and societal, we human beings are predictably limited and conditioned by the foreshortened hori-zons of our own cultural world. As we attempt to interpret our experience in terms of Christ and make it intelligible, we find our perceptions to be prejudicial in their foci and linguistically determined in their expression. And yet the Christian believes that Christ, the subject of his or her faith, is uniquely and eternally one. We who come later can only sympathize with the giants of Christian antiquity, who, being human~ were incapable.of seeing every facet of the total Christian commitment in undistorted vision. Every Cho~stian (hinke,r risks the occupational St. Ambrose's Theology of the Virgin / 357 hazards of his enterprise: the unconscious bias, the unintentional obscurantism, the unnoticed dislocation of values, the quite innocent use of outrageously sexist, racist, or bigoted language, the accidental imbalance which is far more indebted to his or her concrete situation in this place at this time in the face of this crisis than it is to the actual data of Revelation. The purpose of this essay, is to investigate St. Ambrose's~ theglogy of the consecrated virgin, insofar as it emerges from his liturgical hymns and sermons. It is a view remarkably balanced and far less a victim of negative historical condition-ing than the portraits of his contemporaries 'in the Western Church. His was an era when Platonism, with its flight of the soul from the body, and Manichaeism, with its rejection of the human body and its sexuality as evil, were still significant intellectual currents, predisposing Christians to opt for spirit over (rather than with) matter. No less than a Jerome2 could exceed all bounds of good taste and propriety in his zealous promotion of virginity at the expense of female sexuality, marriage, and motherhood: No less than an Augustine3 could be so haunted by his own sexual confusion that he could grudgingly accept sex within marriage only if procreation were both physically possible and explicitly intended. Yet Ambrose, bishop of Mila'n, was able to nurture the highest esteem for consecrated virginity without denigrating the human body, disparaging females, or detracting from the goodness of Christian marriage.4 Unlike the vitriolic Jerome, torn as he was between a melancholic misogynism and an irrepressible delight in feminine companionship, Ambrose was able to insert into the Christian tradition a more humanistic appreciation of woman and her role. Unlike the self-alienated Augustine, torn as he was between an admira-tion for his mother Monica and a theological pessimism compounded by personal tragedy in his own sexual history, Ambrose was able to pass on a more integral and positive perspective. G. Tavard 'writes: "Ambrose was not only an enthusiastic promoter of the virginal life; he had also put forward what may well constitute the only profound theology of womanhood in the Latin world.~ ~For a life of St. Ambrose, see F. H. Dudden, The Ltfe and Times of St. Ambrose. 2 Vols. (Oxford: 1935): and A. Paredi, St. Ambrose: His L~fe and 7~mes. Tr. M. Costelloe (Notre Dame: 1964). 2On St. Jerome, see F: Murphy, Ed., A Monument to Saint Jerome (New York: 1952); and D. Wiesen, St. Jerome as a Satyrist (Ithaca: 1964). 3The literature on St. Augustine is vast. See, for instance, P. Brown, Augustine of Hippo (Berkeley: 1967); and G. Bonner, St. Augustine of Hippo: L~fe and Controversies (New York: 1963). 4This subject has been much studied in recent years. See, for example, R. Ruether, "Mothers of the Church: Ascetic Women in the Late Patristic Age," Women of Spirit: Female Leadership in the Jewish and Christian Traditions. Ed. R. Ruether and E. McLaughlin (New York: 1979) 72-98: and eadem, "Virginal Feminism in the Fathers of the Church." Religion and Sexism, Ed. R. Ruether (New York: 1974) pp. 150-183: M, Maxey, "Beyond Eve and Mary," Religion for a New Generation. 2d Ed., Ed. J. Needleman, et al. (New York: 1977) 264-277: D. Carmody, Women and Worm Religions (Nashville: 1979) 113-123: E. Clark and H. Richardson, Ed., Women and Religion: A Feminist Sourcebook of Christian Thought (New York: 1977), pp. 53-77. 5Tavard, Women in the Christian Tradition (Notre Dame: 1973), p. I00. 358 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 It is important to realize just how critical the fourth century was in Church history. It was a period of transition from the. status of a despised and proscribed minority to that of a state religion professed and promoted by the Emperor himself and by most of his s.ubjects. During the era of persecution, only persons of heroic courage, high moral aspirations, and deep faith had been willing to embrace Christianity with its concomitant risk to life and property. Now, however, it had become a distinct advantage socially, economically, and politically to convert, and masses of "average" human beings sought admission. The inevitable consequence was a cooling of fervor, with a compromised commitment to the full implications of the Gospel. ~ in order to forestall unworthy "conversions," the Church instituted a lengthy catechumenate for testing and training candidates before their baptism at the Easter Vigil. In order to preserve her credibility as "The Holy Church," the author-ities created an even more exhaustive and lengthy system of "canonical penance" for the rehabilitation of public sinners who repented. But there was also a more private and individual response in the extraordinary development of asceticism. Previously it had been the martyrs who had constituted the ideal of Christian perfection. Because of their bloody sacrifice, they had been idealized as the perfect disciples who had mystically died in the Lord and could therd'ore anticipate a glorious resurrection in the same Lord. Now it had become the ascetics who achieved a "white" or spiritual martyrdom by their lives of seclusion, self-discipline, and consecrated celibacy. Women as well as men pursued the new ideal. One could retreat into the wilderness (either literally or figu.ratively), and, far from the scandalous vanity and corruption of urban life, die to oneself daily through prayer, fasts, vigils, and the consecration of one's personhood in celibacy. There were the eremitical and semi-eremiticai structures of Anthony as well as the fully cenobitical communities of Pachomius, Eustathios, and Basil the Great.6 There was the growing pressure upon priests to live celibately.7 And there were the convents for women associated with the names of Paula, Eustochium, the Melanias, and Macrina.8 On the other hand, some cohsecrated virgins simply lived privately with their parents or in their own homes or even in the homes of clergymen, although the latter practice was continuously deplored and condemned by ecclesiastical authori-ties. 9 The celebrated sister of Ambrose, Marcellina, for instance, lived with her 6See D. Chitty, The Desert a Ot)' (Oxford: 1960): C. Frazee, "Anatolian Asceticism in the Fourth Century: Eustathios of Sebastea and Basil of Caesarea," The Catholic Historical Review66(1980), pp. 16-33; G. Saint-Laurent, "St. Basil of Caesarea and the Rule of St. Benedict," Diakonia 16 (1981), pp. 71-79. 7See C. Frazee, "The Origins of Clerical Celibacy in the Western Church. Church Histor.v 41 (1972). pp. 149-167. 8See, for example, Gregory of Nyssa, Life of St. Macrina, Ed. V. Callahan. Vol, 8 in W. Jaeger (Ed.), Works (Leiden: 1952). 9See D. Bailey, The Man-Woman Relation in Christian Thought (London: 1959), p. 33. St. Ambrose's Theology of the Virgin / 359 mother and a companion in Rome. Since no convents appear to have been available at Milan, the virgins in Ambrose's care must have resided with their parents. Ambrose himself implies that the native Milanese virgins were relatively few in number, whereas young women came to Milan from Piacenza, Bologna, i~nd Mauritania to celebrate the-rite of consecration. A maiden would solemnly vow her chastity as a bride of Christ in the church before a bishop, with a ritual closely paralleling that of earthly marriage. Accord-ing to Roman custom, a bride was to wear the stola (a long outer garment), receive a fiery-coloredflammeum (her bridal veil) from the priest, and vow her fidelity to h~r bridegroom in the presence of witnesses. A virgin enteri.ng into mystical espousal with Christ also wore a stola and received the flammeum Christi to betoken her new state of life, but both were of somber color. She also pronounced her vow before witnesses, who in her case were the whole community publicly assembled to voice their approving "Amen." We do not know the actual formula of consecration invoked within the Mila-nese liturgy, but we may suppose that it would closely resemble the long preface of consecration to be found in the Gelasian Sacramentary, whose provenance is from Rome about a century later.~° Drawing upon several incidental references in the writings of Ambrose and others, F. H. Dudden reconstructs the general shape of the ceremony thus:' The congregation, at which the bishop himself was the officiating minister, was solemnized with much pomp on one of the great festivals--in the case of Marcellina on the Feast of Epiphany: more usually, however, at Easter, when it was attended by the newly baptized wearing their white robes and carrying lighted tapers. The bishop delivered an address to the' virgin, and offered a solemn prayer. The girl then publicly pledged herself to a life of chastity. Next the bishop took the veil, which had been lying on the altar, and placed it over her head, with the words, q wish to present you as a chastg virgin to Christ.' A benediction was then recited, to which the congregation responded 'Amen." At some point in the service Psalm xlv was chan!ed, and possibly some hymns in praise of virginity were sung." By virtue of her consecration, the "bride of Christ" became a special responsi-bility of her bishop, who was required to visit her regularly, open the Scriptures to her, and impart instructions to her about her duties of state. Although she was separated from the other women in the asseinbly by a screen, she was still believed to,possess a place of honor. Women would sometimes draw near to the enclosure in order to request the kiss of peace from consecrated virgins. As bishop of Milan, Ambrose fulfilled many roles which proved decisive for the later history of the Western Church. Defender of Nicene orthodoxy, champion of the Church's freedom from imperial control, channel of eastern theology to the ~0See I. Mohlberg. Ed. Liber Sacramentorum Romanae Aeclesiae Ordinis Anni Circufi (Sacramenta-rium Gelasianum). Rerum Ecclesiasticarum Documenta Series Major. Fontes IV (Rome: 1960). pp. 124-128. On the consecration of virgins, see P. Camelot. "Virginity." New Catholic Encyclopedia 14 (1967). pp. 702-703. ~tDudden. op. cir. p. 151. ~0 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1982 Latin world,!2 creator and reformer of public worship,Is spiritual father of the great Augustine: Ambrose was all of these and much more as one of the Four Great Latin Fathers.14 But the special object of Ambrose's pastoral concern throughout his years of episcopal service was the consecrated life. Ambrose has been called "The Father of Latin Hymnody.''1S Of the nineteen liturgical hymns which may be ascribed to him with greater or less certitude, five are directly pertinent to our subject, while a sixth holds.indirect interest. Since it is primarily through the sacred liturgy that Catholic and Orthodox Christians have always appropriated their beliefs and values, we may very well be confronting here effectual channels of Ambrosian thought far more significant on the popular level than any discourse could ever have been. Our first three hymns extol Mary, the Mother of Jesus, as the perpetually virginal woman who was nonetheless made marvelously fruitful by the interven-tion of God. A fourth hymn glorifies a popular virgin martyr. A fifth hymn praises Christ, the Spouse of virgins. Finally, our sixth hymn expresses the fundamental spirituality of the consecrated women. Ambrose is remembered as an enthusiastic admirer of the Blessed' Virgin, and he holds a preeminent place in the development of Mariolggy. In lain surgit hora tertia,16 a hymn composed for the liturgical hour of Terce, our poet recalls how Christ entrusted his mother to the Apostle John. The strophes pertinent to our investigation, together with this writer's English translation, are as follows: celso triumphi uertice matri Ioquebatur suae: en f!lius, mater, tuus, apostole, en mater tua. praetenta nuptae foedera alto docens mysterio, ne uirginis partus sacer matris pudorem laederet. From lofty pillar of triumph ¯ He was speaking to his mother: Mother, behold thy son, Apostle. behold thy. mother. Covenants of marriage pretended Taught he with deep mystery, Lest the sacred bearing of a virgin Cast hurt upon a mother's honor. The hymn Intende, qui regis Israel17 was intended "for the Christmas liturgy, and it was an ideal opportunity for Ambrose to blend two of his favorite themes: the glories of the Word Incarnate and the wonders of Christ's virginal conception and birth through Mary. Jesus and Mary are praised together from the second stanza through the fifth. The text, together with this writer's translation, follows: ~2See Saint-Laurent, "St. Ambrose and the Eastern Fathers," Diakonia 15 (1980), pp. 23-31. t3See idem. "St. Ambrose as Channel of Eastern Liturgical Customs to the West," Diakonia 13 (1978), pp. 101-110. t4Together with Jerome, Augustine, and Gregory the Great. tSFor example, see M. McGuire, "Ambrose. St.," New Catholic Encyclopedia I (1967). p. 375; R. Trench, Sacred Latin Poetry (London: 1874), pp. 87-88: F. Raby, A Histoo, of Christian Latin Poetry 2d. Ed. (Oxford: 1953). pp. 32-36. ~rFor a critical text, see W. Bulst, Ed., Hymni latiniantiquissimi." LXXV Psalmi II (Heidelberg: 1956), p. 41. ~TFor a ~ritical text, see ibid., p. 43. St. Ambrose's Theology of the Virgin / 361 uenL redemptor gentium. ostende partum uirginis, miretur omne saeculum, tails decet partus deo. non ex uirili semine, sed mystico spiramine uerbum dei faetum est earo fructusque uentris floruit. aluus tumescit uirginis, claustrum pudoris permanet, uexilla uirtutum micam, uersatur in templo deus, proeedat e thalamo suoo pudoris aula regia, geminae gigans substantiae, ¯ alacris oecurrat uiam. Come, redeemer of the nations, Demonstrate a virgin's bearing, Let all the world be moved with wonder, So great a bearing befits our God. Not from human instigation, But from mystic inspiration Word of God did flesh become And fruit of womb did flower. Swollen grows a virgin's womb, Door of chastity remains, Virtues' beacons glitter forth, Engaged is God within his temple. ¯ Springs forth he from nuptial chamber, Royal palace of chaste modesty Giant of twofold nature he, Speedily runs he his course. The claustrum pudoris permanet of the fourth strophe is strikingly similar to phrases in Ambrose's De institutione virginis,~8 and expresses a doctrinal concern important to him: the virginity of Mary before, during, and after the birth of Jesus. Ambrose refers to the womb of Mary as aula regali uteri virginalis in that same work,!9 and g~es on to state: "Aula regialis is the virgin, who is subject not to man but to God alone." The hymn Inluminans altissimus2° is a hymn written for the observance of Epiphany, with its threefold orientation towards Jesus' baptism in the Jordan, his manifestation to the Magi, and his first miracle at Cana. Our immediate interest is focused upon the third stanza, the text of which follows, together with the present writer's translation: seu stella partum uirginis caelo micans signauerit et hoc adoratum die praesepe magos duxerit, A star shining from heaven Will have shown a virgin's giving birth And on this day will have led The Magi to adore the crib. Christ, "the most high Enlightener," has beenborn of a virgin, and so a radiant star in turn becomes a sign, bathing the crib in its light for the Magi to see. From the preceding three passages it is evident that Ambrose d~lights in dwelling upon Mary's perpetual, yet fruitful, virginity. Mary is the womanly model of the consecrated virgin par excellence, and her miraculous conception of Jesus by the power of. the Holy Spirit constitutes a quasi-paradigmatic event. The consecrated virgin, may approach the regal dignity of Mary through her own state of life, and so become spiritually in her own body a royal palace for God. The divine maternity is a privilege unique to Mary, of course, yet her self-donation to ~Ambrose. De institutione virginis 8.52 (PL 16.320). ~91bid. 12.79 (PL 16.324). 20For a critical text. see Bulst. op. cit. p. 45. 362 / Review for Religious, May-June 1982 God is imitable. Ambrose suggests that the Word can mystically enter into union with the consecrated Virgin for spiritual fruitfulness in the service of others. Our fourth hymn, Agnes beatae uirginis,2t was composed especially for a litur-gical celebration of the Feast of St. Agnes (January 21). It is effectively a poetic paraphrase of a sermon of Ambrose wherein he recounts the martyrdom, of this famous young maiden, a homily which he actually preached for that feast and which is found in his De virginibus.2~ The bishop's basic theme is praise for the valor of a maiden who willingly died as a witness to her faith in Christ. In the first stanza, Ambrose announces that it is the feastday of Agnes, who consecrated her virginity through martyrdom. In the second stanza, our author marvels'that such a child, too young for marriage, should nonetheless be suffi-ciently mature to give her life in testimony--and that at a time when even adults were wavering in the" face of persecution. In succeeding stanzas, Ambrose narrates the story which his audience knew so well. Agnes deliberately sought out martyr-dom, and presented herself as a bride about to meet her Heavenly Bridegroom, her mystic dowry being her very blood. When commanded to offer idolatrous wor-ship, she condemned the altar-fire and promise, d to exiinguish it with her blood. In concluding stanzas, our poet dwells upon Agnes' dignity upon the deathblow, as she drew her garments about herself in chaste modesty. The entire hymn is significant for our purpose, and so all eight'strophes, together with this writer's translation, are here reproduced: Agnes beatae uirginis natalis est, quo spiritum caelo refudit deb#um pio sacrata sanguine. matura maro,rio fuit matura nondum nuptiis, nutabat in uiris fides, cedebat e.ffessus senes. metu parentes territi claustrum pudoris auxeram soluit fores custodiae .tides teneri nescia. prodire quis nuptum putet, sic laeta uultu ducitur, nouas uiro.ferens opes dotata censu sanguinis. aras ~fandi numinis adolere taedis cogitur, respond#: baud tales faces sumpsere Christi uirgines. hic ignis extinguit fidem, Of the blessed virgin Agnes It is the bi~'thday, on which she Poured back her spirit owed to heaven ' Consecrated b~ her faithful blood. Mature was she for martyrdom ' Though for marriage not yet mature, Faith was faltering among men, Conceding old men to be weak. Terrified by fear her parents Had provided a prison of shame Faith dissolved the gates of custody Not knowing how to be,restrained. One might think her advancing to wed So~,joyful in countenance is she led Bringing new wealth to her bridegroom With dowry of her blood endowed. Altars of a devilish god by Tortures she is pressed to worship, Answers she: Not such fires Have Christ's virgins chosen. This flame blots out the faith, For a critical text, see ibid., p. 46. -'~Ambrose, De virginibus 1.25-29 (PI. 16.-189-190). ~ St. Ambrose's Theology of the Virgin / 363 haec flamma lumen eripit. hic hic ferite, ut profluo eruore restinguam focos. percussa quam pompam tulit ham ueste se Iolam lege?ls curare pudoris praestitit, ne quis retectam cerneret. in morte uiuebat pudor uultumque texerat manu, terram genu flexo petit lapsu uerecundo cadens. This fire extinguishes the light. Here destroy me, here, that with Spilt blood I may quench the flames. Struck down what splendor she showed For covering her total person She displayed her care for modesty Lest anyone should see her unclothed. In her death, chastity was living As with hand she veiled her face, With bent knee she besought the earth Falling forward with modest movement. Ambrose was resolutely incarnational, not only in his doctrinal convictions, but also in his pastoral instincts. For him, the cult of the martyrs--like the cult of the virgin--was but an obvious implicate of any sound and balanced Christology. Grace could transfigure the material, the earthy, and the human into a sacramental epiphany of the spiritual, the. heavenly, and the divine. It was inevitable that Ambrose shot~ld exploit the

Issue 9.5 of the Review for Religious, 1950. ; A.M.D.G. Review for Religious °~Venial Sin r o P. De LeHer Sensitiveness . Winfrld He;bst On Family Spirit . . ¯ . Gerald Kelly Christ on W)nnincj Friends . Jerome Breunlg ~uestions and Answers Book Reviews Report to Rome VOLUME IX NUMBER RI::VII:::W FOR RI::LIGIOUS VOLUME IX SEPTEMBER, 1950 NUMBER 5 CONTENTS VENIAL SIN--P. De Letter, S.J . ¯ . 225 SENSITIVENESS---Winfrid Herbst, S.D.S ." . 233 FOR YOUR INFORMATiON-- Suggestions for Superiors General; Vocational Questions; Medlco-Moral Problems; Catholic Dailyi C~nfessors' ~Patron; Sisters of St. Joseph; "Mike"; Reprint Series . ~. 236 ON FAMILY SPIRIT--Gerald Kelly, S.J . 237 CHRIST SHOWS US HOW TO WIN FRIENDS--Jerome Breunig, S.J: 252 " BOOK REVIEWS-- Our Way to the Father; The History of the Popes; The Holy See at Work; .Little Meditations on the Holy Eucharist . 256 BOOK NOTICES . . , '. . . ' . 261 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 262 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 21. Jubilee Indulgence . , 265 22. Permission for Trips . 265. 23. Authority to Change a Custom . 266 24. What are Norrnae? . 266 25. Collective Nouns Applicable to Sisters . 267 26. Meaning of "the rule." . . 268 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 268 REPORT TO ROME . 269 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, ,September, 1950. Vol. IX, No. 5. Published bi-monthly: January, March,May, July, September, and November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January" 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.3., Gerald Kelly, S.3. Editorial Secretary: Jerome Breunig, S.J. Copyright, 1950, by Adam C~ Ellis, S.J. Permission is hereby granted for quota-tions of reasonable lengtb, p~ovided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscript,on price: 2 dollars a~year. Printed in U. S. A. Before writin9 to us, please consult notice on Inside beck cover. Venial Sins " P. De Letter, S.J. \ SPIRITUAL authors commonly teac, h that a sure sign of fervor in a religious is the hab.itual avoiding of venial sins, just as tepidity betrays itself in frequent and lightly-committe, d daily faults. Between these two dispositions which are neatly character-ized in their, extreme types is a nearly indefinite number of degrees. The steady effort of good religious aims at approaching the ideal of fervor, which implies a constant care to exclude from one's daily life whatever is sinful. It is worthwhile to consider this negative aspect of the striving for religious perfection, not because it is more important than the positive practice of virtue, especially of charity tov)ard~ God and neighbor, but because this refraining from all that is evil is easily ascertainable and consequently serves as an unmistakable indication of genuine fervor. Concerning this negative aspect of perfection, two questions may be asked: (1) when exactly do we commit a venial sin? (2) what is normally possible, or not possible, as regards the avoidance of venial sins? The first question aims at outlining clearly the scope of the matter under discussion with a view to cen-tering our attention on the really sinful objects and not on what is mistakenly called sinful. The second purposes to define the bound-ari4s within which our efforts may be successful, thus eliminating the danger of expecting what may well be beyond human powers. 1) When do we commit a venial sin? The question is clear and simple. And so is the answer--in the-ory. But how does it work out in practice? When is a thought or a desire or a word or an action a venial sin and not merely a positive imperfection, that is, something which is less good than its opposite .or than its omission but which is not sinful in itself?1 The question lln holding firmly to a distinction between venial sin and positive imperfection, Father De Letter is following what seems to us to be the more common and the better opinion. For a very fine presentation of the contrary opinion, especially with reference to the teaching of St. Thomas and the Thomistic school, see The Morality of Imperfections, by J. C. Osbourn, O.P. We might add here that even theologians holding the same opinion as Father De Letter might find difficulty in agreeing on a list of examples of either small venial sins or positive imperfections. For instance; one of the examples that Father De Letter later gives of venial sin ("deliberate thoughts or words of vanity which reveal an inordinate self-concern or self-esteem") might also be given as an example of a positive imperfection. 225 .P. DE LETTER Ret~ietu/:or Religious is worth asking because-a different, judgment isto be made of what is sinful and what is riot. We commit a sin whene~'er we knowingly and voluntarily go against the manifest preemptive will of God, that is, when we do or choose what He forbids, or neglect what He commands. The sin is venial only, and not mortal, when either the knowledge or advertence or the voluntariness is imperfect or partial (even though the matter be grave), or when the object of the sinful act itself is light whether of itself, as in a harmless lie, or because of parvity of matter, as in a small theft. Accordingly there is a first category of venial sins which may be called defective or miscarried mortal sins. Though of less practical importance for our present purpose, these must be mentioned briefly. They are the sinful actions (or thoughts, etc.) which ordinarily would be grave sins but happen to be venial sins on account of incomplete advertence or voluntariness. In other words, since they are imperfect as human acts, they are also .imperfect as sins. This may be the case with thoughts or desires against purity which are o.nly half noticed or half consented to; or with words or actions against chhrity when the gravity or harm involved is in good faith neither realized nor intended. Though faults of this kind may evi-dently occur in the life of a religious, they are not the ordinary "daily" sins which we are here .considering. Consequently a mere mention of them suffices. The other class of venial sins consists of those thoughts, desires, words, or deeds which of their nature involve only light guilt. Yet, even these are not subjectively sinful unless they are deliberately willed with the realization that they are sinful. In other words, these three conditions must be fulfilled, even in a venial sin: (a) actual knowledge-~either implicit or explicit, clear or confused--that some-thing is sinful; (b) some degree of voluntariness, at least incom-plete; and (c) an evil object, that is, the thing done is, or is thought to be, contrary to a divine command or prohibition. Whenever any one of these three elements is entirely absent there can be no question of even venial sin (except in so far as a culpable negligence might be at the root of them). According to these requirements, an unnoticed distraction in prayer is not a venial sin (as long as it is unnoticed); nor is an unheeded imagination or thought of self-complacency; nor a reflex reaction to some exterior stimulus, such as a sign of impatience; nor an uncharitable thought or unkind word which, without any fault 226 September, 1950 VENIAL SINS of our own, we fail to perceive. In all these cases the first element required for a venial sin--namely, actual knowledge--is lacl~ing. Similarly, the element of voluntariness is absent, for example, in the case of a harassing distraction in prayer which is noticed but not accepted (that is, sincerely rejected); or in a persistent but resisted unkind thought; or in an uncharitable remark that escaped before we could control ourselves. Finally, no positive command of God is disregarded by the omission of an exercise of devotion which is not obligatory; or by not choosing a more perfect andmore difficult way of performing one's duty; or by contenting oneself with what is good without preferring the better; or by recreating well and taking natural relaxation with less supernatural motives; or by talking during times of silence without necessity though not without some usefulness. All these actions .are in themselves good, even though they are less good than other ways of acting. There is not, how-ever, on that score, anything sinful in them. But when thoughts, desires, words, or deeds combine all three elements mentioned: awareness, voluntariness, evil object, they must be called what they are, venial sins. Noticed and accepted distractions in prayer mean irreverence towards the Almighty and consequently are sinful. Thoughts or words against charity which are conscious and voluntary go against the good will we owe all children of God and therefore are sins. The same must be said of a lackof self-control which is voluntary, and of wilful impatience by which we deliberately cause pain to others. Deliberate thoughts or words of vanity which reveal an inordinate self-concern or self-esteem are venial sins because they offend against truth and humility. Thefts of small things, or a lie which is not unjust, a lack of self-control in the matter of food, all these are, supposing some awareness and voluntariness, venial faults because they involve an evil object. Since in all these failings the degree of conscious and free consent may vary, the degree of guilt will also vary accordingly. At times the guilt will be slight, at other times more serious. Often enough it will be difficult for us to determine bow much wilfulness and guilt is involved. But then we may safely leave the estimate to Him who reads the hearts of men. All this teaching of the spiritual authors and moralists looks elementary enough, and so it is. Yet it might be good to stress this one particular point: when in our own daily lives we find defective ways of thinking, speaking, or acting which totally lack any one of 227 P. DE LETTER Ret;iew ~'or Retigious the three conditions of venial sinfulness, we may truthfully and peacefully consider that they are not sins--unless, perhaps, there be some more.or less guilty negligence in their root cause. Consequently, we need not confess them nor endeavor to be sorry for them though we can rightly be sorry for the previous negligence which may be the cause of them. They may well be humbling and unpleasant defects which serve to mortify us. But before God and in our conscience they do not harm us spiritually. No one will doubt all this. Yet it not infrequently happens (as personal experience amply proves) that although we realize full well what we should do from a theoretical point of view, nevertheless, in pr.actice, we are unable to act accord-ingly. If the aforementioned defects are not sinful, there is no humil-ity or sanctity in speaking or acting as if they were. (This does not mean, of course, that there can be no true humility in acknowledging our negligence which is the cause of them.) If they are not evil they do not give rise to th~ spiritually harmful effects which are inherent in venial sins. More particularly, they do not cool the fervor of our charity towards God and neighbor, nor do they prepare the way for serious lapses. Whatever evil is in them lies in their root cause only. Shall we conclude that we need not concern ourselves about them at all? This conclusion would not be fully warrantdd and would not harmonize with the fundamental endeavor of religious life which aims at more than the avoidance of sin. It is right to conclude that we need not see sins where sins do not exist. We should, however, be careful about these morally guiltless defects which may well spring from some not guiltless negligence and easily turn us in the direction of sinfulness. Many of the examples quoted above would cease to be sinless as soon as some degree of awareness and wilfulness would enter into them. The care to be taken concerning them evidently does not consist in directly going against them; in most cases that is practically impossible. But they can be eliminated partially by slowly and patiently building up within ourselves strong psycho-logical habits, which incline us in the opposite direction. For example, if we develop a general disposition of kindness and good will, we slowly create in ourselves a "second nature" that will by itself prevent many an unkind thought or word. As to actual practice, must we believe that it is relatively easy for religious to commit venial sins? At times we are led to believe that we could hardly live an hour or fulfill our ordinary daily duties without committing some venial sin or other. Every idle word, every vain thought, every complacency in success seems to be sinful to 228 September, 1950 VENIAL SINS some extent. May we hope that this fear or opinion is somewhat exaggerated ? Different temperaments and different views may incline different people either to severity or to leniency. But no one will deny the principle which both the severe and the lenient must respect: that the degree of free consent to a forbidden object (which in the case of venial sins is something not grievously evil) constitutes the measure of guilt. Without voluntariness there is no guilt and no sin. The divergencies of opinion will, then, stem from the different estimates as to how much freedom of consent is involved in our defective actions. 2) What is normallv possible, or not possible, in avoiding venial sins? This question may seem somewhat surprising. But it is impor-tant that we ask it and find an answer to it if our endeavor to exclude venial sins from our lives is to be enlightened and effective. It would be useless and harmful in the long run to strive after what is impos-sible. SOoner or later such a course of action would inevitably lead to discouragement in the face of repeated apparent failures. So, too, it would be prejudicial to our spiritual progress if we mistakenly did not try to do what is feasible. In this matter we are not left to personal conjectures and reason-ings or to the teachings of private authors. The Church.has given bet own authoritative and even infallible teaching. Four centuries ago the Council of Trent defined against the Protestants that a man in the state of grace is unable "during the whole of his life to avoid all sins, even those that are venial, except by a special privilege from God such as the Church holds in regard to the Blessed Virgin." And when explaining bow venial sins of their nature do not destroy the state of sanctifying grace the same Council conceded that "during this mortal life men, however holy and just, fall at times into at least light and daily sins which are also called venial." This is a most precious hint which must preserve our endeavor both from presump-tion and from dejection. It clearly states what we'must not expect, and what, therefore need not surprise or disappoint us. We cannot hope to exclude from our whole lives all venial sins; we shall not succeed, however saintly or advanced in the spiritual life we may be. Unless we can count on a special privilege such as our Blessed Lady had received we should be trying and promising ourselves the impos-sible. And who would claim for himself this privileged treatment 229 P. DE LETTER Reoieto /:or Religious which is altogether exceptional (the Council of Trent mentions only one.exception, the Blessed Virgin) ? We need not, therefore, be aston-ished or disheartened if, in spite of our best efforts and after long fidelity to the inspirations of grace, we still at times fall into light or daily faults. This is the common lot, the Church says, of the saints. We surely do not expect to be better than the saints, nor shall we be disappointed when we come to know from experience that we are not. But lest some one might find in this doctrine of the impossi-bility of avoiding all venial sin a pretext for taking things easily, the Church has carefully weighed her words. She has infallibly defined only this: It is not possible without a special privilege to avoid all venial sins during an entire lifetime. Whatever is less than this no longer comes within her infallible teaching. Strictly speaking, therefore, it may be true that some saints, even without a special privilege, would commit, say, only two or three venial sins during their whole lives. Even then the Church's definition would remain intact. But this interpretation obviously minimizes her teaching. Her mind is clearly different. She grants that even saints sometimes fall into light sins. How often, she does not say. But she definitely seems to say, from time to time. And it would follow logically that this frequency will vary according to the degre~ of virtue or sanctity or moral strength which a saint has reached. The Church's. teaching, therefore, cannot offer any pretext for an easy-going life. But it is a valuable safeguard against presumption or discouragement. It pre-serves us from attempting the impossible. But the impossible is a distant limit to which we can always approach nearer and nearer, for we can almost indefinitely reduce the number of our small sins. In this connection we should recall the twofold division of venial sins commonly given by spiritual writers: first, the fully voluntary or deliberate venial sins which one commits calmly and with unham-pered freedom, precisely because they are onltj venial and nothing serious; secondly, the venial sins of weakness in which the volun-tariness is only partial and diminished by surprise, or inattention, or fatigue, or listlessness, or some other reason, but in which there still is a sufficient degree of advertence and free consent to make them guilty and to make us responsible for them. This difference in venial sins is well known from experience; each one can no doubt trace it in his own life. Now. it is clear enough that we are able with God's grace to exclude from our daily lives the first category of venial_sins. We can 230 September, 1950 VENIAL SINS make up our minds and be determined not deliberately to commit any venial sins. Since these are fully deliberate, it depends on our free wills alone to commit or not to commit them. From the very nature of the case, we are not here taken by surprise. If we were, there would no longer be question of fully deliberate faults. And our free will cannot be t:orced into a completely free consent; it is we ourselves who decide. Many theologians, it is true, declare that Christians do not in fact avoid all deliberate venial sins during a whole lifetime with the ordinary graces they receive. Because of our innate weakness we some time or other lose sight of the determina-tion not to sin venially. Yet, with growing fidelity to grace and growing abundance of graces these faults can, in those approaching to perfection and sanctity, be eliminated altogether from their daily lives. Accordingly, it is not this class of venial sins which the Church mainly had in mind when she declared tb~t it is impossible for a just man to avoid them entirely during his ~ hole life. What Trent infallibly declared pertains to the second kind of venial sins, which are not fully deliberate. Even saints cannot with-out a special privilege avoid all such sins of weakness. Will this sur-prise any one? Catholics who believe in the fall of m~n and in original sin with its moral consequences on our human nature and on its efforts for good, will expect this. Our weak human nature would require, in order never to be taken by surprise by attractive and pleasing but forbidden objects, a vigilance and self-control so con-stant and so uninterrupted that ir is normally beyond our human strength. Much, of course, depends on the environment in which we live and on the virtuous habits and moral strength we have acquired. Where little or no occasion or temptation arises it is not hard to maintain the degree of watchfulness which bars complete surprise. And for the advanced in virtue and the strong of character, for the humble and the recollected, the charitable and the pure, invitations to sin will be fewer and less attractive. Even they, however, will " have their moments of weakness when they are caught off: guard and when they ball-knowingly, half-willingly do, say, desire, or think what they should not. We cannot expect that this kind of venial sins will ever be fully banned from our lives. We can never feel entirely safe and secure against their attacks. All we can do, and all we oug~hot to do, is by indirect action to try to diminish their number and to decrease the measure of wilfulness and.guilt in them. This effort can and should advance on a nearly indefinite scale leading us always closer and closer to the limit pointed out in the Church's 231 19. DE LETTER Review For Religious teaching. And this goal is our best endeavor. Venial sins, even the semi-deliberate ones, do spiritual harm in many ways. The harm decreaseswith the decreasing guil't, but it remains proportioned to the guilt. From all this it f611ows that a twofold result can be achieved by all of us in the matter of avoiding venial sins. First, we can with the help of grace that is always at our disposal, bann from our lives all fully deliberate venial sins. Secondly, we are able, with the help of the same grace, notably to diminish the number and the guilt of the half-deliberate ones. As regards the avoidance of fully deliberate venial sins, nothing more need be said. The thing has only to be done. But to avoid the semi-deliberate sins, we must concentrate on indirect tactics. We can increase our watchfulness against surprise attacks and make sure that this watchfulness does not relax to the point of dangerous neglect. We can counterac' the causes of unguardedness. And that practically means to grow in virtue and moral strength; for strong virtue can counterbalance the weakness of human nature which is the root cause of our being caught unawares. This indirect action against venial sins is to be applied according to each one's special needs. Each one has to develop those virtues and that moral fortitude which go against the kinds of venial sin to which he is ordinarily tempted. Some insist on charity because they easily fail in that line; they ought to cultivate a general disposition of kindliness in thought, word, and deed; both in prayer and outside of prayer they can thus build up a habit which will be a permanent counterweight against hasty and almost reflex unkind actions. Others are prone to thoughtless and selfish words and actions which are prompted by a natural urge to self-seeking 'and self-assertion: they should develop recollected self-control with the natural means of peacefulness and will power and the supernatural aids of a living' spirit of faith, a sincere and exclusive desire of what God wants, and a spiritual depreciation of all that concerns self only. These examples indicate what is meant by in-direct action against half-deliberate venial sins. The idea is to coun-teract the roots of weakness and inattention from which these faults normally spring. It is possible to paralyze these causes of sins in an ever-increasing measure.' The more we grow in virtue and holiness, the less become our faults in number and guilt. Religious approach this ideal of purity of heart in the measure of their fervor. And their advance in the spiritual life also depends proportionately on the purity of their lives. It is, therefore, impera- 232 September, 1950 SENSITIVENESS tive to know and to do what can be done .with. regard to our daily faults. The more generous and sincere our endeavor in this regard, the more truly shall we be what the religious profession demands of its followers: .giving our best endeavor to acquire the perfection of the Christian life. SensiEiveness Winfrid Herbst, S.D.S. THyoAuT t hwea ost ha'e rv edrayy c. aInt dseide msesl ft-hreavt ealsa tai orne lwighioicuhs Iy ¯oruec weiavnetd t ofr obme as open as one can prudently be, as ~lear as water in a crystal vase. You tell me that you have marked down sensitiveness, ~/our inor-dinate sensitiveness, as your very character itself, .and that you have made resolutions accordingly. Humility in all its forms was, and is to be, your weapon,against this fault of character. You tell me that your sensitiveness is the direct offspring of pride and self-love, and that already¯ some years ago you recognized it as .the great enemy against which you must fight unceasingly. 7y'ou believe that you have made just a little headway against it but that much still remains to be done. Very frankly you tell me that your sensitiveness injures you somewhat as follows. Following a reproof, a censure, an admoni-tion, sometimes even the slightest, you become intensely excited interiorly; you feel bitter and hard. Then come unkind thoughts, bitter reflections, inconsiderate criticism, plans to drop or change reso-lutions, temptations against your vocation, discouragement. You state that absolute silence is your only safety then; for were you to speak you would become violent and say things which you would certainly regret, but which, because of your pride,, you might never retract, to your great spiritual danger. Often you are thrown into this state by a single look of disapproval or by something which is done by an individual or by the community that is not to your liking. You add that a strange phase of your sensitiveness is that it is often aroused even by things which are not intended as offensive. This being so, something must be done. And you ask me to tell you what. 233 WINFRID HERBST Review ~or Religious I do veril~r believe that you cannot get rid of your sensitiveness as such, as a natural quality. But in your striving after religious perfection you certainly can keep it down; you can direct it into the proper channels. You can be sensitive about your Heavenly Father's business. To say, "I will not let my pride get the upper hand in the future," would be a useless resolution. What you must do is con-vince yourself that there is nothing in you or about you in which you may of yourself glory and boast. In other words, as you your-self s~uggest, you must acquire humility; and since the best way to acquire it is to practice it, you must let no day pass without seeking occasions to do so and you must from time to time make it the sub-ject of your particular examen according to Rodriguez. But I would have you remember that humility is in every way compatible with manliness, courage, 'resolution, magnanimity, a longing to do great things, a will to win. With St. Paul you may say, "I can do all things." But you must not fail to add in all sin-cerity and humility, "In Him who strengthens me." Humility is truth; and this assertion of St. Paul's is always true. In the proper discharge of your duties you must have a certain confidence; in your studies you need a certain ambition. But all things must be with God and for God, not for self and for men. And, of course, this confidence, courage, and resolution should not show itself in self-praise. How can you boast of that which you have not of yourself, of that which has been given you? You have in a special manner received everything from God: your wonderful vocation, your remarkably good health, your mod-erate endowments, your love of order and exactness, your zeal in religious observance. You simply need confidence and resolution. Cultivate it, then, especially interiorly. I would really like to impress it upon you very earnestly that you may and must have con-fidence in yourself, provided always that self is wholly and humbly lost in God and leaning upon Him, upon Him in whom you can do all things. Confidence in yourself--yes; but at the same time be deeply im-bued with the conviction of your own nothingness. Be persuaded that it is vain and ridiculous to wish to be esteemed because of certain endowments received as a loan from God. Practice acts of meekness, patience, obedience, mortification, sor-row for sin, the renunciation of your own feelings and opinions, and the like. 234 September, 1950 SENSITIVENESS If no attention is paid to you, show no resentment but bear it with resignation and tranquillity. Do not condemn the" actions of others, interpret everything charitably, and, if the fault be manifest, strive" to attenuate it as much as possible. .And forget about it, unless your office obliges you to apply a remedy. In open questions do not contradict anyone in conversation; do not get overexcited in arffuing: if your opin, ion be considered of little worth give way quietly and remain silent. When you must defend the truth, do so courageously, but without being violent or. contemptuous. Lay up a good store of gentleness so that in all circumstances you may ~etain your equanimity. Do not nourish in your heart feelings of dislike and revenge against those who offend you. If anyone blames you or speaks ill of you, do not fly into a pas-sion bu't examine your shortcomings and humbly thank God for preserving you from such things. Whenever you are in.clined to be impatient or downcast, fight against such a temptation courageously, being mindful of your sins and of the fact that you deserve greater chastisements from God. If you .commit a fault and are despised for it, be sorry for the fault before God and accept the dishonor incurred 'as an expiation for it. Yes, I think you should concentrate on the practice of humility. Humility is a fundamental virtue, a sure pledge of sanctity, a token of predestination. A most important lesson taught us by the Divine Savior is this: "Learn of Me, because I am meek and humble of heart." In order to practice humility, be convinced that of' yourself you have nothing but sin, weakness, and misery; that all the gifts of nature and of grace which you enjoy you have received from God, who is the principle of your being; and that to Him alone is due all honor and glory---ornnis honor et gloria. But, you may exclaim, the program you outline is simply heroic. I'm glad you feel that way about it. A proper spirit of humility makes you realize that it will be difficult to live according to the out-line given and that you will be subject to many failures. But that should not prevent you from trying or cause you to give up once you have tried. Recently a religious wrote to me with reference to an article'that I had published on rel!gious observance: "I feel that I have you for a 235 WINFRID HERBST friend because of the barbs contained in your article on religious observance. Try as I might to rid myself of those timely printed remarks, I kept coming back and rereading the same. Ashamed is the right word, indeed. Yellow or coward would be the right word too. Why? I kept asking myself. After having to admit the truth the answer seemed to be: not wanting to be considered a goody-goody and not being concerned about being a perfect religious." To which I replied: "It is a good sign, this dissatisfaction with self. I am not worried about you, so long as you accept your short-comings without discouragement and try to profit by them. It is a sign of growth in humility." For Your Information Suggesfion for Superiors General The first annual report covering the year 1950 must be made by all religious superiors general (even by superiors of independent monasteries and houses) on the forms issued by the Sacred Congre-gation of Religious, not later than the end of March, 1951. During that same year all superiors general of lay institutes (Brothers and Sisters) in both Americas must send in the quinquennial report for the years 1946-1950. A new questionnaire has been published for this report. The English text of the questionnaire (342 questions) costs $1. The ten forms for the annual report including an explana-tory letter by,'the Cardinal Prefect of the Sacred Congregation of Re-ligious cost fifty cents. These forms and the English questionnaire should be ordered now. Send a bank check or an international postal money order (obtainable at any post office), for $1.50 made out in favor of Sacred Congregation of Religious to: Rev. Giulio Mandelli, Archivist, S. Congregation of Religious, Palazzo San Callisto, Rome, Italy. Be sure to register your letter at your postoffice to avoid losing it in the mails. We hope to publish some practical suggestions regarding the filling out of the annual report in the November issue; on the quin-quennial report in the January issue. gocaflonal Ouesflons An interesting and practical pamphlet is One Hundred Vocational (Continued on page 251) 236 On F: mily Spirit: Gerald Kelly, S.3. ~T IS TRADITIONAL usage in the Church to refer to a religious institute or community as "a religious family." This expression is rich in meaning; and all of us can profit by occasionally reflecting on it. The present article is designe~l to provide a stimulus for such reflections; it is by no means calculated to do full justice to the possibilities. . Leaving the Old In itself, the expression, "a religious family," has a positive meaning. It signifies that the religious community is a family in its own right with the duties and privileges that belong to real family life. But this positive element presupposes something negative: a break with one's natural family. Without separation from the old there can never be complete incorporation into the new. Logically, therefore, our reflections ought first to be directed towards this negative element, separation. It is well to note at the outset that separation from parents and relatives is not easy. It is very difficult indeed. Nevertheless, it is a mistake for religious to think that only they are called upon to make this sacrifice. As a matter of fact, even children who marry must effect the same separation if their married life is to be a success. All the best psychological studies of failures in marriage stress the fact that one of the principal causes is the fact that one or both parties remain "tied to their mother's apron strings." The truth of this research merely illustrates the inspired words of Genesis (2:24): "Wherefore, a man shall leave father and mother and shall cleave to his wife." Married people must realize that they are starting a new family, and that they must break definitely with the old. The same is true of religious. In this matter of separation we have both the example and the words of Our Lord to show us the way. When He was twelve He permitted the hearts of those He loved most dearly to be filled with anguish because He must be about His Father's business. Years later He parted definitely with the finest of mothers and the best of com-panions in order to give Himself to three tireless years of His Father's business and to climax it all with His crucifixion. And He confirmed 237 GERALD KELLY this example by strong words about the need of separation. In Matthew (10:37) we read: "He the( loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." And in Luke (14:26) are the even stronger words: "If any man come to me and hate not his father and mother and wife and children and brethren and sisters, yea and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple." It is obvious that, despite the force of His words, Our Lord is not telling us that we must tear the love of parents and relatives out of our hearts. His own love for His Mother was deep, intense, and tender; and it remained so all His life. Yet it would have been an imperfect thing, and unworthy of Him, had it urged Him to stay with her one moment longer than the divine plan permitted, or had it been allowed in any way to interfere with His apostolate. This is the model of our own affection for parents and relatives. We are supposed to love them. We are bound to them by ties of blood and gratitude. But the love must be well ordered. It must not interfere, even slightly, with the purpose of our religious life, for to achieve that purpose is our Father's business. From the beginning of our r~ligious life we have to set ourselves resolutely to accomplish the physicai and mental separation from parents and relatives that allows us to give ourselves quietly and wholeheartedly to our religious duties. And one of the first and most important lessons we must learn is to entrust our dear ones to Divine Providence. It often happens that a religious has hardly entered the novitiate when he begins to receive distressing news from home. Father has lost his job; mother needs a serious operation; a baby niece has diphtheria; a nephew was in a terrible accident; the black sheep of the family has got .into some new trouble. News of this kind will be more or less frequent all through our religious lives. Unless we adjust ourselves properly to it, it can be the source of constant anxiety that spoils our mental prayer, diminishes the efficiency of our work, and even tempts us to abandon our religious vocation. Of course, it isn't easy to rid oneself of such anxiety. We cannot just.say, "I won't be anxious," and thus put all the worrisome thoughts to rout. But in a positive way we can cultivate the attitude that in leaving parents and relatives, we are putting them into the hands of God, and that if we give our thc~ughts to God and our own vocation, God'will take care of our dear ones. After all, we are not the only ones who need a great trust in Divine Providence. Letter-writing is another test of w.ell-ordered love of parents and 238 8eptembec, 1950 ON I~AMIL~ SPIRIT relatives. It is one thing for a young religious to write home every day; another to write so seldom that parents can justly complain of neglect. It is one thing to write pages and pages of small talk: another to write, "Dear Morn: I'm fine; hope you're the same. Love." These examples are extremes; but not entirely fictional. It is well for religious to cultivate the habit of writing home at regular intervals and to keep that habit as long as ~heir parents are living. The letters need not be long, but they should not be too short, either. A letter is neither a book nor a telegram. We should try to make our letters interesting, without at the same time revealing details that should be kept within the privacy of our community or of telling things that might cause needless worry. There are some mothers who, if they heard their beloved daughter had a sore knee, would immediately think in terms of an amputation. We learn through experience that innocent remarks in letters can easily assume explosive proportions. When I was a young religious I went to the hospital" for a check-up that was little more than routine. I mentioned this fact casually in a letter to a devoted aunt. Three weeks later my superior called me to his room. In his hand was a telegram from the same devoted aunt. She had just heard that her nephew had only a short time to live and she wondered whether she should come at once. That was the first news I had of my desperate condition. Upon investigation, I found that my aunt had told a friend of my check-up, and this friend had told another friend, and so on; and as the news passed from friend to friend my condi-tion grew steadily worse. Finally the original news, transformed by the ghastly details of my incurability, got back to my aunt. Then there are visits. Some time ago I presided at a discussion group made up of mistresses of novices and postulants of various institutes. One of the points discussed concerned the visits to pos-tulants and novices b.y parents and relatives. The customs varied greatly. One of the institutes simply has the absolute custom: no visits till first vows--and this institute has.a two-year novitiate. I am not exaggerating when I say that all the other novice-and postulant-mistresses gasped with envy when they heard this. All agreed that, hard though it seemed, this would be the ideal arrange-ment. All complained that when visits are allowed the day after the visit is like beginning the postulancy or novitiate over again. Some may disagree with me, but I think the religious who is stationed far from home is blest. This is true of monastic institutes because it prevents too much visiting from relatives. And it is even 239 GERALD KELLY Review for Religious more true of other institutes, for it not only prgvents the visiting on the part of relatives, but it helps to preserve in the religious himself the perfect interior liberty which keeps him at the free disposition of superiors. They can send him where he is most needed or most useful without fear of opposition. Occasionally there are good reasons for being stationed near one's home; but such reasons are rather rare and are usually of short dura-tion. Yet it is not unknown that some religious are ingenious at conjuring up reasons why they should be stationed in the shadow of their own home. And sometimes the relatives themselves exert pres-sure to this effect. These relatives have no ill will. They simply do not understand the nature of the religious life; and they need to be set right on this point. The religious who wants to be'a perfectly pliable instrument in the hands of God should not leave the burden of explanation to superiors. He ought himself to assume the respon-sibility of pointing out to his relatives that, in entering religion, he placed himself at the disposal of superiors, and that he wants to work where they think he should work. Living the New The preceding points could be amplified and similar ones added. But, since I have undertaken this article with the purpose of stressing the positive aspect of our family life, I wish to devote most of my space to the elements that contribute to genuine family living in religion. ' The first of these positive elements is paternal government. Some-one has said that government is paternal when it manifests the "gentleness, kindliness, and love of Christ." No doubt that expresses the idea most beautifully; yet, unless we translate "paternal" into terms of ordinary family life, we shall remain in the sphere of mere theory. A good father is supposed to be solicitous for each member of his family, while at the same time seeking the common good of the entire family. This is not easily accomplished even in a family of five or six children; it is certainly much more difficult in a religious community of ten, twenty, thirty, and even more subjects. Never-theless the ideal is there; and it cannot be lowered without prejudice to true family life. This ideal clearly rules out favoritism, as that word is ordinarily understood. But it hardly means that a superior cannot have any especially intimate friends within his community. It is commonly 240 September, 1950 ON FAMILY SPIRIT said that Our Lord had a special regard for St. John; yet no one would dare accuse Him of favoritism. In the best families, parents often have a special love for one child without in any sense neglecting the others. They do not love the others less because they love him more. _And we ourselves, as subjects, often have warm, intimate friendships with a few members of our community without in any way diminishing the charityw'e owe the others. This is human. Supe-riors do not (or should not) cease to be human when they take office. Nevertheless, special friendships present a danger; and superiors, even more than others, must guard, against the danger. Any superior who gives his friends privileges he would not give others, who violates confidences to satisfy their curiosity, who neglects the others Of his community to be with them, who allows them to have undue influence in the managing of the community is certain.ly not governing paternally. Solicitude for the individual must always be subordinated to the interests of the group. All of us, even without having been supe-riors, must have experienced at times the difficulty of living up to this standard. A teacher may have a boy in his class, a thoroughly like-able lad, who is constantly a drawback to the rest of the class in studies and in discipline. Or a prefect may have discovered that a youngster has been stealing or has other bad habits that are infecting the group; and he may be torn between the two unpleasant alterna-tives of having this boy dismissed with the probability that he will not go to another Catholic school or of keeping him in the school with risk of great harm to the others. In problems such as these the ultimate solution must be in terms of the greater good-~and that is usually the common good. We should do all we can to save the individual boy, but not at the expense of the group. And the supe-rior has to solve the similar problems that arise in community life in the same way. He will show great sympathy and tolerance for the wayward or cantankerous subject. But this tolerance has its just limit. The community has a right to its good name and to peaceful living; and its right should not be jeopardized for the individual. A good father likes to be with his family. Every institute, I suppose, prescribes that the superior be present at community meals and community recreations and that he stay home most of the time. This is not merely for the sake of discipline: it is a requisite for good family life. I might suggest, though, that the expression "most of the time" be emphasized. A wise old Father once remarked that a good superior will make it a point to get away from his community 241 GERALD KELLY Ret~iew for Reliqious occasionally. It is good for both the superior and the community. It is clearly a case in which "absence makes the heart grow fonder." And this is also true of ordinary family life. When parents get away occasionally both they and the children benefit by it. When we look back on our childhood, one of the things that very likely strikes us forcibly is the memory of how our parents adjusted themselves to us. When with us they lived in our world, the child's world; and they did not try to force us into theirs. I think that this fact helps to illustrate the full meaning of paternal government in religion. The good superior seeks the interests of his community; he lives in their world, not his own. For instance, he does not monopolize recreation with his own topics of conversation. Or, to put the same example in another way: he does not recreate the brethren; he recreates with the brethren. Paternal government neces- ¯ sarily implies that the superior look upon the members of his com-munity as his children. This is obvious; the correlative of "parent" is "child." But "child" in this context means "son or daughter"; it does not mean an infant or even an adolescent. The paternal supe-rior, therefore, treats his subjects as adults. He has respect for their age, their dignity, and their talents. Many other things could be said about the paternal superior. He can be stern; he is never harsh. He fosters religious idealism by his good example. He is a good provider in accordance with the means at his disposal and the purpose of his institute. He makes sure that his subjects have plenty of time to see him. He tries to employ them according to their strength and their talents. He encourages them to develop their talents for the good of the institute and ultimately for the greater glory of God. And so forth. I cannot develop these points without converting this into an article entitled, "How to be a good superior"-~by one who has ne~er been a superior. The next topic concerns us, the subjects. On the basis of experi-ence, I.should know much more about this. However, it is~rather human to know 'more about the other fellow's job. A friend of mine who was appointed a superior several years ago made a very appro-priate speech on the night of his installation. "A week ago," he said, "I knew everything a superior ought to do. Tonight I'm not so sure." In terms of the religious family, the correlative of paternal gov-ernment is filial confidence. This expression is not easily explained. It seems to signify something that we recognize almost instinctively --like the taste of chocolate--yet are only faintly able to describe. 242 September, 1950 ON FAMILY SPIRIT fundamental element seems to be confidence in the superior's judg-ment. And by this I am riot.referring to the fact that he is in the place of Christ. That tells me merely that I am right in obeying him: it does not tell me he is right in commanding. Religious life would be nothing short of a continuous miracle if all of us lived it day after day and year after year With the conviction that the supe-rior is wrong, but we are right. For ordinary peaceful living we need the confidence that at least generally speaking the superiors are right, that they govern well, that their natural judgment is good. We needn't endow superiors with either infallibility or impeccability in order to gain this confidence. If we may judge from the content of several anonymous letters sent to this review, some religious think that the first requisite for becoming and remaining a superior is stupidity. The attitude of such religious is not readily diagnosed. Perhaps the cause is indigestion, or sleeplessness, or some mental maladjustment. At any rate, it is certainly pathological. And we can all thank God for that: for, if that attitude represented the normal outlook of religious subjects, we should be in a sorry state. I am not saying there are no bad superiors--no unrealists, no martinets, no tyrants amongst them. But I do say most emphatically that there are enough good ones for us to preserve our confidence in the institution, even on a natural basis. And I believe that in saying this I am expressing the view of the general run of religious subjects. As a group we have a basic confidence that our superiors govern well. This does not mean that we do not occasionally, or even frequently, think we could plan things better. Nor does it mean that we never criticize. Most of us, no doubt, indulge in enough criticism of supe-riors to provide matter for a periodic particular examen, for confes-sion, and for good resolutions. We can and we should improve. Nevertheless, some criticism, provided it is not too frequent and especially that it is not bitter, is no major impediment to family life. In considering the paternal-filial relationship, reference, to the manifestation of conscience is inevitable. As has been remarked more than once in these pages, the fact that the Church has forbidden supe-riors to demand a manifestation'of conscience has been stressed to such an extent as to lead many religious to think that their conscience is simply none of the superior's business. The very nature of reli-gious .government shows this to be absurd. Superiors are supposed to assign subjects to places and offices in such a way that the individ-uals can save and sanctify their souls and that the general good of the 243 GERALD KELLY Reoieto t~or Religious institute is promoted. An assignment which defeats either of these ends defeats the purpose of the religious life itself. Yet, how is a superior to make a wise and provident disposition of subjects according to the two-fold purpose of the religious life unless he has an intimate knowledge of his subjects? And how is he to get this knowledge adequately without the help of perfect candor on the part of the subjects? It is very saddening to hear a religious whose assignment is actually proving his spiritual ruin, say: "I just couldn't tell my superior about this difficulty." The fault may be his; and it may be his superior's: in either case, the condition is lamentable and should never have been allowed to develop. Perhaps both superiors and subjects could profit by reflecting on the fol-lowing words of a saintly and experienced spiritual director: "Nothing helps so effectually to engender a paternal attitude toward a subject as the account of conscience; for, when I open my heart to my superior I constrain him to take a fatherly attitude toward me and a fatherly interest in my welfare. Thereafter he cannot remain just my superior if he be a man of normal humanity. Then, this bestowal of my inmost confidence upon my superior will be powerful to effect in my soul the reciprocal relation of filial trust and love. Conversely, when I withhold my confidence from the superior and refuse to open my heart to him, I make his position diffi-cult as far as fatherly feeling is concerned. Sometimes our superiors may seem to us to lack paternal interest. The fault may be theirs; but likewise it may be ours, due to the fact that we have never given them our confidence." Paternal government and filial confidence are the constituent ele-ments of family life in the superior-subject relationship. The third element is the bond of union among the members. ,~,11 that we gen-erally say concerning fraternal charity pertains to the explanation of this element. I shall content myself here with pointing out a few things that seem to have special relevance to our "family" charity. In our mutual relationships there ought to be no quarreling, no offensive teasing, no harsh words. This certainly is the ideal of our charity. Yet, ~i wholesome family spirit can exist among us without perfection in this ideal. Consider again the analogy with the good natural family. The brothers and sisters squabble a bit; the parents lose their tempers occasionally. But they "make up fast"--as the saying goes; a short time after the explosive incidents everyone is acting as if nothing disagreeable had happened. To strive for this is perhaps to have a more realistic goal in our community relationships. 244 ON FAMILY SPIRIT Despite the noblest of resolutions, we get out of sorts, and we fly off the handle. Given a group of normal human beings, these things can hardly be avoided entirely in the close associations that make up community living. But we can certainly avoid prolonged teasing that hurts, continued bickering, harboring grudges, and so forth. These are things that deeply wound family spirit. Our goal, therefore, is to love the members of our community in much the same way as the members of a good Catholic family love one another. It is hardly possible to accomplish this perfectly. There is truth in the old maxim that "blood will tell." On the purely natural plane it is often easy to preserve an intense affection for our blood brothers and sisters even when they possess characteristics that o'thers consider unpleasant. In our dealing with others, even with fellow religious, there is much greaterneed of explicitl~r stimulating motives for love. Certainly there are many powerful motives for mutual love among religious. One of these was expressed graphically by a mili-tary chaplain when he returned to his community after the last war: "You don't know how good it is to sit at table again with a group of men who are all in the state of grace!". These are startling words --perhaps even a bit exaggerated. Yet, isn't it true that they express a profound reason why there should be great peace in the companion-ship of religious? Day after day all of us say Mass or receive Holy Communion--a reasonably sure practical sign that we are living habitually in the friendship of God. There are many saintly people outside of religion, and many others who, if not canonizable, do live constantly in the state of grace. But there are many others who are unjust, obscene, blasphemous; and even good people in the World can scarcely avoid their companionship. In religion our lives and our recreations are spent with companions who, despite many small and irritating faults, are substantially good. Their supernatural goodness is not the only reason why the companionship of religious should be enjoyable. Even on the natural level religious are apt to have more likeable qualities than any average group of the laity. At any rate, that ought to be the case; we are screened for especially undesirable qualities when we apply for admission as well as on the occasions of our .vows. It is true that most of us look back and wonder how we passed the screening; and those of us who entered before the days of intelligence and per-sonality tests may frankly admit in the secrecy of our hearts that, if these tests had existed in our day, we should not have made the 245 GERALD KELLY Reuieu~ for Reliqiou~ grade. No doubt, despite all the screening, some serious mistakes are made. Some pass through t~he screening processes who later become real menaces to community life. But the general percentage of com-panionable characters should be and is much higher than would be found elsewhere. I mentioned before that it is not uncommon for children of the same family to fight among themselves. I have seen two small' boys, brothers, literally mauling each other over the possession of a small wagon. Then another boy appeared and attempted to align himself with one party. But the brothers would have none of that! In a flash their own quarrel was ended and they were united against the intruder. This is typical of good family life. No matter how much the members fight among themselves, they present a united front to outsiders. We religious should have that spirit of family loyalty. In some sense, at least, each of us must have looked on his own ¯ institute as the "best of all" when he entered religion; otherwise we would have joined another. Certainly it is the "best" for us now; and it is not only legitimate but laudable for us to foster a spirit of preferential love. I think it was St. Francis de Sales who sa'id: "For us there is no congregation more worthy of love and more desirable than ours, since Our Lord has willed that it should be our country and our bark of salvation." I have heard that Sisters attending summer school show great interest in the habits of other institutes and that sometimes they exchange habits. But they return to their own with the serene con-viction that, though the others have some good points, theirs is the best. This is not narrow-mindedness. A young man may have the most profound respect for other women yet very reasonably look upon his own mother as the best in the world. So, too, religious may have great esteem for the members, the habits, the customs, and the work of other institutes, yet they prefer and treasure their own above all the others. The well-ordered love of one's institute will not, however, blind us to its deficiencies, or prevent us from trying by legitimate methods to improve its customs. No institute is so perfect as to exclude the need of occasional changes, especially in non-essentials. It is not true loyalty, but sheer obstinacy, that urges us to hold fast to old things just because they are old; that resists any reasonable modi-fication in the habit or any change of customs. Even the general laws of the Church are not so perfect as to exclude change. Family loyalty will not blind us to the defects of our brethren; 246 September, 1950 ON F!kMILY SPIRIT but it will certainly prevent us from criticizing either our brethren or our institute to outsiders. These things are family secrets; outsiders have no right to know them. I am referring here to criticism of one's superiors or fell0w-religious before the boys or girls in school, before the nurses in training, before the p~rish priest, or before the men and women in the parish, and so forth. To reveal to such per-sons the real faults of the community is detraction; and to misrepre-sent the community is calumny. And the harm done by such gossip easily assumes serious proportions. In censuring disloyal speech, I am not thinking of revelations made to canonical visitors or of the unburdening of one's conscience in confession. The canonical visitor is deputed by the Church to ask questions, and in his exercise of this function he is not to be con-sidered an "outsider." The confessor is bound by the most absolute of secrets; and the community is sufficiently protected against harm, even when the religious, in explaining his faults or trials, must inci-dentally refer to the misconduct of others. Further Practical Suggestions I have tried to keep my explanation of the constituents of reli-gious family life from being too theoretical, and I hope I have suc-ceeded to some extent. I should like now to increase the practicality of this article by suggesting a few concrete ways of contributing to the family spirit of our institutes and communities. The purpose of a religious institute is to carry on the work assigned to it by the Church and thus honor God and further His kingdom in the souls of men. In the ordinary providence of God, the supernatural efficiency of the institute depends on its holiness, and this holiness is not some abstract thing; it is, concretely" speaking, the sum total of the holiness of the members. It is very true, there-fore, that each member can say: "The holier I am, the holier is my institute." This truth should be a source of great inspiration and encourage-ment to all religious who are devoted to their religious family. For, in the matter of holiness there is no distinction of grade or work. The general, the provincial, the local superior, the teacher, the nurse, the dean, the housekeeper, the cook, the sick, the retired, the contem-pla. tive, and so forth--all have an equal opportunity of promoting the family cause through an increase of holiness. The saintly cook, therefore, makes a much finer contribution to the most exalted pur-pose of his institute than does the tepid preacher or the worldly 247 GERALD KELLY Review ?or Reliqious teacher. Holiness, of course, includes the whole of one's life--prayer, work, suffering, and so forth--but it refers particularly to the interior life of prayer and penance. In these interior things every religious has great power to help his institute. For one thing, it is the interior spirit that gives the real supernatural value to our own work. Moreover, the interior life of one can have a tremendous influence on the apostolic, work of the others; and it is well for the contemplatives, for those who do the hidden, humble works, and for those who are ill or retired, to note this. This last point is of supreme importance, and I should like to illustrate it by a simple example. A priest seldom goes on'a mission, rarely enters the confessional, without the realization that he may have to de~l with some souls who are "stubborn" or "weak," souls that desperately need superabundant grace for their conversion and salvation. Some of these people seem to have the kind of devil that Our Lord said is driven out only by prayer and fasting. Yet they themselves are too weak or too hard to do the required prayer and fasting. If they are to be saved, someone must do it for them-- at least enough so that they will finally respond to the grace that enables them to carry on for themselves. ~Fhe priest, despite the best of intentions, cannot do it all. On occasions like this, I have always rejoiced in the realization that I have a n~amber of friends who gladly offer some of their pray-ers and sufferings for my apostolate. Shortly after my ordination I was privileged to meet a saintly nun, Sister Agnesetta, of the Sisters of Loretto. We became fast friends, and she was a great help to me until the day of her death. As a young Sister she had been reduced to the state of a helpless cripple. During her last years she could barely lift her tiny knotted hand to blow a whistle when she needed help. Exteriorly she was so cheerful that a casual visitor would think she enjoyed being bedridden. Yet interiorly, for upwards of twenty years she felt not only the physical pain of her illness but the much greater crucifixion of frustration, of "being on the shelf." I cannot express how much it meant to me to begin some apostolic work with the knowlkdge that some of her prayers and sufferings were being offered for me. I have mentioned Sister Agnesetta by name because she has gone to her reward and cannot be embarrassed by my words. I could mention many others and of different institutes, if they were not still living. And I imagine that every priest could do the same. 248 September, 1950 ON FAMILY SPIRIT What has all this to do with family spirit? The answer, at least as regards active institutes, seems obvious. For in the various active institutes, there are teachers who are trying to win wayward pupils, nurses who are trying to bring about deathbed conversions, preachers who must stir the hearts of the impenitent, confessors who must draw penitents away from habits of sin. These and others exercising the apostolate need supernatural help. And what is more natural than that they look for this help from the members of their own institute? I do not mean that our vision should not take in the whole Church, with its entire apostolate; I simply mean that our own institute should normally have the first place in our apostolic intentions. My remaining suggestions will be very brief. First, there is our work. The work of a religious institute is teamwork; it is not the accomplishment of any individual. Each of us contributes to the cause; and it is only by the complete co-operative effort that the desired result is accomplished. In terms of family spirit, this is another consoling truth. It makes each of us realize that his job is important. Then there is charity. The finest act of charity a religious can show his brethren is good example. All of us know the force of example: how easy it is, for instance, to keep the rule of silence when everyone else observes it; and how difficult it is when even a few neglect it. And, speaking of example, I must at least mention our dealings with externs. They are prone to judge a whole institute by one member: hence each member has a tremendous responsibility to his religious family when he deals with them. The religious with true devotion to his institute will always try to act in the presence of externs in such a way as to cause them to esteem his community and his institute. Also, as regards charity, there is the matter of mutual correction. The very fact that we are a family gives each of us an added respon-sibility for the welfare of the others and, of course, for the reputation of the institute. In a family, when one of the children is making a fool out of himself, the other children tell him or their parents about it; and, observing the sound principles of fraternal correction, we religious have to do the same thing. Sometimes religious note that one of their brethren is on the verge of giving great scandal, yet they say nothing either to the individual or to superiors. This is shirking responsibility, a gross form of family disloyalty. Poverty offers a fertile field for the family spirit. The religious 249 GERALD KELLY Review [or Religious who fully realizes that community life is a sharing enterprise--that "he lives off the community, and the community lives off him," as the saying goes--will not refuse gifts just because he "would have'to turn them in," will not spend his time calculating how he might add some gift to his superfluities without sinning seriously against pov-erty. How would we live if no one were willing to. "turn things in"? And in a natural family, would it not be a strange father or mother or sister or brother who would refuse a generous gift because, "Really, I don't need it for myself; all I could do with it is give it to the family" ? Religious with a family spirit do not waste things. They do not leave it to someone else to turn off a radiator when heat isn't needed, to close a window when it is letting in too much cold air or when a storm is brewing and floors or furniture would be ruined. They do not get books, clothing, and other things that they do not need. In other words, like the members of any poor family, they economize. Perhaps I should add, by way of parenthesis, that when I speak of the need of dconomy, I am thinking mostly in terms of men. I have often wondered how we men could get along on Sisters' salaries, or how we could crowd our books, wardrobes, and various junk boxes into the cells or (more often) dormitories that make up the living quarters of our convents, or how we should look were our clothes subjected to the frequent mendings that give Sisters' habits such a long life on this earth. In my religious life I have heard much about obedience, but after the first few years I seldom heard anything new. A few years ago, however, I did hear a retreat master say something new--at any rate, it was new to me. He said, "The obedient man is the available man." This brief statement expresses in a practical, concrete way the whole secret of religious obedience. Our strength lies in the fact that a supe-rior can dispose of us according to the common need; that he can command us, or ask us, or merely suggest to us, and he always finds us ready. We don't shirk a job; we don't dodge responsibility. Few things can be harder for a superior than to have to approach a sub-ject whex~ he knows his request will be greeted by eithe} a growl or an alibi; and I imagine that few things are sweeter for the superior than the realization that his community is composed of available sub-jects, religious who graciously accept any assignment at any time. One concluding remark. To foster our humility, we are often told that if we were gone our place would soon be filled and the 250 community would not even miss us. Perhaps that aspect of our life is sometimes overdone. Perhaps it is good for us to think occasion-ally of how important we are, of how much we, as individuals, mean to the community. The thought can be very inspiring. I trust that some of the suggestions made here will help to provide this inspi-ration. FOR YOUR INFORMATION (Continued from page 236) Questions Asked bg Sisters. It contains questions and answers first printed in a quarterly entitled Vocational Notes for'Sisters. This reprint contains the first htindred questions which appeared in the Notes during 1949 and 1950. The prudent, informative answers are by the Very Reverend Father Clarence, O.F.M.Cap., and the Rever-end Father Jude, O.F,M.Cap. It can be obtained for 15 cents a copy from: St. Anthony's Vocation Club, 220 Thirty-Seventh St., Pittsburgh 1, Pa. Medlco-Moral Problems Modern medicine faces us with numerous ethical problems. Many of these problems are thoroughly discussed in two booklets, Medico- Moral Problems, I and II, by Gerald Kelly, S.J. The booklets are published by The Catholic Hospital Association, 1438 South Grand Blvd., St. Louis 4, Mo. Prices on each booklet are: 50 cents a copy; 12 for $5.25; 50 for $20.00. The Catholic Hospital Association also publishes in pamphlet form Ethical and Religious Directives for Catholic Hospitals. This is the revised medico-moral code which is now used in a large num-ber of dioceses throughout the United States and Canada. Price: 25 cents a copy: 12 for $2.75; 50 for $10.00. Catholic Daily A group of Catholic journalists are planning to publish a daily newspaper dedicated to reporting the news of the da~r in the context ,6f Christianity. The projected publication date is October 10, 1950. For the staff of this paper, The Sun Herald, the work is a vocation, an apostolate. The founders of the new paper have incorporated as The Apos- (Continued on page 264) 251 Christ: Shows Us I-low !:o Win Friends Jerome Breunig, S.J. SINC, E it was first published about fifteen years ago, Dale Carne-gie s book, How to. Win Friends and Influence People, found millions of buyers and readers and has become one of the most popular works of non-fiction in our time. It is obvious to .religious who have read the book that Dale Carnegie has many good ideas which would help them practice the virtue Christ recommended above all. Equally obvious is the shallow humanitarian viev~point and the mercenary self-interest that is illustrated in most of the ex-ample}. Since many of the people with whom we come into contact - are influenced more by the humanitarian mentality of this book than by the mind that is in Christ Jesus, it'might be useful to observe how much better Christ can teach us how to win friends-~even according to Carnegie's rules. Carnegie gives six rules for making people like you: (1) become genuinely interested in other i~eople; (2) smile; (3) remember that a man's name is to him the sweetest and most important sound in the English language; (4) be a good listener; (5) talk in terms of the other man's interest; (6) make the other person feel important, and do it sincerely. ' But the very idea of making people like you may seem foreign to religious and a sordid thought. The religious works only for God, seeks to be unknown, sees in superiors and others "no one but only Jesus." True enough, but the loftiest supernatural motives should not be high-lighted in such a way that they crowd natural means out of the picture. Christ, the Religious of religious, worked onl~r for God's glory. "The things that please Him, I do." To do this more effectively He tried to make people not only like but love Him. How else explain the Cross! And when man's love grew cold, Christ did not hesitate to dramatize His desire to win men's love by wearing H~s Heart on His breast, announcing to the world through St. Margaret Mary: "Behold this Heart, which has "loved men so much and receives nothing in return but ingratitude and indifference." Christ was "genuinely interested in other people." He was 252 CHRIST SHOWS US HOW TO WIN FRIENDS moved with compassion for the multitudes because they were as sheep without a shepherd. He wept over ,Jerusalem. "How often would I ha,~e gathered together thy children, as the ben dotb gather her chickens under .her wings, and thou wouldst not." Christ's interest extended to individuals as well. He pitied the plight of the leper and healed him: "I will, be thou made clean." What interest He showed in Peter! On at least two occasions He insured a pros-perous catch of fish for him. At another time He cured his mother-in- law. Interest is also shown by prayers. "I have prayed for you that your faith fail you not." Genuine interest in others is a big step towards developing that mind that is in Christ ~lesus. It dispels uncharitable thoughts. "The only person who does not improve on acquaintance is self," observes Father Faber. The same writer notes that kindness is not too diffi-cult, for though there are many unkind minds there are hardly any unkind hearts and that a kind mind can be developed by thinking about, being interested in, others. A kind mind implies much thifiking about others without the thoughts being criticisms. A retreat master developed the same thought by the following illustra-tion. A caricaturist seizes on a character weakness and emphasizes it out of all prop.ortion, while the artist is careful to shade the weak-nesses and make the finer qualities stand out. And the artist always comes closer to a true likeness. Dale Carnegie makes much ot: the. smile, featuring Charles Schwab whose smile was literally a million-dollar one. The Evan-gelists do not record the obvious. There is no written record of Christ's sm.ile, yet there is no room for doubting.that Our Lord smiled when He looked up and saw Zacheus, who had to climb a tree to catch a glimpse, when the quick-witted Phoenician woman an-swered, "Even the whelps are permitted to gather the crumbs," and when He surprised the apostles with the miraculous draughts of fish. More important than the smile is what is behind it, the cheerful, light-hea.rted disposition. Christ was a man of sorrows, but He did not let that cast a gloom around Him. He brought cheer to .the wedding feast at.Cana, did not want the Apostles to fast "when the bridegroom was with them," and celebrated Matthew's joining up by eating and drinking with sinners. Christ's doctrine fosters afun-damentally 'cheerful .disposition. "Come to Me all you that labor and are burdened and I will refresh you." "My yoke is sweet, my burden light." "When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites." 253 ~EROME BREUNIG Ret~iew ~or Religious . Professional personality-developers insist on the practice of saying "Good Morning" to develop the smile. "Good Morning" leaves a smile on the face. Religious should not need to paint a smile by any artificial means. Religious should be the happiest peo-ple on earth, and they are. Smiles come readily. Humility, chastity, and charity thrive in an atmosphere of cheerfulness. The best "propaganda" for vocations is a cheerful religious. An old Father observed that the number of vocations from a particular school was. in exact proportion to the number of cheerful scholastics on the faculty. "Remember that a man's name is to him the sweetest and most important sound in the language." Jim Farley could call fifty thou-sand men by their first name. Christ could call fifty billion by their names. "I am the good shepherd," Christ said, "and I know mine and mine know me." The comparison to a shepherd has a special reference to knowing by name. Shepherds in Palestine then and now have a special name for each of their sheep. The sheep recognizes and answers when its name is called. True Christian charity rather than the wisdom of this genera-tion should prompt a religious to pay the personal respect implied in remembering and using another's name. It is disconcerting to find one who should know our name remembering only our face. The inability to remember another by name leaves the impression that he does not impinge our consciousness to any extent. Our Lord paid this mark of respect to His fellow men. Mary Magdalen did not recognize Christ on Easter morning until He said, "Mary." There are other instances. "Lazarus, come forth." "Martha, Martha." "Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me?" On His very first public appearance we find Christ fulfilling the next rule for winning friends: "Be a good listener. 'Encourage others to talk about themselves." On this occasion we observe Christ as a youth in the temple "listening to them and asking questions." Whenever his enemies were baffled by His wise answers, we always have the assurance that C~ist heard them out first. "Is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar? . Of which of. the seven will she be wife at the resurrection?" His enemies thought they had a sure enveloping. pincer movement only to find themselves suddenly disarmed, by the. wisdom of the answer. But in every instance Christ did not inter-rupt them until they had finished. A beautiful instance of encouraging others .to talk about them-selves is seen on the road to Emmaus. While the two disciples were September, 1950 CHRIST SHOWS US HOW TO WIN FRIENDS con;cersing and arguing together, Jesus drew near and went along with them. He began the conversation, "What are these discourses that you hold with one another as you walk, and are sad?" "Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem and hast not known the things that have been done there in these days?" "What things?" Our Lord encourages them. With kindly for-bearance He listens to the entire story. It is only after they have talked themselves out that He begins with Moses and the prophets and interprets to them the Scriptures. Perhaps Father Faber had Christ the Listener in mind when he wrote the paragraph on kind listening. "There is also a grace of kind listening as well as of kind speaking. Some listen with an abstracted air, which shows their thoughts are elsewhere. Or they seem to listen, but by wide answers and irrelevant questions show they have been occupied with their own thoughts, as being more interesting, at least in their own esti-mation, than what you have been saying. Some listen with a kind of importunate ferocity, which makes you feel that you are being put on trial, and that your auditor expects beforehand that you are going to tell him a lie, or to be inaccurate, or to say something of which h~ will disapprove, and that you must mind your expres-sions. Some hear you to the end, and then forthwith begin to talk to you about a similar exl~erience which has bet:allen themselves, making your case only an illustration of their own. Some, meaning to be kind, listen with such a determined, lively, violent attenti6n that you are uncomfortable, and the charm of conversation is at an end. Many persons whose manners will stand the test of speaking break down at once under the trial of listening. But all these things should be brought under the sweet influences of religion. Kind listening is often an air of the most delicate interior mortification and is a great assistance toward kind speaking." Christ, of course, is still listening. He listens to our prayers. He still hears, through His priests, our confessions. Christ "spoke in terms of the other man's interest." Without parables He did not speak to them. And the parables and illustra-tions were taken directly out of the lives ot: the listeners. Fishermen heard truths in terms of nets, farmers, of seed and crops, women, of house cleaning, etc. In the beatitudes Christ took what was closest to most of his hearers, poverty, suffering, lack of property, mourning, persecution, and showed how they could transform these liabilities into assets. 255 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religious Finally, tracing out the pattern of Carnegie, we observe that Christ "makes the other person feel important and He does it sin-cerely." "You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world." To Nathaniel, "A true Israelite in whom there is no guile." To Peter, "Thou are Peter and upon this rock I will build my church." John and James were called "Sons of Thunder." Christ has a more sublime way of making others appreciate their dignity. "We will come to him and make our abode with him." The dig-nity of a Christian! As St. Paul echoes and reechoes: "You are temples of God and the Spirit of God dwells within you." All of Dale Carnegie's ways to make people like you are merely applications of the golden rule, which is of divine origin. In fact, the golden rule was formulated by Christ Himself in His sermon on the mount. "All things whatsoever you would that men should do to you, do you also to them." Of course, Christ both in His example and His teaching (He began to do and to teach), shows other ways to make people like you. For instance, "Greater love than this no man has than that a man gives his life for another." Not only does Christ show us how to win friends. The supreme friend-winner sfipplies the necessary and only adequate and enduring motivation. He seems to make the final judgment at the end of the world hinge on what we do or don't do for others. "As long as yofi did it to the least of my brethren, you did it to Me." Book Reviews OUR WAY TO THE FATHER: Meditations for each day of the year in four volumes. By Leo M. Krenz, S.,J. Pp. xx -I- 518: 411; 535, 516. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1950. $15.00 (set of four volumes). In "An Apologia" introducing this rich four-volume series of meditations and readings the author gives an account of "the pur-pose, plan, and method of this course of meditations for religious." Besides that portion of the text which constitutes the meditation proper and is printed in large type there are added paragraphs which in many various ways supplement what is primarily proposed for reflection and prayer. To each meditation is prefixed'a preamble, 256 September, 1950 BOOK REVIEWS consisting usualIy of some verses from Scripture, to strike as it were the keynote that characterizes the exercise. There are always two preludes, three points, and a colloquy. It is highly distinctive of this meditation-course that very often in smaller print there are additions "intended to afford further helpful explanations; to sup- . ply more pointed applications; to furnish pertinent biblical, his-torical, ascetical, theological, or philosophical information; or even to satisfy longings for better knowledge of some puzzling dogmatic truth or fact . It is hoped that these supplementary notes and additions may do helpful service as welcome material for pertinent spiritual reading, and at times even for deep study and possibly for round-table discussion." This expedient of appending further develop-" ments helps the author to achieve what seems to be one of his leading preoccupations, namely, to provide religious who make use of these four hundred meditations with a carefully planned and elaborate exposition of a fairly complete system of spirituality, comprising both instruction and motivation. Hence this work could be used for devotional reading in a way and to an extent that would not be true of typical meditation books. A special effort is made to keep in mind the needs of both beginners and proficients in the religious life and in mental prayer. The ways in which Christ and the Apostles instructed their first disciples are consciously imitated with the design of proposing the highest ideals, of getting them practically accepted, and at the same time of pointing out the discrepancies that are only too likely to exist between the profession and the performance of religious men or women. The epistles of the New Testament are also used to learn and copy the method and means by which the Apostles sought to transform recent converts from Judaism or paganism into "be-lievers . doers . and lovers." With this touch of antiquity goes a peculiar flavor of modernity, in that the spiritual lessons of these volumes are studiously adapted to the conditions of our times and place. Evidently it is the author's most earnest and zealous hope that those who use these suggestions for prayerful reflection will. become just what, in accordance with the highest religious ideals and their own special vocation and under present-day circumstances, they ought to be. The theme dominating the whole series of medi-tations is that God is an infinitely good and great father and is inviting us to" an ever closer union with Him. --G. AUGUSTINE ELLARD, S.J. 257 BOOK REVIEWS Reoieto for Reti~ious THE HISTORY OF: THE POPES. By Ludwig yon Pastor. Translated by E. F. Peeler. Vol. 3S: Benedict XIV (1740-1758). Pp. xllv -I- 516. B. Herder Book Co., St. Louis, Missouri. $S.00. It surely seems like a return to normalcy when Herder resumes the publication of the English translation of Pastor's great'History. This is the very volume that Pastor was working on when death snatched the pen from his hand in 1928. But so much work had been done upon the pontificates up to and including Plus VI (d. 1799), that these materials were later rounded out and .published with the aid of several scholars named in the introduction. There are thus several additional volumes to appear in English; we trust their appearance will not be further unduly delayed. Those who want their Church history to be nothing but "edi-fying" stories had better not take up this volume; those who have enjoyed--and been built up--by the previous ones of the series, will know what to expect here. They will see a Pope, sixty-five at his election, eighty-three at his death, patiently, even light-heartedly governing the Church in a setting of unparalleled diplomatic black-mail. "Our pontificate," he once said, "will be famous for the injuries we suffer" (p. 111). He more than once described himself as "working with a pistol at his head" (p. 273), carrying on in the face of disappointments, insults, frustration. But by every conceivable concession he prevented for those eight-een years all the gigantic conflicts of the day from reaching the explosions that carrie not long afterwards. The chief interest of this volume turns on that slippery story of the ,lansenists, who for a long time had enjoyed immunity and pro-tection, particularly in Fiance, in their defiance of papal authority. Many different factors complicated the "straight" religious issue, but at every turn it was the Church in France that was torn to shreds by parlement and prelates, by Pompadour's open immorality, and Louis XV's blundering ineptitudes. As early as 1750 Parisians were calling themselves "Republicans," and a French bishop recalled in a pastoral letter that an English king had been beheaded in 1649 (p. 225). But as Benedict passed from the scene the 3ansenists were still in the ascendant, and the party's gre~atest hour, the Synod of Pistoia (1786-87), was still in the making. It is almost another preview of history that in the early years of this pontificate a group of people came together in Rome to plot the total destruction of the Society of,lesus (p. 390). One of those 258 September, 1950 BOOK REVIEWS plotters was a young man named Ricci, who later achieved a baleful fame by presiding at the Synod of Pistoia as its bishop. It is one of the ironies of history that he was a nephew of a General of the desuits he had helped to destroy, and who had died in prison in 1775. Even in the Sacred College there were those who said: "Hold Rome in check by Gallicanism, but Gallicanism by means of Rome" (p. 287). In Benedict's lifetime this conspiracy was. contained, but later on the Tanucci-Pombal-Choiseul p~essure, not to mention the monarchs they served, produced the suppression of 1773. Benedict XIV had a scholar's reputation, particularly in histori-cal and canonical fields, when he came to the papacy. His has been an enduring influence, as organizer, legislator, reformer. His regula-tions for beatifications and canonizations still govern those functions. He .was hailed as "the greatest of the canonists" (p. 298), even as Gu~ranger later said of him that no Pope had ever possessed such a knowledge of the Roman liturgy (p. 301). The book's final section, treating of the missions, handles two other famous controversies he settled: the Chinese Rites (duly 11, 1742) and those of Malabar (Sept. 12, 1744). In this connection it is regrettable that the translation mirrors conditions as they were twenty years ago, for, owing to prgfound changes in the religious mentality of the Orient, it is precisely these acts of Benedict XIV that have been changed in our day by Plus XI and Pius XII. But that was in the interval between the writing of the book and this English translation.--GERALD ]~LLARD, S.d. THE HOLY SEI: AT WORK. B~/Edward L. Hes÷on, C.S.C;. Pp. x~v + 188. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 1950. $2.50. This book gives us a popular but adequate explanation of how the Holy Father, supreme visible head of the Church, together with his Senate of Cardinals, governs the universal Church through the medium of the Roman Curia. After a brief introduction explaining the nature and meaning of the terms: Pope, Curia, and Cardinals, the author passes on to the most important part of the book--a one-hundred page account of the various Roman Congregations--in which he discusses the Con-gregations, first in general and then in particular, giving the origin, history, competency, and personnel of each. Part three does the same for the Tribunals ot: the Holy See: the Sacred Apostolic Penitentiary, the Supreme Tribunal of the Apostolic Signature, and the Sacred Roman Rota. The fourth and last section treats of the Offices of the 259 BOOK REVIEWS Revieu~ for Religious Holy See: the Apostolic Chancery, the Apostolic Datary, the Rev-erend Apostolic Chamber, the Secretariate of State with its associated Secretariates of Briefs to Princes, and of Latin Letters. A chapter on the Code of Canon Law, the official bod~ of ecclesiastical law for the Latin Church, and one on the election of a new Pope bring the work to a close. The Holy See at Work contains a wealth of interesting details, such as the process of a petition through one of the Congregations from beginning to end, the meaning of "the secret of the Holy Office," the appointment of bishops, the relation of the Churches of the Orient to the Latin Church, the various steps by which a diocesan religious congregation obtains the approval of the Holy See and becomes pontifical, the evolution of a mission from an apostolic prefecture to a diocese, steps to beatification and canonization, special procedure of the Sacred Penitentiary, process of a marriage case through the Rota, kinds of papal documents, the election of a new Pope. Priests and religious, as well as the interested laity, are indebted to Father Heston for having made all this information available in handy form and at a reasonable price. Twenty-two illustrations and three charts enhance the usefulness of the volume. --ADAM C. ELLIS, S.J. LITTLE MEDITATIONS ON THE HOLY EUCHARIST. By Rev. Thomas D. Williams. Pp. 319. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, Wis-consin. $3.50. The Holy Eucharist deserves our whole-hearted appreciation and highest esteem. Yet, because it is shrouded in mystery, and our senses fail to penetrate the veil which hides the Real Presence of Jesus on our altars, we often fail to value this priceless Gift of God as we should. How can we become thoroughly acquainted with so inestimable a treasure, how acquire a conscious security of faith? By frequently meditating on the Real Presence, on the value of Holy Communion, and on the significance of the Sacrifice of the Mass. To make this easy and attractive, Father Williams offers a short meditation for every day of the year on some phase of the Eucharistic mystery. These considerations, based on the words of Scripture and the teachings of theology, are so clear and simple, so attractive and devotional, that any one who ponders them slowly and prayerfully will continually grow in knowledge and love of the Holy Eucharist. The author makes excellent and practical use of Scripture texts, which lend a stimulating touch to every paragraph. Throughout 260 September, 1950 BOOK NOTICES we sense a mellow tone of ~olid piety, and nowhere is there the least evidence of sentithentality or pious exaggeration. We highly recom-mend the book for use in visiting the Blessed Sacrament. --HENRY WILLMERING, S.J. BOOK NOTICES WE LIVE WITH OUR EYES OPEN is a sequel to the earlier work by Dom Hubert van Zeller, O.S.B., which was entitled We Die Standir~g Up. In his first book Father van Zeller treated chiefly the obstacles encountered in the quest for holiness. In the thirty-nine essays of the present volume he centers our attention on the means to sanctity. Here as before the treatment of his theme is straightforward and stimulating. Most of the essays discuss the use of creatures, in-terior prayer, mysticism, asceticism, and the proper orientation of the virtue of love in general and as applied to the sacrament of matri-mony. (New York: Sheed ~ Ward, 1950. Pp. x -q- 172. $2.00.) Richelieu's France of the seventeenth century was the scene for the life and work of Charles de Condren, the second superior of the Oratory in France. M. V. Woodgate's CHARLES DE CONDREN iS not a mere pious biography in the old tradition, but a balanced, though brief, account of a very human, holy, and at times, weak personality. (Westminster, Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. xi + 155. $2.25.) LITURGICAL PRAYER: ITS HISTORY AND SPIRIT, by Msgr. Fer-nand Cabrol, O.S.B., is an offset reproduction of a liturgical classic which first apeared in its French original in 1900. It was later trans-lated by a Benedictine of Stanbrook in a 1921 edition. The litera-ture and the notes cited are, therefore, of the last years of the last cen-tury, but the text, by a man who could combine deep knowledge with popular presentation, is as timely now as when first written. (Westminster, Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. xiv -t- 382. $3.50.) The important role of congregations of religious women in the development of the Church, and especially of Catholic education, in the United States cannot be overemphasized. One of the latest his-torical studies dealing with this theme is Sister Maria Kostka Logue's SISTERS OF ST. JOSEPH OF PHILADELPHIA. This carefully docu- 261 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Reoieto for Religious mented, highly objective, and interesting work covers a century of growth and development of the Congregation in the eastern states from 1847 to 1947. (Westminster, Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. xii q- 380. $5.00.) Religious, by profession particularly interested in the hidden life of Christ with its message of self-effacement, obscurity and obedi-ence, should be grateful to Dr. Patrick J. Temple for PATTERN DIVINE: OUR LORD'S HIDDEN LIFE. This book fills a real need, for too many books on the childhood of Christ are either apologetic or piously exaggerated, while chapters in standard "Lives of Christ" are generally too meagre. Dr. Temple gives a detailed account of the exterior life of the Holy Family at Nazareth and presents the Jewish life, society and thought that affected the youthful Christ. Every page of the book is documented, and the explanations in the foot-notes justify the claim that the story of PATTERN DIVINE is not imaginative and fictitious, but sober truth and reliable fact. The devotional tone, which pervades the whole account, is conspicuous in a concluding summary paragraph for each chapter. A very copious bibliography and a detailed index are additional assets of the work. (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Company, 1950. Pp. xii-k 389. $5.00) PRAYER FOR _A_LL TIMES, by Pierre Charles, S. J., and trans-lated from the French by Maud Monahan, is a reprint of a spiritual classic that has already gone through seven editions. The publishers are to be congratulated for combining the former three separate vol-umes. into one. Each of the ninty-nine chapters of two and one half pages deals with some important point in the spiritual life. The book can be used either for spiritual reading or for points for medi-tation. One chapter at a time is sufficient since each chapter demands reflection, application, prayer. The deep spiritual insight and many practical suggestions are brought home in a kindly spirit and a graphic style. (Westminsier, Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. 328. $3.50.) BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS [For the most part, these notices are purely descriptive, based on a cursory exam-ination of the books listed.] THE GRAIL, St. Meinrad, Indiana. THE HOLY RULE OF ST. BENEDICT. Pp. xiv q- 95. $1.00 (paper) ; $2.00. (cloth). 262 September, 1950 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENT8 SAINT BENEDICT THE MAN. By Dom I. Ryelandt, O.S.B. Translated from the French by Rev. Patrick Shaughnessy, O.S.B. Pp. 102. $1.25. The first book, a second printing, besides the Rule contains a Short biographical sketch of St. Benedict by Aidan Cardinal Gasque~ and a sermon on the saint by Pope Pius XlI. The second contains three studies of the inner life, "the moral physiognomy," of St. Bene-dict. The studies are based on an analysis of his Rule, on St. Greg-ory the Great's life of th~ saint, and on a comparative study of St. Benedict and St. Francis de Sales. B. HERDER BOOK COMPANY, St. Louis, Missouri. CHRIST THE SAVIOR. By Rev. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, O.P. Translated by Dom Bede Rose, O.S.B. Pp. iv + 748. $9.00. This is the English edition of Ft. Lagrange's Latin textbook, DE CHRISTO SALVATORE, a commentary on the Third Part of St. Whomas's SUMMA THEOLOGICA. A thirty-page "Compendium of Mari-ology" rounds out the volume. ISTITUTO PADANO DI ARTI GRAFICHE, Rovigo, Italy IL DIRITTO DELLE RELIGIOSE. By Rev. Louis Fanfani, O.P. Pp. xxii + 346. L. 1500. This is the third edition of the author's Italian LAW FOR RELIGIOUS WOMEN based on his larger Latin work, DE IURE RELIGIOSORUM. "It has been brought up to date with the most recent decisions of the Holy See, and has been improved in some points by a more accurate exposition of the canons of the Code referring to religious women." NEWMAN PRESS, Westminster, Margland. REVOLUTION IN A CITY PARISH. By Abb4 G. Michonneau. Pp. xxi -~- 189. $2.50. The city parish is in the mission of France among the working class population in the Paris suburbs. A co-worker, Father H. Ch. Ch4ry, O.P., and the Abb4 discuss in dia-logue form the needs and difficulties, the objectives and methods in their missionary apostolate. SAINT PAUL AND APOSTOLIC WRITINGS. By Sebastian Bul-lough, O.P. Pp. xviii q- 338. $3.00. This latest volume in the series of Scripture textbooks for use in Catholic schools in England deals with the Pauline Epistles, the seven Catholic Epistles, and the Apocalypse. Ft. Bullough's exegesis and commentary provide a valuable background for a more intelligent and fruitful understand-ing of these important New Testament writings. 263 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Ret;ieto for Religious SERMON NOTES ON THE SUNDAY PROPERS. By Rev. F. H. Drinkwater. Pp. 119. $2.00. A reprint. The author derives useful themes from parts of the Mass propers exclusiye of the epistles and gospels. SOME RARE VIRTUES. By Raoul Plus, S.J. Translated from the French by Sister Mary Edgar Meyer, O.S.F. Pp. vi q- 213'. $1.75. All virtues are rare, but some that Fr. Plus treats of are especially rare, such as "Knowing how to be grateful," "Good use of time" and "Pity for the sick and afflicted." It is the first English publication of this work. THE. SUPPLICATION OF SOULS. By St,f Thomas More. Edited by Sister Mary Thecla, S.C. Pp. xiii -{- 187. $2.50. This book is Thomas More's refutation of the heretical work of Simon Fish,' SUPPLICATION FOR THE BEGGARS. This is an instance to prove Father J. J. Daly's remark "More's was the" only pen at the service of the Church to do battle in the vernacular against heresy." In the book St. Thomas defends the clergy against irreverent and unfair attack and upholds the doctrine on purgatory, making a moving ap-peal for the poor souls. The book is mostly, but not exclusively, of historical interest. FOR YOUR INFORMATION (Continued from page 251) tolic Press Association, a non-profit organization. One departure from existing journalism is the financing of the paper. Instead of advertising it will depend on circulation revenue. And for initial expenses the founders are enlisting the charity of those Catholics who believe there is a need for such a paper. There will be five issues weekly, and two editions: one local and one national. The national edition will be delivered by air cargo and should reach most subscribers on the day of publication. Prices for one year are: $14.00 for the national edition; $12.50 for the local. For the scale of prices on shorter terms, as well as for other informa-tion, write to: The Sun Herald, 702 East 12th St., Kansas City 6, Mo. Confessors' Patron St. Alphonsus Liguori, founder of the Redemptorists, has long (Continued on page 280) 264 ues!: ons Answers ~2 Im We wish to gain the Jubilee indulgence. Our local ordinary has made no pronouncement on the subject. Have our i:onfessors the authority to prescribe the necessary conditions for gaining this indulgence? Is it neces-sary to go to confession and to receive Holy Communion each time? As Father Bergh pointed out in his article on "The Holy Year of 1950" in the January number of the Reuieto, the general require-ments for gaining the Jubilee indulgence in Rome are: reception of the sacraments of Penance and.the Eucharist,-and visits to the four major Roman basilicas in which certain prescribed prayers must be said. Outside Rome, for those who are entitled by way of exception to gain the Jubilee indulgence at home (all women religious among others), the local ordinary or any confessor delegated by him may substitute other works, of religion, piety, and charity in place of the visits to the four Roman basilicas. In places where the local ordinary has, made no provision, confessors may presume that they have received tacit delegation to make the substitution. Confession and Holy Communion are required for each gaining of the indulgence. ~22m Is it in accord with canon law for religious 1o be given permissibn ÷6 take trips during the summer if their relatives pay the expensesmeven if those trips are pilgrimages to Rome and to various shrines? The obligation to common life which is imposed upon all reli-gious by canon 594 forbids superiors to allow certain members of the community to take a trip (even though it be a pious pilgrimage) merely because parents, relatives, or friends are willing to pay the expenses. Common life requires that the community supply a reli-gious with whatever he needs, just as everything which comes to him as a religions must be put in the community funds. Common life also requires that, generally speaking, equal opportunities be given to all members of the community. Hence a superior could allow the members of his community to make a pious pilgrimage provided that he supplied the necessary expense money for such members of his community as do not have relatives or friends who are willing to pay for them. Again, the constitutions of the community would have to be consulted to see whether such trips, pious or otherwise, are allowed. An article explaining this matter of common life in 265 QUESTIONS AND ~NSWERS Review for Religious detail will be found in this Review for January, 1948, pp. 33-45. When we say that common life generally requires that equal opportunity be given to all, we do not mean that it is a~ainst com-mon life to allow certain privileges (like a pilgrimage) to jubilari-ans, to the perpetually professed, and so forth. In such cases, how-ever, the use of the privilege should be extended to the whole group and should not be limited to those who can procure the necessary funds from relatives or friends. --23- Has a meeting of provincial superiors presided over by the superior general and his councilors the authority to change a custom which has been observed in the congregation for over one hundred years, or is such a change reserved to the general, chapter? Only a general chapter can change customs which are common t~ a religious congregation. The constitutions could give the power to the superior general and his councilors, but this would have to be stated explicitly. --24~ What precisely are the Normae, so often referred to in leglslation for religious communities? How much authority is aHached to them? Must all constitutions and custom books of nuns conform to these Normae? About the year 1860 the Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars, then in charge of all religious orders and congregations, began to establish uniform regulations for the new religious congre-gations, especially of women, which were increasing in number. More or less uniform sets of constitutions were given to them on trial, until they took permanent shape for each congregation in the draft which was given final approval. In the course of forty years some things were changed, others were added, and some were dropped. These regulations, in the shape of a set of model constitutions for religious congregations with simple vows, were published on June 28, 1901 under the title of Norms according to which the Sacred Congregation o~ Bishops and Regulars is accustomed to proceed in the approval of new institutes with simple vows. The Normae did not establish any formal legislation for religious congregations, but were published for the sole use of the Sacred Congregation as a guide in the composition and construction of constitutions for new congre-gations with simple vows seeking the approval of the Holy See. Thus most of the congregations approved during the last part of the nine- 266 September, 1950 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS teenth century and first part of the twentieth (until the new Code of Canon Law in 1918) are based exclusively on the Normae. These old constitutions had to be revised in order to bring them into con-formity with the new Code of Canon Law. However, most of the matter contained in the Normae was incorporated into the Code, with modifications, omissions, and additions, of course. Hence the Normae are useful even today because they give us a better under-standing of the canons of the Code which deal with similar matters, as well as of the constitutions themselves in which the wording of the Normae has been retained in great part. To answer our question-: New constitutions and customs need not and should not conform to the old Normae but exclusively to the present Code of Canon Law. --25~ Is ÷here any difference in ÷he meanlncj and in the use of the followin9 words applicable to Sisters taken collectively: community, order, sister-hood, congregation, institute? In everyday life these general terms are used indiscriminately to signify a group of religious women. Canonically speaking, how-ever, there is a difference in their meaning, which is contained in the definitions provided for us in canon 488 of the Code. Thus: (1) An "institute" (religio) is any society, approved by legitimate ecclesiastical authority, the members of which tend to evangelical perfection, according to the laws proper to the society, by the profes: sion of public vows, whether perpetual or temporary. (2) An "order" is an institute whose members make profession of solemn vows. (3) A "religious congregation" or simply a "congregation" is an institute whose members make profession of simple vows only, whether perpetual or temporary. The canon does not define the terms "community" and "sisterhood," but it does define (4) "nuns" as religious women with solemn vows or, unless it appears other-wise from the nature of the case or from the context, religious women whose vows are normally solemn, but which, by a disposition of the Holy See, are simple in certain regions; whereas "sisters" are reli-gious women with simple vows. The term "community" is not used officially in canon law. It popularly indicates either an "institute," which is a general term in-cluding both orders and congregations, or it is used to identify a local group of religious, classified in canon law as a "religious house." "Sisterhood" is a popular term for an institute of religious women, 267 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS whether of nuns or of sisters, though technically it should be restricted to an institute of sisters only. 26 Do the words: rule, holy rule, constitutions, and customary, represent distinct thlncjs, or has the term "the rule" the same meanincj as "constitu-tions"? Technically the term '"Rule" always refers to one of four great rules which most religious orders followed down to the sixteenth century, and which they still follow, and which are followed by a number of modern religious congregations. These are: the Rule of St. Benedict, the Rule of St. Basil, the Rule of St. Augustine, and the Rule ot: St. Francis. To these four rules, which are stable and unchangeable, other regulations regarding details not contained in the rules have been added, and these additions were called "constitu-tions." In the sixteenth century the new orders of clerics regular who did not adopt any of the four great rules, introduced a new system whereby the fixed and stable parts of their legislation were called "constitutions" while other minor regulations which were changeable were called "rules." Modern congregations, even though they follow one of the four great rules, have a body of practical legislation known as "constitu-tions," and approved either by the local Ordinary or by the Holy See. Minor observances are called "regulations" or "rules." The term "customary," or "book of customs," and the like, indicate observances usually brought into being by custom or usage, first in one community, then in another, and finally in a whole insti-tute. These may be changed by a general chapter, but no general chapter has the right to change the constitutions approved by the Holy See or by the local ordinary. OUR CONTRIBUTORS P. DELETTER is a member of the faculty of St. Mary's theological college, Kurseong, India. WINFRID HERBST, writer, retreat master, former master ot~ nov-ices, is on the faculty of the Salvatorian Seminary, St. Nazianz, Wisconsin. GER-ALD KELLY and JEROME ]~REUNIG are members of the editorial board of the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS.Fr. Breunig succeeds Father Alfred Schneider as editorial secretary. 268 Report !:o Rome [In the following pages we conclude the publishing of the List of Questions to be answered in the quinquennial report by pontifical institutes. We have printed these questions, not only as an aid to superiors who must answer, them, but also as a means of giving all religious a better knowledge of the Church's law concerning religious. The questions are published exactly as they appear in the official English trans-lation. Questions marked with an asterisk (*) concern only institutes of men: those marked with a cross ('1") refer only to institutes of women. For information about the means of obtaining the copies of the questions, see p. 236.--ED.] ARTICLE III Coneernlncj those who have departed or been dismissed, and others who leave the Institute Concerning those who haue gone out from the Institute 248. a) How many in the Institute and in each Province, at the expiration of their vows did not renew them, either because they chose not to do so or because they were not allowed to do so. b) How many of the professed of temporary vows were dis-pensed during their vows, and how many of the professed of per-petual vows were dispensed. 249. Were those who were dispensed from tbeir vows at their own request or with their consent, forced, or without serious and grave reasons and precautions permitted, to leave the religious house before the rescript was duly executed. 250. How many transfers, if any, were there to another In-stitute. C6ncerning apostates and fugitiues 251. a) How many apostates and fugitives, if any, were there during the five-year period. b) Did the Society or Institute observe the provisions of law concerning apostates and fugitives, by seeking them (c. 645 § 2),and if this proved fruitless, by proceeding against them according to law, so that their juridical condition should be clearly defined. Were the provisions of law regarding those who came back observed (cc. 2385, 2386), and is watchful provision made for their spiritual good. Concerning those dismissed bg Superiors and those not admitted to profession 252. a) Since the last Report, how many of the professed of 269 REPORT TO ROME Review for Religious temporary v, ows and how many of the professed of perpetual vows have been dismissed, according to Provinces. b) In the dismissal of religious, whether of temporary or of perpetual vows, were the norms of the common law (cc. 647 § 2, 649-672) as well as those of the Constitutions observed. c) Was the same done in regard to not admitting the professed of temporary vows to the renewal of their vows or to perpetual profession (c. 637). 253. Were the dismissed of temporary vows, while the recourse duly made within ten days was pending (c. 647 § 2; S. C. of Reli-gious, 20 July 1923, AAS, XV, I923, p. 457), and the dismissed of perpetual vows, before the decree or judgment of dismissal had been confirmed by the Sacred Congregation (cc. 652, 666), forced to leave the Institute. 254. Are the dismissed who are not in sacred orders released from their vows by the dismissal (c. 669 § 1); and if the vows remain, does the Institute show solicitude regarding their condition (c. 672 § 1). Concerning those dismissed by the law itself and those sent back to the world 255. What were the cases, and the causes which led to them, for both the professed of temporary and those of perpetual vows, where they were either sent back to the world on account of grave scandal or very grave harm (co. 653, 668) or dismissed by the law itself (c. 646). 256. Were steps immediately taken according to the Code (cc. 646 § 2, 653, 668) to determine the condition of those dis-missed by the law itself and of those sent back to the world. 257. Is there any such person whose condition still r~mains undetermined. 258. What cases if any have occurred of the reduction to the lay state of religious who had received sacred orders; how many were voluntary and how many penal. Concerning those who were exctoistered 259. How many cases of exclaustration were there, if any; are the causes carefully and conscientiously pondered in the presence of God before the petition is recommended and the rescript executed. 260. Does the Institute take care: a) That if it seems necessary to ask for an extension of the 270 September, 1950 REPORT TO ROME indults, they be renewed in due time. b) That the persons who are excloistered lead a worthy reli-gious llfe and return as soon as possible to some house of the Insti-tute. 261". Likewise does the'Institute take care regarding those who have been secularized on trial, and regarding their return to religion if at the expiration of the three-year period the indult is not renewed or they are not accepted, by the Ordinary. Concerning absences from the house ¯ 262. Do Superiors see to it that subjects remain out of the house only for a just and grave reason and for the shortest possible time, according to the Constitutions (c. 606 § 2). 263. For absences which exceed six months, except for studies or ministries according to law and the Constitutions, was the permis-sion of the Holy See always obtained (c. 606 § 2). 264. Is it allowed by reason or under color of a vacation, that time be spent with one's parents or outside a house of the Institute. Concbrning the deceased 265. Were the prescribed suffrages faithfully and promptly per-formed for all the deceased. ARTICLE IV Concernincj the various classes and conditions of religlous § 1. - CONCERNING CLERICS (This is dealt with in the Report on formation and studies). § 2. - CONCERh~ING Conversi OR COADJUTORS Concerning their education and training 266. Do Superiors, in accordance with c. 509 § 2, 2° give to those religious who belong to the class of conversi, instruction in Christian doctrine; and do Superiors, both before and after their pro-fession but especially during the earlier years, carefully attend to their spiritual, intellectual, civil and technical education according to the functions which they have to fulfill. 267. Are the religious allowed to engage in works which do not seem to be suitable to the religious state. 268. Do Superiors with paternal charity diligently provide also for the bodily health of the conversi or coadjutors. 271 REPORT TO ROME § 3. CONCERNING THOSE WHO ARE APPLIED TO MILITARY SERVICE Concerning the profession of those who are to be called for the first time to active militarg service 269*. Did Superiors regulate according to the decrees of the Holy See the temporary professions of those who are to be called for the first time to active military service or its equivalent. 270*. Were perpetual professions permitted before the first active military service or its equivalent, to which the young men are liable to be called. Concerning the religious during their militarg service 271". a) Did Superiors take care of their members in the service, watch over their life, communicate frequently with them, requiring a periodical account of their conduct, their actions and exercises of piety, etc. b) What special means were used to secure their perseverance. 272*. In cases of dismissal for just and reasonable causes, or of voluntary s.eparation from the Institute, did the Major Superior fol-low the p~escribed procedure and faithfully conserve all the docu-ments in the Archives. Concerning the renewal of temporarg profession after military service and the making of perpetual profession 273*. For admission to the renewal of temporary profession, was everything done which is prescribed by the common law and in the decrees regarding this matter. 274*. Was the prescribed time of the temporary profession com-pleted after military service, and also the time of the temporary vows which is prescribed by law and by the Constitutions before the making of the perpetual profession. CHAPTER III CONCERNING THE WORKS AND MINISTRIES OF THE INSTITUTE ARTICLE I Concerning minis÷ties in general Concerning the special end and the works of the Institute in general 275. Were the ministries proper to the Institute abandoned or neglected. 276. Were any works engaged in which are not contained in the 272 September, 1950 REPORT TO ROME special end of the Institute; if so, with what permission was this done. Concerning abuses in the exercise of ministries 277. Were any abuses in the exercise of ministries introduced during this time; if so what were they. 278. Is all appearance of avarice carefully avoided on the occasion of ministries. 279. Was begging from door to door, according to law (cc. 621, 622) and the Constitutions, done with the required permissions. 280. Moreover, in begging, were the rules of law (c. 623), the instructions of the Holy See (c. 624) and the norms of the Consti-tutions observed. 281. By reason of or under pretext of ministries, are an excessive or too worldly communication with seculars and frequent and pro-longed absences from the religious house permitted. 282. What precautions are taken in this communication in order to avoid harm to the religious and scandal to seculars. Concerning difficulties with the secular clergy or with other Institutes, etc. because of the ministries 283. On the occasion of the ministries did any friction occur with ecclesiastical Superiors, with pastors and the secular clergy, with other Institutes or with Chaplains. What were the chief instances of such difficulties and where did they occur. 284. What probable reasons can be assigned for these difficulties. and what remedies can be suggested for their avoidance. ARTICLE II Concerning special ministries Concerning Missions among infidels and heretics 285. In the Missions, or in any one of them, did the religious life suffer any harm, and if so, what were the reasons for this. 286. What safeguards were used or should have been used so that in the apostolate the faithful observance of religious discipline and the care of one's own sanctification be better secured. 287*. In the Missions, is the internal religious Superior distinct. from the ecclesiastical Superior. 288*. Did this union of offices in the same person result in advantages or rather in disadvantages. 273 REPORT TO ROME Review for Religious Concerning Parishes, Churches and Sanctuaries 289*. For the incorporation or union of parishes, was an indult of the Holy See obtained, according to cc. 452 § 1, 1423 § 2, so that there should be a union or incorporation properly effected. 290*. In what form were Parishes united to the Institute: pleno iure (absolutely, at the will of the Holy See), in temporalibus, etc., and from what date. (A copy of the document should be sent if there is one). 291". Was an agreement made with the Ordinary of the place to accept any parish. (Send copies of the agreements made during the five-year period). 292*. How do Superiors watch over and assist those of their subjects who are pastors (c. 631 §§ I-2), and in case of need admonish and correct them. 293*. Was the office of local Superior ever united with that of pastor, observing c. 505; did this union give rise to difficulties, or was it on the contrary attended with good results. 294*. Did the Institute obtain from local Ordinaries that Churches or Sanctuaries should be entrusted to it; if so, with what permission and on what terms and conditions was this done. 295*. How do all Superiors see to it that religious discipline suffer no harm from the ministries engaged in by the religious in parishes or in public churche~ which are entrusted to them. Concerning Colleges, Schools and Seminaries 296,*. Has the Institute entrusted to it any Seminaries of clerics, and if so on what terms. (Documents and agreements entered into regarding this matter during the five-year period should be attached). 297*. In these Seminaries, are there any difficulties with the Ordi-naries, concerning either the religious life and discipline or the gov-ernment of the Seminary. 298*. What measures and efforts are employed toward the sound and thorough training and religious education of the students. 299. Are there houses for the residence of young people who are attending public schools. 300. In these cases is very special care taken to see that the schools are safe from the standpoint of both instruction and education; especially is a careful supervision maintained over the instruction and religious education; and if there are any deficiencies are they carefully remedied. 301t. Are there schools which are attended by both sexes; 274 September, 1950 REPORT TO ROME as regards fixing the age beyond which boys may not be admitted or retained, have the prescriptions made by the Ordinaries been observed. 302. Do Superiors strictly see to it that Rectors, Prefects, Teach-ers and Professors receive adequate preparation for their work: a) Scientifically, by acquiring knowledge which corresponds adequately to the grade of the class, and by obtaining degrees and certificates, even such as are recognized outside ecclesiastical circles. b) Pedagogically, by the study and practice of the art of teaching. c) Spiritually, so that they may exercise the office of teaching with a genuine zeal for souls and make it a means of sanctification for themselves and others. 303. Do Superiors carefuIly see to it that the work of teaching be properly harmonized with religious discipline. 304. Did they promptly remove from the office of teaching those who in practicing it make light of the religious life and are not a good example to the students. Concerning the practice of the corporal works of mercg 305. Does the Institute practice the corporal works of mercy toward the sick, orphans, the aged, etc. 306. Are there: a) Guest-houses and hospital

Issue 4.3 of the Review for Religious, 1945. ; MAy !'5, 1945"' ' ",, ris in rl÷|ncjs~ ampere " ~ ~v~ ~ '~ f~ -";~ ,~ ¯ 7ESUS CHEST IN ~THE WRITINGS OF R~MI~RE--.~" ~,7- '-~ "~ Dominic U~ger,.6.F.M~Cap: . ~. sMEDITATION, . BOOK~ , FOR MINOR~. ~S~MINAKIES Vo1. IV, No~ .3~ ~'/Publish~d 3~onthl¢; Jan~arg, Mar~h,'Mag July'September~and No~ember a~ ~h~ Cdlieg~iPres~ 606 H~ms~n Street, T~peka K~ns~s ~b~ St. Mar7 s College St. M~gs w~th ecclesiastical approbatton. Entered as~second class matter-Januar~ 15 1942 . at thvPost O~ce Topeka Kansas underthe act of ~arch 3+ 1879~' ~'~ *~ . ?"Edit0rih1.Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Au~usfifie Ellaid,. S.J., Getaid"Kelly, S J.~: Editorial-Secretary. Alfred F. Scfine~der S J ~ . : Coplright 19~ b7 Adam,C. Ellis: permission is hereb7 grantld for quotations 3"~" of reasonableTl¢ngth,, provided due credit, ,be given this review" and the' author. -("Subscription price: 2 'dollars a,year . ,? . . ~ " ~ ~rmte~ m.U.S;t~; .- ~ . . J' / 89)~.~, ~' Our deification is as certain ds the dogma of the divinity ~;, . bf Christ/of which it is the complement. oit is novmereiy "for itself-that ~l~e:'holy Hiamanity of Jesu.s" has ~e~ei~;ed, tfie ,,_ ~f-ul:nessof the di~Jinity through the personal union with the °~.~ -Wbrd,, bu~ als0.to make all humanity divine b~ granting'a :ihareiof Hii plenitude to all whowish to receige, His ~' ~ 'muni~tion. ~ Wh.en God ~redestined His own Son to be the :i'~7 ._ ¯ S0~a 0[ l~a~ry, "He p~e ~destined us t,o become His ~ad0pfed:sons ,b~y' union~with His onb/-begotten Son. (Ephes!gns~l:5). In becoming incarnate the" W;~d "of Gbd communk~(ed ¯ ~H.is di~iinity inca very personal manner to one soul and one ~ ,body in Christ. But his limitless love, embracing th~ whol~ _ world, mad~ it poss!ble for all,o .men toshare in-tha.tpartici- , . patton of the divine¯life. "His (Christ's) InCarnation ~a~ , -- no other end or aim, than to c6mmunicate His divine" life. ~ - to us: , ,~ . - But if-the'fulness 6f the diyinity!belongs.~shbstantially to.Jesus .- ~ Christ gl0ne (C01. 2:9), all who are united to Him by holy ba'ptis~rri .~'becoNe parta~kers in this fulness each according to his measure (John- ~ ~1:16),.: .-.,Ali o~iaer individual -natures belonging, to o~hd ia~e ~.~ Adaha shall be called, to unite themselve~ to-tBi~ privilqged nature, and to recei~'e by t'his union a very real communication,of its divine~iife. ¯ There shall be but one only, Go~d-Man: but" all men who. shal1~ be ~DOMINIC- UNGER~ Son of the~Heayenly :~E~th~r; but~all those.,who shall be willing-t~ receive~ thii~only Son shall becomethereby thd adopted sons of His Ffither add shall adqfiire - ,g s~rjct, right to share in H)s heavenly inhe/i(affce. "-(Tbe" Ap6stlesbip oLPr~g~r,,~p. 138: and The Laws o~ Prodidence, p. 90.)- ~ . ,"L It is possible for Christ to b~ the Head ~f all men and to i m~ke'~hem divine becahse.He is personally' unit~d"with Go~ ahd because He possesses the fulness of divine life. which He " fofcef~!y stated b~.Father Ram~{rd:- ~ . ~ Jesfis Christ is, therefore,.3n a ver~ real sense, the Head of huma~ ity ~nd of tile w~ole spiritual creation: .for from Him alone~do~s thd 'divine li~e ~our itself forth on angels and men, as really as animal lif~? ~s~reags' fr6m'the h~ad into every ~a[t pf our body." From Himhnd ~'flom Him alon~ proceed all supernatural acts which are d~ne 'io-heaven arid earth. We capnot acquire the least ;merit, do the least ~c~i'on,.conceive the least" thought,pronounce the least w~rd. in the supernatural order, if these different ~mov¢ments are not in-~ur hearts. *~througb~ an ~mpul~e'of His Divine~ Heart. This adorable ~art is 'for: all h~manity, in the order of grace, what ~he sun,.in ~fie physical okder, is for the earth and th~ 6ther planets which'gravitate~around it. - ~- The fact that Christ h~s, made it possibld --;_re~el~eHls o~n Bo'dyafid Blood in~the Eucfiari~t is ~an?- argument that He ifitend~d usto be divine. This union of -man~ith

Special Advent Issue of Volume 63 of the Review for Religious, 2004. ; .Sp~rttuality.Revtew, a supplcmcnt.of Rewew for Religious, is looki~g~i~6 facilita , , a~iitib aG oodg,. u:deia.loo~,e. within ~.,~ou"r s"elv aes~; d)ialo~e wi~th i~n:e anotbeg.~ s POpe.Paul~n Said, our ~ay, of beingchurcb # to~y the way qdialo~e. Spirituality Review, a supplement of Review for Religious, is published at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province twice a year during the Lent/Easter and Advent/Christmas seasons. Please send all correspondence to: Review for Religious; Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 See inside back cover for information on subscription rates to Review for Religious. Spirituality Review, a supplement of Review for Religious, is an interactive journal. We ask you, our readers, to give us your reactions and your suggestions. Please write to our address given above or fax: 314-977-7362 email us at: review@slu.edu * Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org ©2004 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material contained in this supplement issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, adver-tising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. S pi ituality eview Review .for Religious Supplement Editor David L. Fleming SJ Associate Editor Philip C. Fischer SJ Canonical Counsel Elizabeth McDonough OP Scripture Scope Eugene Hensell OSB Editorial Staff Mary Ann Foppe TracT Gramm Judy Sharp Webmaster Clare Boehmer ASC ~amer SM '-Iughes RSCJ Larkin OCarm .amgela Menard ry Steib SVD L~keritis CSJ ADVENT CHRISTMAS 2004 contents tracings reaching out Saint It! D.M. Flynn offers an overview of saints throughout history that challenges us to recognize the saints around us and to model saintliness for others. Reflection 13 expecting in hope l~ Imaging Isaiah David L. Fleming SJ suggests we meet the prophet Isaiah for his guidance through Advent. Prayer and Reflection Questions 17 remembering ~ Dismas's Dying Moments: Reflections on "Palpable Grace" Robert P. Maloney CM employs a type of lectio divina on the Lucan story of the "good thief" in order to offer some reflections on palpable grace. Prayer 23 expanding our world My Associates Robert North SJ enlarges our prayer by his suggestion of including "my associates," and he further explains the extent of this term. Prayer and Reflection Question SpiHt~ality Review ~.~,o mcmaea as a bonus A Spirituality fo: . orary Life:The Jesuit Heritage TodaCyo)n .t.e.m. p_ Prisms for a Christ-Life .@. .$1 Notes on the Spiritual Exercises @ God has imprinted upon all created things his traces, trail, or footsteps, so that the knowledge we have of his divine Majesty through created things seems nothing other than the sight of the feet of God. St. Francis de Sales Asking for help does not come easy for many adults. They mistakenly think that all mature persons (like themselves!) have all the resources they need. At the other extreme, there are peo-ple who are quick to condemn anyone who does not ask for help: "They are trying to be like a god, self-sufficient and not needing others." Yet our Christian understanding is that God, incarnate in Jesus, is one who asks for our help. In the New Testament, we see that Jesus sought out apostles and disciples and shared his mis-sion about the reign of God with them. Jesus was acting in continuity with God working with the Hebrew patriarchs Abraham and Moses and the kings David and Solomon and the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah. God is always reaching out and asking for our human help. This familiar thought expresses a deep truth: "God has no tracings Advent/Christntas 2004 Tracings hands but our hands, no other feet but our feet." That is the ordinary way that God reaches out to help others. The Christian belief in the communion of saints is based on our faith that God works with and through us to bring about the reign of God. We all are meant to help one another--those of us living now and those who have preceded us--and that is why we are the "commu-nion of saints." In our daily way of praying, we ask our brothers and sisters--canonized saints (especially our favorite ones) and family members, friends, teachers, and counselors (most of whom will never be officially rec-ognized as saints but helpful to us all the same)--for their support and intercessory aid as we travel our own life pilgrimage. Every Eucharist we celebrate brings home to us how we live as a faith community of sisters and brothers willing to ask for help, to provide help, and to receive the help that is offered. Asking for help is how we grow into being the body of Christ. Asking for help is how we grow in being like God. As editor, I want to thank our readers for helping us to improve this journal, Review for Religious. This Spirituality Review is the last regular supplement issue because it has served its purpose of getting feedback from you, our readers, through postcards and emails, about format and interactive-style changes that we will be including in Review for Religious. In the first issue of 2005, you will notice these adaptations. Spirituality Review facilitated the making of prudent changes in a revered and respected international journal sixty-plus years old. We are grateful for your help, and we hope that you will continue to find the pages of Review for Religious personally and apostolically enriching. David L. Fleming SJ Spirituality Review D.M. FLYNN Saint It! Every family has them. There are stories about the relative dubbed Daddy Fix-It. Without for-mal training he could repair anything from the children's toys to the family washing machine. Anecdotes about Nana are hardly lacking either. A European immigrant, she never mastered the complexities of English, but her family feasts surpassed the efforts of every gourmet chef in town. Then there are the tales of the frugal aunt and uncle who raised ten children. They sold their empty nest to buy an RV (recreational vehi-cle), then spent their wisdom years traveling around the country visiting family and friends. Yes, every family has them: the heroes who have gone on before us while their legends live on. Family members spend many enjoyable hours poring over photo albums and recalling such tales. These stories inspire us and help to shape our family heritage. In our increasingly D.M. Flynn, who wrote about Gregorian chant for us in 1999, may be addressed at 119 Royal Gardens Way; Brockport, New York 14420. reaching out ddvent/Cbristmas 2004 Flynn ¯ Saint I!! mobile society, they not only influence our identities, they impart a sense of unity. Perhaps that explains the popularity of genealogy in recent years. As our kinfolk uproot and transplant themselves, we feel the need to maintain our family tree. We seek roots in every sense of the word. Our Catholic family also has its heroes and their leg-ends: we call them saints. Their stories inspire us and shape our Catholic heritage. These tales testify to the kinds of lives that are appropriate for God's holy peo-ple. Our lineage spans thousands of years, making it impossible to trace all of it--not here, not ever. But the following pages give us a glimpse of our Judeo-Christian family album. Saints: Set Apart To the average Catholic, the word saint refers to deceased persons whom the church has officially canon-ized for their lives of service to God and their neigh-bors. But the canon--or list--of saints could not possibly include everyone who lived a life of virtue. Moreover, the definition of saint has evolved over the centuries. The word translated as saint from both Hebrew and Greek originally referred to gods, beings "set apart." The ancient Israelites viewed God as transcending his creation and therefore worthy of worship. They believed that God alone was "holy, sanctus," set apart ("sanctuar-ied"), distinct, unique. "Holiness" set God apart from the profane, the ordinary: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts" (Is 6:3). When God entered into a covenant with the Israelites, they were set apart from the other nations. "You are a people sacred to the Lord, your God; he has chosen you from all the nations on the face of the earth to be a people peculiarly his own" (Dt 7:6). With this Spirituality Review privilege comes a responsibility: "Be holy, for I, the Lord, your God, am holy" (Lv 19:2). Now the Israelites are God's chosen ones, a "holy people," or "saints," who are called to imitate the divine attributes. In the New Testament, the apostle Paul refers to the early Christians as saints because, as a community, they were set apart from their nonbelieving neighbors. The Christians were now God's own people, "the holy ones in Christ Jesus" (Ph 1:1). They, too, bear the task of emulating the Divine: "Put on the new self, created in God's way in Can we Use saint , to refer toChristians who lived exemplary lives ' of irtue and simplicity? righteousness and holiness of truth" (Ep 4:24). Eventually the term saint referred to Christians who lived exem-plary lives of virtue and simplicity, whose lifestyles served to inspire others. Christians at the Catacombs A cross-stitch sampler reads, "When someone you love becomes a memory, that memory becomes a trea-sure." As we peruse our family albums, we inevitably find the last photo taken of loved ones whose earthly lives are now memories. By visiting their graves and decorating the gravesites, we show that we treasure those memories. The ancient Israelites regarded death as the passage from life to Sheol (she-OHL), a dark place of confine-ment, but not one of punishment. In Sheol one was estranged from God: "Who among the dead remembers you? Who praises you in Sheol?" (Ps 6:6). From the moment of death, there were displays of grief, shown in clothing and in loud laments, wailing, and weeping. Advent/Christmas 2004 Flynn ¯ Saintlt.t Proper burial was required. To leave a body "for the birds of the air and the beasts of the field" (1 S 14:44) was an insult to God's creation. Poor people were buried in common graveyards. The wealthy had vaults dug into the hillsides. The entryway was closed with a circular stone slab. Families might have several interconnected rooms. Bodies were laid on shelves carved out for that purpose. The Jewish Christians also, of course, honored the memory of their loved ones. At first they simply con-tinued their Jewish practices, burying their dead amid laments and dirges. The resurrection of Jesus, however, changed their mourning into joy: "We do not want you to be unaware about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope" (1 Th 4:13). These new Christians, then, regarded the graves of their loved ones as a temporary resting place, not a final one. The word cemetery comes from a Greek word meaning dormitory, sleeping room. Christian burial customs continued to reflect the Jewish emphasis c~f respect for the body as God's cre-ation. To this end, Christians choose modest ground burial in common graveyards. During the 2nd and 3rd centuries, Christians made an effort to identify the graves of martyrs. They viewed death as a birthday: birth of a new life with God, as Jesus had promised. They occa-sionally gathered at these sites on the anniversaries of the martyrs' deaths to rejoice and commemorate their lives. In the 3rd century, Christians were buried in the cat-acombs, which were probably extensions of the hillside vaults of the wealthy. The catacombs were not used as a refuge for Christians during times of persecution. In the 4th cen .tury, however, they too were the site of memorial services. Here they celebrated the Eucharist "in memory Spirituality Review of those athletes who have gone before, and to train and make ready those who are to come hereafter."' Local Calendars and Canonization As we turn the pages in our family album, we come upon photographs of those who sacrificed their lives in the service of others--a widower uncle who refused to place his handicapped child in an institution despite pres-sure from doctors and family; an aunt who renounced marriage and children in order to care for her aging par-ents. They may not have died for their cause, but they laid down their lives nonetheless. To the Jewish community, a martyr was someone who was deeply devoted to God and lived life of exemplary piety and holiness. The martyr, or "witness," testi-fied to the manner of life appropriate for God's cho-sen people. To the new Christians a martyr was one who endured, not for the faith, but because of it. Faith allowed one to be "strengthened with every power, in accord with Mat does it'.mean .to'say a ,matyrr : one who endured; ,not for, the fai h, but ecause:ff it? [God's] glorious might, for all endurance and patience, with joy giving thanks to the Father, who has made you fit to share in the inheritance of the holy ones in light" (Col 1:11-12). The Book of Revelation refers to martyrs as those who gave their life for Jesus Christ. In later cen-turies martyrs came to mean those who willingly died for their beliefs. Christians faced persecutions until the peace of Constantine in the early 4th century. Recalling the acts of the martyrs served to inspire the .community in the Advent/Christmas 2004 Flynn ¯ Saint lt.t face of opposition. Each church had its own list of local heroes or saints. As intolerance subsided, martyrdom became uncommon. Christians now looked for new heroes to emulate. People who led extremely virtuous lives, especially those who lived in voluntary poverty, were included in the local calendar of saints. There were no formal criteria for sainthood: the devotion of the community was the sole requirement to set them apart. Over the centuries the lists of saints swelled and abuses occurred. Family legends often become exagger-ated as time passes; the sagas of the saints suffered the same fate. Consequently, the bishops began to set norms for calling people saints within their dioceses. In 1234 Pope Gregory IX declared that the sole route to official sainthood was papal canonization. Formal canonization has seen many changes since then. The most recent revi-sion came in 1983, but the devotion of the community is still an essential element. The lengthy and complex pro-cess begins when one or more persons submit a request to the bishop to examine the life of a deceased hero. All the Saints Sometimes, as we look through our family pho-tographs, we are surprised to discover an uneven repre-sentation of our relatives. Some people appear in almost every picture while others appear only rarely. Vghatever the reason for this, as families grow it becomes increas-ingly difficult to photograph the entire clan. Similarly, as our family of saints grew larger in num-ber than the days in a year, it became impossible to assign a specific day to honor each saint. The obvious solution was to select a day to honor all the saints, known and unknown, who did not have a personal feast day. Various places chose different days for this. November 1, the first day of Celtic winter, was the feast of all the saints in Spirituality Review Ireland. It was not until the 9th century that November 1 became the feast of All Saints for the entire church. While we celebrate the memory of all saints, we adore God alone. We pray to the saints to intercede with God for us. We venerate saints; we worship God alone. The distinction may be subtle, but it is significant. As Lawrence Cunningham observed, the saints "give us the encouragement to be more self-giving, more loving, less inclined to hate, more compelled to love. They invite us, in short, to transcend ourselves.''2 The Solemnity of All Saints is a day to honor those saints whom the Church formally recognizes for their lives of service to God and their neighbors. It is also a day when we can remember our loved ones who have gone before us and left memories to inspire us. It is a day when we can notice the goodness of people still among us, living relatives and friends who challenge us to be the person God calls us to be. At baptism each one of us was set apart for God. We became members of "'a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own, so that you may announce the praises' of him who called you out of dark-ness into his wonderful light" (1 P 2:9). Through baptism God lays claim to us, enabling us to become divine instru-ments. Whatever our situation in life, we are to imitate the divine attributes, to live virtuous lives, and to bear wit-ness to the way of life appropriate for God's holy people. The following stanza rarely appears in our hymnals despite its powerful imagery: For martyrs, who with rapture-kindled eye saw the bright crown descending from the sky and, seeing, grasped it, Thee we glorify.3 We, too, must grasp the crown, not necessarily by dying for our faith, but rather by persevering as witnesses who, through faith, live as God's image and likeness. Now it is /ldvent/Cbristmas 2004 Flynn ¯ Saintlt! our turn to be heroes and heroines for others, to "saint it," to act like saints. Our lives will then inspire a future gen-eration of saints and help to shape their Catholic heritage. Notes i From "The Martyrdom of Polycarp," 2rid century. 2 Lawrence S. Cunningham, The Meaning of the Saints (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1980), p. 162. 3 Marilyn Kay Stulken and Catherine Salika, Hymnal Companion to VVorsbip, 3rd ed. (Chicago: GIA Publications, 1998), p. 416. Reflection Reflect on/share your 'experience of the homespun sampler that says: "When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure." Spirituality Review DAVID L. FLEMING Imaging Isaiah Readings from the book of the prophet Isaiah are used for more than half of all the Advent Masses. The Liturgy of the Hours for this liturgical season, too, depends frequently on a first reading from Isaiah. Who is this man Isaiah? Why has the church chosen him to lead us through Advent? I believe that if we will make use of an imaginative way of praying we will be graced by God to have a richer appreciation of our Christian Advent. Let us ask, then, for an encounter with this prophet of God, one specially chosen to help us "wait." We are on a country road, and Isaiah is walking towards us. He seems to have a face that people say is "typical"-- that is, a typical Judean face. He, an eighth-century man of Judah, appears to be a man of experience--average height and build, seemingly in good health, with the lines of aging already visible around his eyes and across his David L. Fleming SJ is editor of this journal. He may be addressed at 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St, Louis, Missouri 63108. expecting in hope Advent/Christmas 2004 Fleming ¯ Imaging Isaiah forehead. At the same time, his eyes, bright and steady in their gaze, seem younger than his face and body; they are dark and serious,-strong, and unflinching. He has a studious air about him, like a longtime, somewhat rumpled, university professor we can feel at home with. He speaks quietly, but with authority. There is a certain cadence in his speech, a bit like listening to a poet give a dramatic reading of his own poetry. And so he begins to share some of his own story with us. We listen. I am a typical Jewish man, married, with a family. But I know that I am not typical in the way that I experience how God works in my life. Let me say straightway that God is God, there is no Other, and God is the God of my whole life. I am now working with my fourth king here in Judah; kings have come and gone in my forty~year experience, but God always remains. He stays with me, with us, his people. From my very first extraord!nary experience of God reaching into my life, God for me has always been the "Holy One of Israel." Sure, I have felt the warm reality of God's love, the intimacy of his call, that first time almost sounding like a plea, "Whom shall I send?" With the boldness of my youthful faith, I had no hesitation in speaking up and saying, "Here I am, Lord, send me." But, above all, my experience of God is that God is awe-ful, God is holy--really "other" than us. We humans are not very good in letting God be God in our lives. We do not like the awe-ful, the totally Other, the mysterious One. We still prefer making God like ourselves, and we find it very hard to allow God to make us like him. That pretty well sums up what I have had to say to my people and to kings for forty years. I see human pridebour self-indulgence and even our indifference to those in need--writ large in our nation of Judah. Yet Judah is "my people" and Jerusalem is the holy city. So it is hard for me to cry out and condemn, but what Spirituality Review can I do? The words are not mine, but God's word. God could raise up an ass to do as much as I do. Some people call me that anyway, and on my good days I take it as a compliment. You see, God is God, and from a weak and insignificant remnant of a people God will raise up a king from David's line just as he promised. We are called to trust. The Lord is the faithful One--faithful to his promises--and where else but from the Lord will we find a rule of peace and justice and a real family of humankind? I have seen quite a few kings--my hope lies not in them. My hope is always in my God, working with us now and moving with us always to a future that is in his hands. In our good times and in our busy moments, we forget or ignore God. In our hard times, we complain against our God, and we say that we cannot trust him. With all our ups and downs as a people, our moments of pride and then our times of discouragement and destitution, I feel that I must say two things at once. God wants to use me to console, not to punish. Our faith needs to feel strengthened, and not face further trial or reprimand. We need to grow in our trust of God. God says that through me; God also acts this out--for me and for my people, his people. The kingdom of God is at hand, and the poor and the lowly-- just how we feel now--are the very ones who find their home within it. So I image God's word like a two-edged sword. It cuts into our pride, our vanity, and our callous injustice to the poor; but it also heals with its searing blade, and it provides strength and protection. Advent/Christnlas 2004 Fleming ¯ Imaging Isaiah This is my experience of being God's prophet. This is the way that I live my call from God, listening to his word. I am trying to live this vocation faithfully. As I continue to respond to God's word, I feel myself always being challenged to grow in my trust of the Lord. Maybe being God's prophet is really not so extraordinary an experience. We all have to be faithful to our vocations, don't we? And that requires a continuing interplay of listening and responding. Of course, this way of living demands an ever greater trust in God for all .:of us, Living with God is such an advent experience-- always awaiting God's coming, in a spirit of trust. Prayer To continue the conversation with Isaiah and with God, we might open our Bible to Isaiah, chapter 43. Perhaps this passage will call forth in us our own encounter with Isaiah and/or God. Perhaps there will be little conversation, and instead just being with each other and thinking similar thoughts. And then we might remain with whatever phrase or sentence captures our heart, like the refrain of a song that keeps coming backer is it us coming back to it? Who is waiting for whom? Reflection Questions How have we experienced Isaiah providing a doorway for us into our Advent season? Does our listening and responding to God increase out trust in God leading us on in our vocation? Spirituality Review ROBERT P. MALONEY Dismas's Dying Moments: Reflections on "Palpable Grace" All four Gospels paint the same stark picture of Jesus' death: he dies crucified between two criminals, one on his right and one on his left. But, whereas Mark, Matthew, and John say almost nothing about the two criminals, Luke gives them speaking roles in a dramatic episode. In fact, this scene is the longest and most important Lucan difference in the crucifixion story. We usually refer to its main character as "the good thief," though Luke calls him neither "good" nor a "thief." While Mark and Matthew describe both men crucified with Jesus as "bandits," Luke simply refers to them as "wrongdoers," perhaps because, as the evangelist who most emphasizes gentleness, he wants to avoid placing Jesus in violent company at his death. Robert P. Maloney CM, superior general emeritus of the Congregation of the Mission, continues to write from Via dei Capasso, 30; 00164 Roma; Italy. remembering Advent/Christmas 2004 Maloney ¯ Dismas's Dying Moments Later tradition gave various names to both wrongdoers 0oathas and Maggatras, Zoatham and Camma, Titus and Dumachus, Dismas and Gestas), Most of these names are forgotten today, but some readers may still recall the good thief as Dismas. Under that name the Roman liturgical calendar assigned him a feast day, 25 March, once regarded as the day of Jesus' crucifixion, but now celebrated as the feast of his incarnation. A charming legend found in an apocryphal gospel relates that, when the Holy Family went down into Egypt, two robbers set upon them. One, however, halted immediately when he saw the tears that welled up in Mary's eyes. It was these same robbers (now caught plying their trade in Jerusalem)--so the story goes--who were crucified with Jesus. The one moved by Mary's tears was the good thief at Jesus' right. But the Gospels are silent about the wrongdoers' past history and personal lives. At first reading, the dialogue in Luke seems simple and direct, but in fact it is filled with subtle undertones. One of the wrongdoers, the evangelist states, joins his voice with those blaspheming Jesus: "Aren't you the Messiah? Then save yourself and us." But the "other wrongdoer" (Luke never calls him anything else) rebukes his companion: "Have you no fear of God, seeing that you are under the same sentence? We deserve it, after all. We are only paying the price for what we have done, but this man has done nothing wrong." Notice that in this Lucan scene the good thief is the witness to Jesus' innocence. Later a second witness, the centurion, will confirm the good thief's judgment, testifying "Surely this was an innocent man" (Lk 23:47). Now the drama heightens as the good thief speaks directly to the crucified Lord: "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." "Jesus"! This form of address is stunning in its intimacy. Nowhere else in Spirituality Review the four Gospels does anyone address Jesus simply by his given name without any reverential qualification. Luke's artistic touch conveys the genuineness of the wrongdoer's request. But note the irony too. For Luke, the first person with the confidence to speak so familiarly with the Lord is a convicted criminal--and he is also the last person to speak with him. He phrases his plea as remembrance, a favorite Lucan idea that is also found on ancient Jewish gravestones: "Remember me." Against all ordinary probability, this wrongdoer, hearing Jesus mocked as "king of the Jews" and sensing that an injustice is being done, believes that Jesus really will rule over a kingdom and humbly asks to be remembered. Jesus responds with an "amen saying," the only use of this solemn form in Luke's passion narrative and also its sixth and final use in his Gospel. Here the solemn formula bestows the gift of God's forgiveness. Jesus' assurance goes beyond anything that the wrongdoer (or the reader) might have anticipated: "Amen, I say to you, this day you shall be with me in paradise." Much more is granted than was asked. The response includes not just forgiveness but intimacy: you shall be with me. The good thief will, in Jesus' company, enjoy the fullness of happiness with God. Let me offer two brief reflections on this wonderful Lucan story. 1. We believe that grace is a pure gift. God bestows it freely and abundantly. We do not earn it; we only respond to it. On the deepest level, grace is God's presence, God's offer of personal love and self-communication. The gift is the giver. God touches our hearts and stirs up, even creates, a response within us. But it is important to note that this gift is not merely an unseen reality; it also comes in palpable forms. The Gospels remind us of this again and again. For the good Advent/Christmas 2004 Maloney ¯ Dismas's Dying Moments How understand "Jesus" grace, thief in Luke's story, Jesus is grace. One can almost imagine this "other wrongdoer" studying Jesus and slowly arriving at the conclusion that the man beside him is not only innocent of a capital crime but genuinely good, In fact--this little detail often goes unnoticed-- Luke gives the good thief more time to observe Jesus than any of the other evangelists, for in his Gospel (different from Mark, Matthew, and John) the two wrongdoers walk the entire way of the cross with Jesus before dying with him (Lk 23:32). The goodness he sees in the person of Jesus touches the good thief's heart and evokes a response: "Jesus, remember me." Is that not how grace often works? It enters our lives through the faithful witness of others (like our parents, or a self-giving servant of the poor, or a sick person who bears illness with courageous faith) or through a saint's life or a martyr's death that we read about. The signs of God's love--what we call "grace"--are visible all around us. What is remarkable in the good thief is that he does not turn in on himself in the desperately grim moments when his life was draining away. Instead of sinking into depression or despair, he sees goodness itself in the person of Jesus and utters a hopeful plea: "Jesus, remember me." He sees grace personified and responds. 2. There is something remarkably humble in this "other wrongdoer." Unlike his companion, he recognizes the truth of his own situation. His sober analysis was, I suspect, shocking both for the first wrongdoer and for the bystanders: "We have been condemned jusdy. We are only paying the price for what we have done, but this man has done nothing wrong." Spirituality Review Thomas Merton once wrote, "We make ourselves real by telling the truth." Truth lies at the core of our being, straining to emerge. When we express the truth, we begin to build our true self. So it was for the good thief. Drawn by the innocence and goodness of the Lord, he recognized his own emptiness and, precisely in doing so, was able to see, hear, receive, and be filled. There is a humble and at the same time affectionate ring in the good thief's plea, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus' warm response is another Lucan testimony that the humble are exalted: "Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise." As Jesus often 'reminded his followers, to the humble all good can come, whereas the proud always remain empty. In a time when there is so much war, so much terrorism, so much hunger, so much disease, and so much senseless death, Luke's account encourages us to see, along with the good thief, the abundant signs of God's gracious love, even in the midst of suffering. Luke urges us to stand before the Lord and before each other with great trut-hfulness and humility. Humility will enable us to see our companions on the journey as grace in our lives, visible signs of God's presence and love. As he approached the place of crucifixion, the good thief must surely have felt that this was his darkest hour. But light shone for him in that darkness because, with the Lord, "darkness itself is not dark anti night shines as the day" (Ps 139:12). Prayer We might enter into Dismas's experience by listening to Advent/Christmas 2004 Maloney ¯ Dismas's Dying Moments the Taiz~ hymn "Jesus remember me," with its repeated refrain: "Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom. Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom." O dying souls, behold your living spring: O dazzled eyes, behold your son of grace; Dull ears, attend what word this word doth bring: Up heavy hearts: with joy your joy embrace. From death, from dark, from deafness, from despairs: This life, this light, this word, this joy repairs: Gift better than himself God doth not know: Gift better than his God, no man can see: This gift doth here the giver given bestow: Gift to this gift let each receiver be. God is my gift, himself he freely gave me: God's gift am I, and none but God shall have me. --St. Robert So.uthwell Spirituality Review ROBERT NORTH My Associates Spirituality guides propose that to fill blanks or weariness in our prayer we readily have "recourse to familiar ejaculations like "Lord, have mercy on me a sinner," "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening," or "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." These help us to make our prayer legitir~ate!y.~e!.(Tce!3.t~-ed, aiming to make us more Christlike. But a dif-ferent legitimate focus of prayer aims at God's creative and caring concerns more directly than our own. We propose here an ejaculation less simple and familiar but more suited to this focus: "Son of God, help me to do my part in fulfilling your creation plan for myself, my associates, and the whole universe." The invocation "Lord" may mean either God or Jesus, but the equivalent "Son of God" evokes Robert North SJ writes us an article for the first time since 1944, when he wrote "Scripture in the Christmas Liturgy" during this journal's infancy--and only a year after Divino afflante Spiritu. His address is Jesuit Community; 10100 West Bluemound Road; Wauwatosa, Wisconsin 53226. expanding our world Advent/Christmas 2004 North * My Associates our chief doctrines, the Trinity and the incarnation, as the basis of our faith and prayer. But another key term follows: "my associates." It evokes the vastness of God's creative concerns in their relation to me. "My associates"--whether used in silent prayer or expressed publicly--doubtless usually suggests my fam-ily and friends, my business associates, and members of my community or parish or neighborhood. The term "associates" is also likely to include religious authori-ties- the pope, the bishop, other bishops worldwide, the world's Catholics--with the faintest hint of omitting or forgetting other Christians or people of no belief in any God at all. Such a hint is hopefully gradually vanishing in our ecumenical age, as we take cautious steps to share the aim of several world-renowned prayer sessions of Pope John Paul II with other believers in a God even with a different name or attributes. Our progress along these lines is strengthened rather than diminished by the pope's per-sistent promotion of this project in spite of vocal and well-publicized opposition from some top Vatican prelates. God's Own Religious Associatesmand Ours Our church does indeed admit and even sometimes pronounce emphatically that our creating and caring God "willed" (can this mean less than "intended"?) the salvation of all humans, "them" no less than "us." This has been often or generally taken to mean that God wishes all humans to be members of his one church, thus giving a strong urge to missionary activity. In the early years of a developing Bible-based theol-ogy, the church became the official religion of the Roman Empire, then dominating virtually the whole world. Thus there seemed nothing quixotic in hoping and making efforts toward "conversion" of those scarcely known or Spirituality Review suspected fringe tribes outside the Mediterranean world. But the world we know today, still incompletely and pro-gressively, is of course a vastly different story. A great many of today's conversions by the received methods are in the parts of Africa or Asia whose exis-tence had never even been suspected in the Roman world. But other regions, especially those incorporated into Islam, raise a great outcry against "proselytizing," and even forbid it by law as a political maneuver. Partly to escape such laws, but more because of their own growing ecumenical con-victions, some--far from all--of the well-estab-lished Catholic "missions" proclaim firmly that their goal is not conversion but "mutual understandingF."rom Catholic theology and traditions their effort is to recognize with sympathy how the creating and caring God has enabled all peoples to get some inadequate notions of him under different names and attributes oi" even with distressing notions of (human) sacrifice or other religious obligations. Not only Catholics but also prosperous Evangelical missions hope that a dialogue will thus develop, so that each side will see some merit in the other or some lim-ited revelation of himself by God in inscrutable ways he has chosen. From such open-minded dialogue, some few or many may freely and honestly choose Christianity. This hope may be unduly optimistic, especially in view of how Christian success has historically been imposed by warlords, though not to the grim and now soft-pedaled extent of moderate Islam. But frankly proselytizing efforts like "Bibles for (communist) Russia" or "Jews for Advent/Cbrispmas 2004 North * My Associates Jesus" inevitably arouse a self-defeating hostility. Religion must adapt to culture patterns. Slavery is now con-demned, and what was called "usury" is now widespread under various names. Today's goal is ecumenism. God's Associatesmand Oursm in Starving Africa and Asia Prominent among one's associates are those whom one must feed. Not only nursing mothers but also wage earners of large families quite naturally feel a special responsibility to their children and aged relatives who depend entirely on them for keeping alive. Some few of these for various reasons may not even be relatives, though usually they are already "associates." But many of the world's people have only their creat-ing and caring God to save them from starvation, despite the help they may receive from charitable organizations whose members may well regard them as "associates." If in our prayers we think it right to focus on God's interests as equal or even prior to our own, we should include among our own "associates" these starvelings who depend on us (the overaffluent rest of the world). But wait! There is a danger that we may feel that in praying for these "associates" we have discharged our obligation toward them, like the New Testament person who virtuously says to a beggar, "Go in peace; be warmed and filled" (Jm 2:16). We may be reassured that our prayer is not an empty or hypocritical gesture if we also make a regular contribution. But the real-world situa-tion is far more complex. The clamorous problem is that a small percent of the world's population owns most of its resources. They are needlessly rich, while the others are too poor--living below what statisticians of even the richest nations cal-culate and publish as "poverty level." And of course we Spirituality Review all know, even perhaps a bit complacently or thankfully to God, that our own too rich standard of living is at or near the highest in the world. "On the average," we must add, for the thousands of our citizens who must sleep on the cold streets or survive on handouts and soup kitchens make our disproportion even worse. We are not asking whose fault this is. No one's, really. A combination of circumstances over centuries: vast national and individual landholdings, brave pioneers who transformed the untilled territories of aboriginal nomad tribes into richly yielding farms, and "democracy," which with all its merits gets lawmakers to give a higher prior-ity to contenting their constituencies ("pork-barrel" deals, lobbies, sometimes actual graft, and so forth) than to world justice. A sensible redistribution (even if far from equality) would demand that legislators and voters rec-ognize that, for one pan of the scale to go down, the other must be more or less empty. Even our meritorious farm-ers and expensively trained pharmaceutical biochemists must not only tolerate but demand that their excesses be cut to help (even if only slightly) the truly intolerable position of most of the world. This is not to suggest that there be another (rash and counterproductive) political lobby, but rather a reasoning dialogue among holders of power. Something like this should be the object of our prayers for poverty-stricken associates. Such prayers can be honest and effective, not hypocritical (as pilloried in the letter of James), even though we do not consider the situation appropriate or ourselves competent to warrant "meddling in politics." Our "Planet Earth" Associates Though "the whole universe" is a separate focus of God's creative concern,, there is an aspect of it involving AdventlChristntas 2004 North ¯ My Associates "my associates." The Earth is truly "ours," though only a planet of a galaxy so small that it is scarcely noticeable in the vast sky maps shown in the latest telescopes. Yet our own material bodies are constituted of infinitesimal particles whizzing in and out from the farthest star. Of St. Ignatius Loyola a poet wrote, "His vigil was with the stars; his eyes were bright with radiance of them." Long before him Christians and others had gazed at the How do wefeel about the convictions.ofan Earth-centered universe:? stars with a mystic fas-cination, sometimes as the very "heaven" in which God was believed to dwell. Yet through all those centuries the star-studded sky was known only about as much as could be seen on the ceiling of a planetarium, and the Earth was thought to be the center which gave function to all the rest. Ignatius wrote in the "Foundation" of his Exercises that everything that exists is for me. This is not just lib-erality but a challenge and a test: to be used only as things help to the goal of my creation. Technology and inven-tions provide now a far greater and more tempting range of options, and the universe known to science today is vastly greater. Some devout science-minded Christians find this to confirm rather than lessen their faith: "More is better! If the immensity of reality known to antiquity showed forth the greatness and generosity of its Creator, this is now proved a trillion times more firmly." But others feel that Isaiah 45:18 must now be under-stood in an entirely new way: "the creator of the uni-verse., who formed the earth and made it. did not create a chaos, but formed it to be inhabited." Why should God have chosen to produce the sterile varieties Spirituality Review known to astronomy if his real goal was the tiny pin-point of it fit for human habitation? We cannot claim to intuit or know God's intentions: "my ways are not your ways" (Is 55:8). But surely all progress of science and theology too has been due to people reflecting on vari-ous possible intentions of the mysterious data of experi-ence. We can pray that we may do our part in the fulfillment of God's creation plan. Though the conviction of an Earth-centered uni-verse is today derided, we should not sell the idea short. Even the most demythologizing astrophysicists agree that our own Earth is unique in its formation through billions of years by explosions and floods implausible for their gradual releasing, from various locations in the whole universe as much as four million years ago, gaseous and solid elements indispensable for the human life which appeared shortly after. Of course, scientists still earnestly searching may yet find evidence that other stellar bodies by quite different explosions are in process of forming a surface capable of supporting human or humanlike life. But they and the general public are much more arrested by the question of whether human or any true "life" actually exists on another planet. Even before the recent exciting com-munications from Mars, the Vatican Jesuit astronomer Guy Consolmagno wrote that materials from Mars, though not life itself, were microbe combinations of the kind which on our earth eventually hooked up with car-bon to form primitive life-forms. Later he wrote the arti-cle "Could I baptize a Martian?" Our church has in fact been open and keen on whether there could be humanlike life on other planets. With sci-ence she recognizes that evidence for this is at most a remote possibility, but not altogether excluded. These merely possible beings would fall into the class of "asso- Advent/Christmas 2004 North ¯ My Associates ciates" for whom we should pray as objects of God's own creative concern. If indeed they were (evolutively) cre-ated, then they form part of God's desire and intention that they should share in salvation, even if they have not (yet) been baptized members of the Christian church. Union Replacing Divisiveness This widening of the concept of "my associates" has been developed in accord with modern scientific revi-sions of geography, economics, and astronomy. But its true merit for our prayer lies in recognizing the spiritual value of seeking a greater union among the peoples amid whom we live. "No peace among nations without peace among religions," it has been said. Hope of real peace and union among all humans may be realistically unlikely and nevertheless a valid goal--God's own creative caring goal--toward which our prayer may be directed. A Prayer When I think of you, Lord, I cannot say whether I find you more in this place or that place--whether I am contemplating you or whether I am suffering--whether I rue my faults or find union-- whether it is you I love or the whole sum of others. Every affection, every desire, every possession, every light, every depth, every harmony, and every ardor glitters with equal brilliance, at one and the same time, in the inexpressible relationship that is being set up between me and you: Jesus! Pierre Teilhard de Chardin "The Mystical Milieu" Writings in Time of War Reflection Question What has been my experience of praying for others? Spirituality Review The Best of the Review - 3 WIN 9x/ME/NT/2000/XP-- This program will run automatically or run"START.EXE" MAC 8/9/10/Chssic -- Double Click on the Start.icon As a special bonus, the book A Spirituality for Contemporary Life: The Jesuit Heritage Today is included on this CD-ROM. The Christian Ministry of Spiritual Direction edited by David L. Fleming Sy This best-selling book, about the theology and psychology of spiritual direction in the Christian tradition, has been of service to many. It is now republished on a readable CD-ROM. $I 0 plus $2 postage and handling I. Spiritual Direction: Needed--a Spiritual Context II. Spiritual Direction: Identity--a Christian Ministry 1II. Spiritual Direction: Its Interaction with Psychology IV. Spiritual Direction: Its Beginnings V. Spiritual Direction: a Process A. God and Our Experience B. Prayer and Examen C.Will of God and Discernment D. Dialogue VI. Spiritual Direction: Special Concerns To order this CD-ROM, please see order form on the back. phone: (314) 977-7363 fax: (314) 977-7362 email: review@slu.edu Please make payment to: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard St. Louis, MO 63108 foview r religious We accept Master or Visa card, or checks in US funds on a US bank. 3601 Lindell Blvd.- St. Louis, Missouri 63108- USA order form subscription rates [] ONE-YEAR SUBSCRIPTION Within the United States .u.s$24 [] Outside the United States (Surface Mail) .US$28 [] [] TWO-YEAR SUBSCRIPTION Within the United States .u.s$40 [] Outside the United States (Surface Mail) .us$48 [] (Air Mail) us$43 [] (Air Mail) US$84 [] Please note that mailing costs are included with subscription rates. [] a new subscription [] a restart of a lapsed subscription [] a renewal [] a missionary gift subscription SUBTOT~IL book list N%TMBER OF COPIES TOTAL The Christian Ministry of Spiritual Direction CD-ROM @ $10 (as a bonus the book A Spirituality for Contemporary Life: The Jesuit Heritage Today ir inluded on this CD-ROM) __ Prisms for a Christ-Life @ $12 __ Notes on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola @ $10.95 __ Paths of Renewal for Religious @ $10.95 __ Ignatian Exercises: Contemporary Annotations @ $12.95 __ The Church and Consecrated Life @ $18.95 1942-1994 Topical and Author INDEX @ $8 Above books add $2.50 for one copy, $1 for each additional book, for postage and handling. Special savings - next 3 books - purchased as a set for $25 plus $4 mailing cost __ Life through a P?et's Eyes @ $9.95 __ Praying as a Christian @ $12.95 __ Dwelling in the House of the Lord @ $12.95 POSTAGE TOTAL ENCLOSED Please make payment to Review for Religious in US funds oti a US bank. Prices good through December 2004. NAME ADDRESS CITY STATE/PROVINCE POSTAL CODE COUNTRY Please charge my ~ MasterCard ~ Visa Account CREDIT CARD Nq3MBER EXPIRATION DATE Review for Religious " 3601 Lindell Boulevard " St. Louis, MO 63108 " USA PHONE: 314-977-7363 ¯ FAX: 314-977-7362 Emaih review@slu.edu ¯ Website: www.reviewforreligious.org Review for Religious--A Quarterly Jburnal,~ (All prices include mailinog .c. .s.ts0 : UNqTED STATES AND" ITS TERRITrRIES $24 for one-~,ear sUbscription $4.0 for two-year subscription $3 for one copy of Spirituality Review suppl~_ment MethodsofPayment ' " ~ All checks and money orders should be made ~ut:toRE'~iEW FOR REL~GIOUS and paid in US currency dra~vn on US banks 07 their agents. MasterCard or Visa -accepted. Please send all correspondence to: Review fo~ Religious ¯ 3601 LindeJl ~oulevard . St. Louis, ~O ~63"108-3393 FAX: 314-977-7362 ¯ E-MAIL: re~iew@slu.e~u Web site: www.reviewforreligio_us.org - New subscriptions will begiri'within t~n to t~el~e weeks. Address chagges require 9t least four weeks' notice. Please send' both your new address and your forme"r address. Please include your subscription number for ~renewal~ and changes of-addresS.' Th~ core of each issue of Reviev¢ for.Religious ~ is available on' cassettes.~to the visually impaired ~.~. --free of charge ~Contact: Alfced.E.'C~r~an~ SJ, Director Xavier Socie'ty for the Blind ~ 154 E. 23rd Street°, New-York, N~ . Telephone: 212-]473-78~90 FOR ALL OTHER COUNTRJ.ES (SURFACE;MAI~). . $ 2 8 fQr one-ye~ir subsgripdon $48 for .two-year'subscription FOR ALL OTHER COUNTkIES (~kIR MAIL) $43 for one-y.ear subscription $8~4 t%r twol-year subs~rip~on.

Issue 65.4 of the Review for Religious, 2006. ; Searching Wisdom Apprediating the Word ¯ Living Chastely QUARTERLY 65.4 2006 '~ Review for-ReligiouS-fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one ~ ¯ ~another, about the holiness we try to live according . _ tO charisms of Catholic religious life. As~Pope Paul vlsaid~ our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih review@slu.edu ° Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2006 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission tnust bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. eview for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff VVebmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Claire Boehmer ASC Stephen Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVO Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 65.4 2006 contents prisms 342 searching wisdom On Leaving Office Gracefully Kathleen Hughes RSCJ suggests a three-stage process that any leadership team might use or adapt in order to consider their years of service and come to closure on a privileged and grace-filled time in their lives. 354 Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship Thomas G. Casey SJ reflects on the importance of imitating Jesus by cultivating intelligence and nourishing wisdom, and suggests ways to go about it. Personal/Group Reflection Questions 365 appreciating the word ~ Andrew Ryder SCJ underlines the valuable Vatican II gift of the lectionary--the three-year cycle of Sunday readings, the two-year cycle of daily readings from the epistles and the Old Testament, and the one-year cycle of daily gospels--and its place in the tradition going back to Old Testament times. Review for Religious 375 Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation Brendan Kneale FSC reflects on the final four doctrines of the Apostles' Creed, developing the consolations that they entail for our deepest human concerns. Prayer Suggestion 382 God's Invitation Armand Nigro SJ has us listen to God's invitation to prayer. 384 living chastely Sexuality and Celibate Chasti.ty: Friends Not Foes Sefin D. Sammon FMS reviews the growth process in our understanding and appreciation of our sexuality and our celibate chastity in their mutual aim at union with God and others. Reflection and Discussion Questions 399 "Bride of Christ": Timely Sign in Signless Times? Annette M. Pelletier II-hVl examines how the signs, symbols, texts, and gestures in the "Rite of Religious Profession for Women" illuminates what it means to be a "bride of Christ." 414 "I Will Espouse You": The Religious Profession Ring Hildegard Magdalen Pleva OSSR explains the origin, history, and meaning of the,religious profession ring. departments 423 Scripture Scope: Reading the Gospel of Luke 427 Canonical Counsel: The Q.O.T. Principle 433 Book Reviews 445 2006 Indexes 339 prisms 340 Time is always with us. Sometimes we seem to have too much time, and we say that "it drags." Probably, more often, we claim that we have too little time, and we appear to be rushing around, just a little bit late for our next appointment. Although we don't ordinarily give much thought to it, there is another major difference about time. Some would see it as cyclic--what we allude to when we use the aphorism "What goes around comes around." Others would understand time as linear, like the flow of a river in whose same waters we can never step twice. Our Jewish-Catholic tradition has placed us peo-ple of faith solidly within the linear notion of time. We have but one life to live, all of its rela-tionships and its growth and its diminishment viewed within the prism of our own developing relationship with God. At first, it may appear that the church litur-gical year has opted for the cyclic model of time. With the celebration of the feast of Christ the King, we bring Ordinary Time to an end, and we begin again another liturgical year with the season of Advent, followed by Christmas, and eventually again the Lenten season, and so on. But as a time for personal growth, each season of the church year issues the call and challenge for us, not to repeat practices in a stimulus-response Review ~br Religion, s . sort of way, but to enter more responsibly and full-heart-edly into the daily mystery of a life with God. Just as we do not want to celebrate this Christmas with the exact same interior response that we had last Christmas, so, too, we do not want vow renewals, whether of marriage anniversaries or religious profession anniversaries, to be merely a repeat of where we were at that moment of the original ceremony. We have moved on, hopefully in the depth of our love and commitment. Only one thing is certain: we cannot remain exactly the same, since, in time, we are either moving forward--growing--or fall-ing back--diminishing or becoming less. Our use of time, then, needs to be regularly evalu-ated. At certain points within our daily lived experience, like the end of a project, the completion of a group activ-ity, a working together at an assigned task, we need to make an assessment. Every assessment follows basically the questions within the Ignatian daily examen. How has God been present to us within this time? How have we ignored or kept God from our ken? Have we grown in our relationship with God and with others through this time period? These questions are foundational as to our measurement of success or failure, how we have used our time, a precious gift of God to us. In the November time we remember the dead, those who have gone on before us. So, as we begin the new Advent and Christmas seasons, let us more eagerly look forward to meeting "in good time" our God of eternity. Time is God's gift of transport ever carrying us more quickly to our life with God forever--time without end. Our time now always needs its moments of celebration. Through the church year and through our workaday events, we take time to celebrate God's gifting. 341 David L. Fleming sJ 65.4 2006 KATHLEEN HUGHES searching wisdom On Leaving Office Gracefully Several weeks after five of us assumed positions of leadership in the United States Province of the Religious of the Sacred Heart, we each received a brochure for a workshop on "Transitioning Out of Leadership." We laughed a bit nervously, wondering how we got on that mailing list and who might be trying to tell us something! Six years later, however, we were ready for a pro-cess which would help us to leave office grace-fully, but soon we discovered that very little was available.~ While leadership transition has often been the subject of articles and workshops, gen-erally the focus is on identifying and equipping new leaders for the ministry which they have or will soon assume. The Leadership Conference of Women Religious of the United States, for example, annually offers an excellent seminar for new leaders whose goal is competence and skills in spiritual leadership, finance, canon and civil law, human development, and communica- Kathleen Hughes RSCJ was provincial of the Society of the Sacred Heart 1999-2005. Her address is Institute for Ecumenical and Cultural Research; P.O. Box 2000; Collegeville, Minnesota 56321. E-maih khughes@rscj.org Review for Religious tions. Team building is considered. Conflict resolution is explored. There is no shortage of articles, talks, seminars, and itinerant consultants, all of them promoting effective, even prophetic leadership within religious communities. One day, though, all that knowledge, all those skills, all the relationships which have developed, all the dis-cernment and decision~making and menial tasks that keep the machine well oiled stop abruptly. One day a ministry which has been all-consuming ends so suddenly that it could be likened to a trap door opening up and swallow-ing those above it. The former leaders get on planes or at least move across town, and the new leadership team move into their offices, probably freshly painted, with flowers on the desk. At the end of a leadership mandate there is both pres-sure and pride in leaving things in good order. Cleaning, sorting, and purging files takes time and the sound of shredding can be heard outside every office. The more important narrative and historic records are classified, labeled, and sent to the archives. Extraneous materials are eliminated from computers, especially all those e-mails that it once seemed so urgent to save. Leadership teams old and new meet together to discuss imminent concerns, financial realities, and personnel matters. Long-range planning, anniversaries pending, and events already on the calendar are noted. Members who are in transition in ministry, community, or for personal reasons are given special consideration. A final annual report is prepared, printed, and mailed. There is also the packing up and moving of each one's goods and paraphernalia, all the while wondering how so much accumulated. There is the physical move to a new community, quite possibly in a new city, the planning of a vacation or sabbatical, the reflection about a next min-istry, and the timing of it all. Finally there are the good- 6~.4 2006 Hughes ¯ On Leaving Office Gracefully byes with their attendant lunches and dinners and the rituals of thanks which are particular to each leadership team. There is a lot to attend to in the final days. And because there is so much pressure at the end of a term to "leave the place in good shape," it is possible that the persons involved may not be in good shape at all or may walk away from office without ever actually leaving it. How do we prepare our own hearts for the handing over? Well before our term was up, we anticipated the need for a good process which would help us reflect on our years of service, imagine the future, and care for one another through the transition. This article will explore the three-stage process which we developed, a series of day-long conversations, spaced over many months, which helped us to hand over our work and come to closure on an important and grace-filled time in our lives. The first two "conversations" happened in the months before we left office; the final "conversation" happened six months later. 3441 Looking Back: Blessings and Bruises Much happens in the life of a community over a term or two in office. Sometimes experiences, events, and encounters are a source of great joy; at other times moments have been hurtful to those involved, however unintentional the pain. When leaving office it is impor-tant to look back at the blessings and the bruises in order to celebrate, to grieve, to repent, to forgive, and to give thanks--in about equal measure. It is often said that administrators spend ninety-five percent of their time on five percent of the people. Perhaps in religious life the percentages are a bit dif-ferent, but there is no doubt that much time and atten-tion are given over to people or situations of crisis. In the press of work in the day-to-day, it is possible to lose sight of the larger picture, the courageous growth, the Reviev~ for Religious fidelity to prayer, the simple generosity, the willingness to stay in dialogue during times of conflict, the healing that happens, the beauty and depth which conversations reveal, the opportunities to inspire and bless, the witness of long and faithful lives spent in service, the moments of insight, the risks taken and welcomed, all the tiny acts of kindness--all the blessings great and small that those in leadership experience happening in the membership and in themselves. The opportunity to serve in leadership is itself a great privilege and a blessing. The openness of the membership in speaking of their inner journey, their joys and their struggles, is deeply edifying. The amazing zeal for minis-try and witness for justice of some, the courageous battle with substance abuse of oth-ers, the struggle to under-stand what faith-filled living means in the midst of cul-tural and religious upheaval, the suffering borne with sweetness and peace, the courage in the midst of great personal darkness--each member, each story, each grace witnessed by those in leadership has been a blessing which changes them forever. In gathering the blessings of their years of leadership, the team rightly delight in their own a~complishments too: prayer fostered and deepened, initiatives begun, participation encouraged, staff strengthened, systems put in place, strides taken to assure financial solvency, and, above all, mission clarified, supported, and sustained. In addition, the unique contribution of each one on the leadership team to the work of the whole must be cel-ebrated. Members of a team are blessings to each other, especially in the darker times. Much happens in the life of a community over a term or two in office. 65.4 2006 Hughes ¯ On Leaving Office Gracefully In looking back, there is also much to repent and to grieve about. Misunderstandings happen. We hurt each other by too hasty responses, by clumsy decisions unsea-soned by experience, by expectations which are too great or too small, by seeming indifference to suffering. We hurt each other by passing over gifts, by the triangula-tion of third-party conversations, by wielding authority in a sometimes autocratic manner. We hurt each other often more because of ignorance or lack of competence than negligence or malice--which does not make the pain any less. There is much to grieve about and to regret as lead-ers leave office, and much to learn in the letting go. A leadership team can help each other not to exaggerate bruises, to remind someone who feels deep regret that she did her best with the knowledge she had and, besides, that she can tease out of the situation some wisdom to use in the future. The team can remind one another that forgiveness and reconciliation do not happen because we will them but because time and grace make them pos-sible, perhaps long after the arbitrary date for a change of administration. Lines from Psalm 103 perfecdy capture the deepest real-ity: that the ministry of leadership is ultimately God's work. It is God who has blessed us and our community in so many ways; it is God who forgives and heals and makes whole when we have failed to be blessings for one another. My soul, bless the Lord, bless God's holy name! My soul, bless the Lord, hold dear all God's gifts! Bless God who forgives your sin and heals every illness, who snatches you from death and enfolds you with tender care, Review for Religqous who fills your life with richness and gives you an eagle's strength. Bless the Lord, ~ny soul.2 Looking Forward: Living Deliberately A second day-long conversation addresses the future with this question: How will I live my life differently because of these years of service? Leadership experi-ence cannot help but change those who serve. They have attended the school of life and love. They have been exposed to the best and the worst in human nature. In the process, convictions are formed about what constitutes holy healthy living. Before taking leave of service and of one's compan- - -- ions in leadership, talking together about newly formed convictions commits the speakers to embracing them as a way of life upon rejoining the general membership. Here are a few examples. Leaders may have developed a pattern of consistent common prayer which has sup-ported and sustained the team, built trust among them, helped them know and love each other in deep relation-ships, and, above all, convinced them that God is cen-tral to everything they do and every decision they take. Regular common prayer, in a word, has supported and sustained them in ministry. They know it is possible; they know it is necessary; they intend, in the communities they join, to negotiate ways of praying together in some con-sistent pattern. Leaders have had the privilege of seeing growth among the members. They have witnessed genuine con-version and new life, even among those who seemed to Leadership experience ;Cannot help but change those, who serve. 65.4 2006 Hughes ¯ On Leaving Office Gracefully be mired in long-established patterns which had made many people give up on them. From the perspective of leadership, it is clear that "with God all things are pos-sible," and perhaps also with the love of others who bring people to new life. Giving people a chance to change and the space to let it happen in God's time becomes, then, a deliberate choice for the future. Another area of resolution may be in the way one decides, or not, to continue to take risks. Assuming lead-ership itself is a huge risk. Leadership candidates prob-ably asked themselves many questions before taking the leap of faith to congregational service: Do I have the gifts, the vision, the stamina, the public presence, even a thick enough skin? And what an amazing hundredfold is the return to those who accept service. Leaders may then decide to choose risk as a way of life, not settling down, not avoiding a new ministry or a move because it is too scary, not getting into set patterns which make them "stuck" where they are and less open to new possibili-ties, not anxiously calculating the competencies or energy needed for a new venture. "Risk as a way of life" implies that those who have completed leadership became secure in the "grace of office," that is, the promise of God's presence always, no matter the risk. No exceptions. Living deliberately in light of one's service may also include a commitment to participate actively in the life of the membership, responding to the initiatives of the new team, serving on committees and task forces, tuning in to teleconferences, sending a word of gratitude for work well done or a question or comment when solicited. A conversation about deliberate choices for the future is a way to capture the best insights of each team mem-ber after some years of sorting the wheat and the chaff of religious life. Here is a typical spill of intentions from such a conversation: Review for Religious. I will be grateful that others are willing to serve; I will try to participate attentively; I will be aware that there is always more to the story and at least as many sides as people involved; I will try to be simple and pare down; I will do my best, wherever I am, to make community happen; I will cherish relationships; I will remember that people appre-ciate a personal note of gratitude, congratulations, or condolence; I will try to be a healer; I may be "sadder and wiser," but I will draw on that wis-dom; I will be thoughtful and generous in using money; I will use my newly honed gifts and skills well; I will care for my health more intentionally; I will try to respect and validate the experience and insights of each one; I will be more attentive to the international dimension of the community; I will savor and delight in doing one thing at a time; I will do one "lovely thing" each day just for fun; I will wake up every day feeling responsible for a much smaller universe--my own! Such a conversation is wide and deep, and humorous too, and it moves the transition to a new phase. While a "bless-ings and bruises" conversation is a way of looking back and letting go, this second conversation about "living deliber-ately" moves a group beyond the mandate of leadership to imagining reintegration among the membership. Looking Within: Reflecting on the Present After a period of time out of office, a third conversa-tion makes the transition complete. On leaving community service the members of the leadership team choose their own ways of resting, recuperating~ and reorienting them-selves to "ordinary time." Even those individuals who con-tinue in leadership positions have a major transition and a lot of challenges, for a new configuration of members on i349 65.4 2006 Hughes ¯ On Leaving Office Gracefully the leadership team supposes very different personalities, ways of making decisions, and styles of collaboration. Weeks immediately after passing leadership on can be vulnerable times. There may be a sense of loss at many different levels--relationships, security, even status. There may be endless time on Weeks immediately after passing leadership on, can be vulnerable times; one's hands and an inability to stop the engines which have been in overdrive for so long. There may be a loss of nerve, a questioning of one's gifts and compe-tencies and whether there is a ministry and/or a community where there is a fit. There may be relationships which need to be adjusted for greater mutuality. There are decisions about whether and how much to participate in the life of the community, particularly in order to give new leaders the freedom to blaze their own trail. On the other hand, one may feel passed over when not asked for a piece of wisdom that experience presumably taught. There may be the temptation to make comparisons, to judge new initiatives in the community before they have a chance to flourish, to think but never say aloud "That won't work. We tried that!" There may be the awkwardness of knowing too much along with a need to mourn no longer being part of the easy rapport of a team bound to confidentiality. Team members who have worked closely and intensely for a long time may delight in and greatly profit from an opportunity, perhaps six months after leaving office, to reunite for a day or a weekend. Each one, in turn, can reflect about the experience of the last few months and the challenges of transition, some of which only other for-mer team members can appreciate. Questions such as the l~eview for Religious following can prompt reflections which will be personal for each one and yet have some common elements: What has this transition been like? What has been the best part of moving out of leader-ship or, in the case of those who have continued to serve, what has been the best part of working with a brand new team? What has been challenging, for example, in ministry, community, prayer, recalibrating relationships, a different pace, not traveling, not knowing what is going on or, for someone who has joined the new team, knowing more than the rest of the team? What do I anticipate in the months ahead that may be important to name? Is there wisdom to share or to seek from the group? Where is God in all of this? Who is God in all of this? As each one speaks, others respond, question, affirm, and challenge, but mostly they listen with the ears of the heart and with the empathy borne of the deep bonds which close collaboration has forged. In the course of this conversation, the team is transformed into a group of friends whose support and affection will remain strong despite time and distance. The Importance of Ritual. There is a wonderful piece of wisdom in Herb Gardner's play A Thousand Clowns. One of the characters, Murray, says "You've got to know what day it is. You've got to own your days and name them, or else the years go right by, and none of them belongs to you.-3 Good ritual is what helps us "own our days and name them." Well-planned ritual brings to public expression the experience of the community and its members. All of the day-long conversations described above, for example, were framed 65.4 2006 Hughes * On Leaving Office Gracefully by ritual prayer, music, silence, breaking of bread, and blessing. How much more important it is to mark the transi-tion of leadership in the life of the whole community by a ritual adequate to the weight of the moment. Good preaching explores the Scriptures which have been cho-sen to illuminate the experience and the hopes of those gathered. The service of the outgoing leadership team is acknowledged with gratitude, and the future of each member is entrusted to God in prayer. The incoming leaders are blessed and publicly given the authority under the constitutions of the order for the exercise of their ministry. And the whole assembly commits itself to active participation in the governance of the community by say-ing its "Amen." Through strong ritual the leadership transition is accomplished. Transition is not just a private moment for the two teams involved, but an opportunity for all to deepen the bonds of their membership, to recom-mit themselves to their deepest call: The word "Amen" makes demands. When we express it at a time of leader-ship transition, we are making a series of promises: "Yes," we say, "so be it." "Yes, with God's help I will support and sustain this new leadership team with love and prayer." "And, yes, I accept my own responsibility, which I can-not surrender to others and which no one can take from me, of living the charism and mission of this community fully and actively." Thus is the community itself renewed in a grace-full transition. Notes ~ Two notable exceptions in the United States are "Transitioning from Leadership," a program offered by Lynn M. Levo CSJ through the Saint Luke Institute, Silver Spring, Maryland, and "Life after Elected Leadership: The Journey Continues," a workshop facilitated by Review for Religious Bette Moslander CSJ and Marcia Allen CSJ at Manna House of Prayer, Concordia, Kansas. 2 Psalm 103:1-5. The English translation is from the Liturgical Psalter; ©1994, International Commission on English in the Liturgy (Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 1995). 3 Herb Gardner, "A Thousand Clowns," in The Collected Plays (New York: Applause, 2000). 4 Geographical distance need not be an obstacle. It is possible to have a teleconference on the day of the ceremony, uniting the "Amen" of far-flung members to the prayer of those physically present. Autumn Poppies Brilliant Resilient At end of summer California poppies On spindly stems Shine from shelter Of overhanging rock. Each morning they unfold. What ore produced such gold? Ore from the distant sun? Did that more distant One - The ever-near, Forge it here In the heart of the planet? Through the earth's opaqueness Malting Beauty visible Poppies like bright eyes Give us sight For the Invisible Mary Alban Bouchard CSJ 6~.4 2006 THOMAS G. CASEY Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship Tis is not an era for dumb disciples or witless .1. Christians. Hmnan beings are crying out for intel-ligence and wisdom. Certainly our world needs Christians who reach out in love to the poor, sharing material pos-sessions in lives of love. But it also needs Christians who lovingly share their intellectual gifts, their treasures of wisdom. Western culture suffers intellectual malnu-trition. It needs to supplement its diet with intelligent Christianity. With our intelligence we seek to know the truth about things. Wisdom takes intelligence a step further, for wis-dom is not book knowledge, but practical knowledge. Wisdom integrates knowledge into decision making and behavior. In order to attain wisdom, our lives need to focus on the good. Intelligence and Wisdom, Readiness and Ripeness In Hamlet and King Lear, William Shakespeare puts the words "readiness" and "ripeness" into the mouths of Thomas G. Casey SJ, from Ireland, is professor of philosophy at the Pontifical Gregorian University; Piazza della Pilotta, 4; 00187 Roma, Italy. Revie~ for Religious characters faced with death. Hamlet says "The readiness is all" (Act V, Sc. II). In Lea,; Edgar says, "Ripeness is all" (Act V, Sc. II). Readiness tends to be something active, something we produce through our own efforts. Ripeness is something organic, something that occurs according to its own rhythm, independently of our efforts. Unlike Shakespeare, I prefer to apply these phrases to life rather than death. I see readiness as our contribution to dis-cipleship through our intellects. Ripeness (maturation) is that wonderful moment when the fruit (peach or plum) is at its best, giving what it has received, even at the risk of falling. In the First Letter of Peter, a couple of verses deal explicitly with the spiritual ripeness and intellectual readiness of disciples. These verses are addressed to all Christians, including those facing opposition and ridicule. Peter warns that persecution is a real possibility: "Do not fear their intimidation, and do not be troubled, but sane-tify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always ready to give an answer to anyone who asks you the reason or your hope, yet with gentleness and reverence" (1 P 3:14-15). I see ripeness as related to spirituality and readiness as related to study. In order not to be intimidated by any sort of persecution, we need to "sanctify Christ," rever-ing him and acknowledging him as Lord of our lives. The spiritual is not simply first chronologically, but also first in importance. We must give God priority in our hearts. First comes communion with God and then communication with others. Indeed if we put God first, our lives will inevitably provoke questions from others. They will notice something different about us, and they will inquire about it. Peter seems to imply study. He says we must be ready to give an answer: In order to give an answer, we need to know the answer first. There is no way around the hard work of wrestling with texts and grappling with ideas. It is an answer about the hope in 65.4 2006 Casey ¯ Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship our hearts, our trust that things will work out despite the difficulties, our conviction that there is more to life than our limited temporal existence--although we do not yet see what we hope for, we know it is possible and attain-able. The source of Christian hope is the goodness and love of God, Because Of God's faithful love, we know that the future is full of promise. Peter says we need to explain our faith "to anyone who asks." Different kinds of people will have different kinds of questions. Obviously those who are sympathetic to the hope in our hearts will be easier to answer. But it takes much more careful preparation to know what to say to skeptics and those downright hostile to our worldview. Peter does tell us how to answer: with gentleness and rever-ence. We are to present the truth in love. We do this, not to win arguments, but to win people. The strength of our convictions is to be communicated with tact and respect. Readiness and ripeness are vital, but ripeness has priority. Ripeness refers to who we are, to the gift of God that comes through communion with him, to grace. Communion with God gives unity to our intellectual powers. It is not the strength of our arguments that will win people over, but the quality of our lives, of our rela-tionship with Jesus. We need exemplars. We all benefit from the exam-ple of individuals who put their intelligence at the ser-vice of humanity, whose actions and deeds match their intellectual ideals, who sacrifice themselves for the ideas that claim their allegiance. Of course, we cannot all be geniuses. It is, however, usually not desirable to imitate a person of genius either. Without a spirituality, genius easily loses its way. Readiness without ripeness is not enough. Even a genius of goodwill faces particular challenges and hurdles. Persons of extraordinary intelligence are so Review for Religious used to excelling without effort that they easily forget that this does not apply in daily life. Despite outstand-ing grades they may fail in the task of living. Another problem that can plague persons of extraordinary intel-ligence is their very versatility. They may end up dissipat-ing their energies through taking on too many projects. They do not become outstanding intellectuals simply by having a huge number of ideas. They need to direct the energy of their lives. A hyperdeveloped mind allied to an underdeveloped spirit and heart leads to disequilibrium and worse. The greatest exemplar of a sterling mind integrated in a fully human life of spiritual depth is none other than Jesus. Christians associate Jesus with perfect holi-ness. Many regard him as the paragon of wisdom, but few automatically associ-ate him with intellec-tual brilliance. This failure to see Jesus as a genius is under-standable inasmuch as he did not become a world-renowned academic or found a university or write a seminal book. He apparently never committed his thoughts to paper, and on the only known occasion he did write (Jn 8:6), it was in sand. The best way to dispel any doubts about Jesus' extraor-dinary mind is to read the Gospels attentively. The proof of Jesus' intelligence is especially to be found in his capac-ity to offer humanity something of universal value and his ability to resolve the fundamental problems of human existence.~ But it is also manifest in many other ways. °.~t is not the strength of our arguments that will win people over, but the quality of our lives, of our relationship with Jesus. 65.4 2006 Casey * Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship Jesus did not !et his exceptional intellectual gifts lie idle, The Greatest Exemplar Since he Was not only fully human but also fully divine, Jesus had an amazing intellect to start with. Second, what-ever form his education took it enhanced his intellectual giftedness and impressed his contemporaries. Luke's brief words about the twelve-,,ear-old Jesus in the temple at Jerusalem (Lk 2:42-50) show him listening to the doctors and questioning them. The child intrigues and fascinates these learned men. In fact, he surpasses them. And it is not simply his intellect, formidable though it is, that holds them in thrall. It is the paradox of such prophetic wisdom on the lips of a mere child. Undoubtedly Jesus' mind found nourishment in his communion with the Father. Perhaps Mary spoke to the child Jesus of her own faith and recited Scripture to him. In other words, he may have hid a human teacher as well as a divine teacher. Jesus did not let his exceptional intellectual gifts lie idle. He cultivated them. According to Luke, he con-tinued to grow in wisdom (Lk 2:52). In other words, he grew in his ability to judge things rightly and to react appropriately. Thus he did not use his intellectual powers to accumulate useless facts or trivia. He saw the world truthfully and acted in accord with what he saw. Jesus' intensive prayer and fasting in the desert and the energy and zeal of his public ministry showed that his intellect was at the service of a noble cause. In order for genius to be productive, it must be impelled forward by guiding passion, by a strong motivating force, by the transfor-mative power of desire. Jesus was pressed forward by a consuming love. It was the drive to announce the Good Review for Religious News, to preach the reign of God, to free people from the slavery of sin. We think with our whole being and not just with our intellects. Without physical health and a reasonable level of emotional and moral equanimity, our ability to con-centrate properly, understand fully, and judge rightly is impeded. Since Jesus was without sin, his mind did not lose serenity. He never did wrong and never gave way to destructive emotional behavior. Thus his whole being supported the vision of his intellect. Jesus' way of thinking, as illustrated in the Gospels, displays a brilliant mind at work. Aristotle asserts in his Poetics and even more forcefully in his Rhetoric that the use of metaphors is a mark of great intelligence, some-thing that cannot be taught: "The most important thing is to be good at metaphor. This is the one thing that can-not be learned from someone else, and is a sign of natural talent; for the successful use of metaphors is a matter of perceiving similarities.''2 There is a tendency to think of metaphors as some-thing purely linguistic--a verbal ornamentation that is pretty, but apart from that, pretty ineffective. But a met-aphor such as "You are the salt of the earth" (Mr 5:13) is much more than a figure of speech. It challenges our taken-for-granted relationship with things, it uproots and dislocates us from our customary, understanding of ourselves. More than that, a metaphor enlarges and deepens our knowledge. We understand ourselves and our relatedness in a new way: "I am the vine and you are the branches" (Jn 15:5). Jesus' metaphors--salt, light, bread, sheep, and so on--take us beyond ourselves, toward transcendence. Even though they are made of sensible and tangible realities, they simultaneously lift us up into the realm of the spirit: "I am the bread of life" (In 6:35). Making connections .among disparate 65.4 2006 Casey ¯ Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship 360[ realities, Jesus' metaphors put a fragmented world back together. In John's chapter 15, Jesus speaks of his Father's "house" and of its "many rooms." With the familiarity of these words, Jesus lifts the veil on the afterlife, bring-ing domesticity into the unlimited horizons of the infi-nite. While not denying the difference between earthly life and paradise, Jesus shows that there must be echoes and resemblances. Metaphors galvanize the imagination, inviting us to think differently, and even to act in ways that once seemed impossible. They are the best way, and possibly the sole way, of talking about what is new. They give the imagination liberating and productive space. But even when he is not using metaphors, Jesus helps people in their thinking and action. In the Beatitudes, Jesus proclaims unexpected joys, the kind to be found in the simplicity, tears, gentleness, mercy, purity, peace, and suffering of saints. He helps his hearers think deep thoughts by starting from what they know, from what is familiar to them. In Matthew's chapter 7 he talks of how earthly fathers would not dream of giving a stone to their sons asking for bread, or offering a snake when they ask for fish. After emphasizing this point, Jesus points out that God, being perfect, will be infinitely more likely to answer our requests than human fathers are. A wise person knows how and when to pose ques-tions. Jesus' questions often invite his hearers to recog-nize and follow desires they may not have realized they had. The first question Jesus asks in the Gospel of John is: "What do you desire?" (Jn 1:38). And a related ques-tion appears four Limes in the synoptic Gospels: "What do you want me to do for you?" (Mt 20:32, Mk 10:36 and 10:51, Lk 18:41). Jesus also has a strong logical mind. In Luke 13:10- 16, a synagogue ruler becomes indignant when Jesus heals Review for Religious a woman on the Sabbath. Although she has been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years, the synagogue leader is adamant that this healing should have been done on a working day. Jesus counters by pointing out that nobody has any scruples about untying their ox or donkey on the Sabbath and bringing it out to give it water. The beast has not been thirsty for eighteen years, and the woman, "a daughter of Abraham," has felt a greater thirst over the course of many Sabbaths. Jesus sees even a bigger picture than this. The central theme of Jesus' preaching, the kingdom of God (today one could perhaps say "the dream of God"), is already mysteri-ously present in all the small-scale events and happenings of our daily lives. Jesus intuitively grasps a grand meaning in the tiny mustard seed becoming a large shrub. The goal of human intelligence is to know the real, and to know God, the supreme truth. Intelligence tends toward the truth. The intelligence of Jesus is perfectly pitched to this goal, for he constantly proclaims the kingdom of God. His mind is con-stantly directed toward the revelation or manifes-tation of God. Although God's kingdom is already ~ breaking into the present,Jesus sees that its full realiza-tion is in the future. When the seventy disciples return from preaching, intoxicated with the success of their ven-ture, Jesus says that what should really give them cause to rejoice is the reality that their names are written in heaven (Lk 10:20). Jesus adapts his words to the various people he is dealing with. It is not that he changes the content of his The goal of human intelligence is to know the real, and to know God, ;the supreme truth. 3,61 65.4 2006 Casey ¯ Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship 362' message, but that he pays attention to his interlocutors, and seeks to speak in a way that makes sense to them. He uses many agrarian images and metaphors because he spends so much time talking to people who live and work on the land. But when he is questioned by the Roman procurator Pilate before his crucifixion, Jesus speaks of authority and truth, issues that concern Pilate. Jesus is wise enough to know the limits of intelli-gence. When confronted by the powerful but demonic intelligence of Satan toward the end of his forty-day fast in the desert, Jesus knows that only God's word is strong enough to defeat the Adversary's clever arguments. And so the Word of God quotes from God's word, the Holy Scriptures, and defeats Satan. Ripening To become wise and intelligent disciples, we need to imitate Jesus--not external imitation, but conforming our minds and hearts to Jesus. From this interior mirroring, our external words and deeds will naturally reflect Jesus. A few years ago, the WWJD bracelet--"What would Jesus do?"--became a fad. Such a bracelet certainly points people in a helpful direction. But of ourselves we are not always capable of knowing what Jesus would do. The responses are not written on our wrists. The answers are to be found by meditating and pondering on what Jesus did in fact do. We have looked at some examples of his wisdom and intelligence in action. We need to meditate on such examples, pray over them. The full ripeness of Jesus' wisdom needs to be tasted and appreciated with our spiritual senses. There is a clue to how to do this in the Greek verb menein, frequent in John's Gospel and having a range of meanings: to stay, remain, dwell, abide, last, endure, live. This word applies in a special way to John, because Review for Religious John has great staying power: he stays by Jesus' side, the only one of the twelve present at the cross. It is no acci-dent that John is right next to Jesus at the Last Supper, because John is humanly and spiritually especially close to Jesus. John remains, John abides. To understand this word "remain" better, it helps to turn to the first chapter of John's Gospel. When Andrew and an unnamed disciple start to follow Jesus, he turns and asks them, "What do you want?" These are the first recorded words of Jesus in John's Gospel, in the form of a question, a question that is interested and inviting, pro-found and personal. The two disciples answer Jesus with another question. They ask, "Where do you dwell?" This is not just a geographical question but a deeper, more spiritual one. The disciples have just left John the Baptist. They want something lasting, something that endures, a center that can hold. Different forms of the verb menein appear in chapter 15 of John. Jesus is unraveling implications of the vine and the branches. Jesus points out that trying to improve ourselves and be morally perfect is not what is essential. What is essential is to be in a living relationship with God, to dwell with him, to stay with him, to love him. We do not need to worry about bearing fruit: he will take care of our fruitfulness. We surrender ourselves to him as Lord of our lives, and we stay with him in community with others. We move beyond intelligence to wisdom, beyond rules to love. Communion with Jesus adds ripeness to our readiness and gives our lives unsuspected fruit. Notes ~ This view of intelligence is broadly in line with the stance of the distinguished educational thinker Howard Gardner, well known for his theory of multiple intelligences. According to Gardner, intelligence has to involve some form of productivity, and thus high IQ is itself not suf-ficient. Gardner defines intelligence thus: "Intelligence is a biopsycho- 363 6~.4 2006 Casey ¯ Ripeness Is Everything: Wise Discipleship logical potential to process information that can be activated in a cultural setting to solve problems or create products that are of value in a culture." Howard Gardner, Intelligence Refrained: Multiple Intelligences for the 21st Century (New York: Basic Books, 1999), p. 34. 2 Aristotle, Poetics, translated with an introduction and notes by Malcolm Heath (London: Penguin Books, 1996), p. 37. Personal/Group Reflection Questions 1. "We think with our whole being and not just with our intellects." (p. 359) From my experience, can I give some examples of this kind of thinking? 2. a) What is the evidence I seek when I describe a person as wise? b) If I were to describe Jesus as a wise person, what examples of his wisdom would I cite from the Gospels? 364 Review for Religious ANDREW RYDER The Bible and the Lectionary During my time as a parish priest in Scotland, I became friendly with the local Protestant min-ister. Our two churches were built opposite each other. One day I showed him the Catholic lec-tionary we used at Mass. He was most impressed, and even thought of using it himself. Instead of going for six months giving his congrega-tion a weekly commentary on the Letter to the Romans, he could use the Catholic lectionary's systematic arrangement of short texts from both the Old and New Testaments, which he consid-ered well tailored to the needs and aptitude of Christians today. My colleague's reaction to our lectionary brought home to me yet again that it is one of the most valuable and enduring liturgical changes introduced by the Second Vatican Council. The Sunday and weekday readings from the lection- Andrew Ryder scJ recently wrote on the Holy Spirit's leading in four holy lives. His address remains St Joseph's Centre; Tilston Road, Malpas; Cheshire SY14 7DD; England. appreciating the word 65°4 2006 Ryder ¯ The Bible and the Lectionary 366 ary have put the word of God within the earshot of many Catholics who might never open a Bible, let alone buy one. The three-year cycle of Sunday readings, the two-year cycle of daily readings from the epistles and Old Testament, and the one-year cycle of daily gospels provide a simple and comprehensive introduction to the Scriptures. The Vatican Council did not, of course, invent the lectionary. That misconception could prevent us from seeing the full significance of the lectionary in the life of the parish. The lectionary is not a latter-day insertion of certain biblical texts into our sacramental celebrations. Long before there was any Bible in the modern sense of the word, the lectionary was the ordinary means by which the faithful came in contact with God's word. The early Christians did not have Bibles. Their knowledge came from hearing the sacred text read out during their community gatherings. By such listening, the first gen-erations of the church were being faithful to their Jewish roots. Regular proclamation of the Scriptures had begun long before the Christian era. The origin of our present lectionary goes back to Old Testament times. The Synagogue Liturgy Old Testament books attributed to authors such as Moses (the first five books of the Bible--the Pentateuch), Amos, and Isaiah were, in fact, produced posthumously and often at a much later date. After a number of revi-sions, the final text was put together by editors (also called redactors), who were not producing books for dis-tribution among the people but were preparing material for community use.* While many of the individual books have a much older origin, the present canonical form of the Old Testament was the result of editing that lasted from the fifth to the second century B.C. The material as a whole Review for Religious was "the product of a temple-based community living in and around Jerusalem.''2 The definitive written form comprised of legal material (the Torah), the works of the prophets (including the books of Joshua and Samuel), and the "writings" (Psalms and the wisdom literature).3 The three groups of - books make up the Holy Scriptures of the Hebrew Bible. These Biblia (books) were revered as the word of God and were studied and read aloud in wor-ship. Independently .i of the temple, wor-ship through the word gradually took pride of place in the - ~ synagogue. Here people met on certain days for public services, without having a sacrificial liturgy.4 The precise origin of the synagogues is not clear. The general theory is that such meeting places came into being during the Babylonian Exile, as a substitute for the temple services. They were buildings constructed, not for sacrifice, but for prayer and the reading of the word of God. A fixed form of prayer was one of the inno-vations of the synagogue, and the buildings came to be called "houses of prayer." Synagogues also served as local community centers for the scattered Jewish people of the Diaspora and were pivotal in Jewish life. Though used also for political and social purposes, their primary pur-pose was spiritual and educational.5 Reading and study of the Scriptures took place on the Sabbath and feast days. There is evidence of two inde- By the time of Jesus, the weekly synagogue liturgy, featuring a communal reading :and study of the holy texts, had become the universal Jewish: practice. 367 65.4 2006 Ryder ¯ The Bible and the Lectionary 68] pendent cycles of readings, an annual and a triennial. The annual cycle is associated with the Jewish community in Babylon. A three-year cycle, with shorter readings, seems to have been the practice in Palestine. By the time of Jesus, the weekly synagogue liturgy, featuring a commu-nal reading and study of the holy texts, had become the universal Jewish practice. This service was quite distinct from temple worship and also from anything that existed in contemporary pagan religions. "It was a unique liturgi: cal feature in the ancient world; no such form of worship was known in paganism.''6 In the synagogue service the reading of the Torah was followed by a translation of the Hebrew text into the vernacular (a targum) and further instruction (the sermon). Philo of Alexandria, the lst-century commen-tator on Jewish religious practice, gives a description of communal Sabbath observance in his native city, focus-ing on the exposition of the Torah: "It was customary on every day when opportunity offered, and preeminently on the seventh day, as I have explained above, to pursue the study of wisdom with the ruler expounding and instruct-ing the people what they should say and do, while they received edification and betterment in moral principles and conduct.''7 Philo goes on to say that such instruction could last the whole day. As well as the temple and the synagogue liturgies, family celebrations such as the Passover were also cru-cial for the Jewish religion. Recitation of the Shema (Dt 6:4) and the singing of psalms became an integral part of these festive gatherings, as we see in the Last Supper meal of Jesus with his apostles. Yet, though family mem-bers memorized parts at least of the psalms for such celebrations, the regular contact of the practicing Jew with the word of God was through attendance at Sabbath worship in the synagogue. Review for Religious Jesus chose to begin his public ministry in the syna-gogue of Nazareth (Lk 4:16-30). By his time the scrolls containing readings from the Law and the Prophets were a treasured part of liturgical equipment. Jesus was brought up listening to the word of God when he went for wor-ship with his family,s Hearing the cycle of readings pro-claimed on the Sabbath was how he became acquainted with "the Scriptures" (Lk 24:27). The New Testament At the very beginning, like the rest of the Jews, the followers of Jesus listened to the word of God in the synagogue, as well as joining in the recitation of the Psalms during temple worship (Ac 2:46). But, towards the end of the 1st century, having been expelled from the Jewish synagogues, the Christian communities held their own celebrations in halls or large family residences (1 Co 11:17-22). Remains of these early "house churches" still exist in Rome. A little before 50 A.D., Paul sent the converts he had been instructing in Thessalonika a short letter with some further explanations of his teaching. The newly founded church faithfully preserved it for public use. Paul con-tinued to write similar epistles to encourage and educate other groups of converts. These letters circulated among the fledgling communities and were read out when they assembled.9 About fifteen years later, Mark had the idea of put-ting the stories about Jesus into a continuous narrative, giving Christians their first Gospel. So, as well as "the Scriptures," there could now be readings from Paul and Mark at Christian gatherings. Twenty years on, Matthew's Gospel appeared, probably with liturgical use directly in mind,'° linking the life and teaching of Jesus more closely to his Old Testament roots. At about the same time, 369 6.~.4 2006 Ryder ¯ The Bible and the Lectionary Luke set himself the task of writing a full account of the Christian message and added a second volume, the Acts of the Apostles, to bring the Christian story up to date. Though the work of the final redactors is not so clearly marked, editing can also be detected in the com-pilation of the Gospels and the other readings that even-tually became known as the New Testament. The fourth Gospel gives us the best example of revision (the two end-ings 20:30 and 21:25). John also shows how the Gospel narrative could be linked to the liturgy: "The emphasis on feasts as the occasion and indeed subject matter of Jesus' discourses is underlined by the evangelist in chap-ters 5-10.''1~ The Catholic Lectionary As Christians of the 21st century, we do not study the word of God in a vacuum, but as members of a com-munity; and, while as Catholics we do not claim any particular method of biblical interpretation as our own, we do see the Scriptures firmly placed within the living tradition of the church. In particular, our reading of the Bible is closely linked to the celebration of the liturgy. The Pontifical Biblical Commission makes the point clearly: "From the earliest days of the church, the read-ing of Scripture has been an integral part of the Christian liturgy, an inheritance to some extent from the liturgy of the Synagogue . In principle, the liturgy, and espe-cially the sacramental liturgy, the high point of which is the Eucharistic celebration, brings about the most perfect actualization of the biblical texts, for the liturgy places the proclamation in the midst of the community of believers, gathered around Christ so as to draw near to God.''~2 Though it should lead to personal conversion, the word of God is not in the first place a private message. A true understanding of the biblical texts (working from Review for Religious and always respecting their literal meaning) sees them as God speaking to his people today in the concrete circumstances of their community life, both local and global. "The word of God endures forever." At least in theory the Scriptures have always sustained the church. Today the lectionary offers pastors a marvel-ous tool for the proc-lamation of the word of God to the people of God. Whether at the Eucharist or other liturgical functions, homilies should explain and give contemporary relevance to the mes-sage that has been pro-claimed by the readers. This requires study and serious preparation. With all the developments of recent years in the under-standing of the Bible, it is vital that Christian leaders avail of the opportunities for updating that come their way. ,3 Here I make a plea for greater attention to the Old Testament. The greatest of Christian biblical scholars, St. Jerome, once said that ignorance of the Scriptures is not to know Christ. We can add that ignorance of the Old Testament is not to know the Father of Jesus Christ. Everything that Jesus says about the Father in the Gospels can be interpreted as the fruit of his medita-tion on "the Scriptures." Even his parable of the Prodigal Son, with its beautiful perception of the mercy and love of God, can be traced back to such prophetical utterances as Hosea 11:1-9.14 '. A true understanding of the biblical texts sees them as God speaking to his people today in the concrete circumstances of their community life, both local and global. I371 65.4 2006 Ryder * The Bible and the Lectionary 372 There is a profound unity between the Old and the New Testaments. Yet we often come across the percep-tion that the former is not only old, but also out of date, irrelevant to the church of the third millennium. The Old Testament is the work of ancient masters, teachers who have left us a spiritual legacy of unsurpassed wisdom. Like old wine, this legacy continues to mature and with age becomes ever more potent. The Old Testament covers a thousand years' history of the people of God, while the New Testament spans a period of little more than half a century. Furthermore, the first fifty years of Christianity were a golden age, a time of marvelous growth and expansion throughout the world. The Old Testament, on the other hand, records the fail-ures as well as the successes, the lows as well as the highs, of the people of God. From that point of view, those who are suffering now because of their faith can gain consola-tion from "the loving fidelity" (hesed) of Yahweh, recorded so dramatically in the pages of the Old Testament. Attentiveness to the Word Vatican II describes the liturgy as both the source and the summit of Christian spirituality. The liturgy is the prayer of the church, the Christian community at its most authentic, giving power to every other activity of the peo-ple of God. But we need strategies to help the participants profit by the riches that are available. Over the years I have encouraged people to invest in small personal copies of the lectionary. Pondering the texts proposed by the lec-tionary for the various liturgical seasons is an excellent way of "thinking with the Church." Reflecting on the readings before the celebration can give the actual proclamation a greater impact and deeper personal significance. The following words from the Congregation for Divine Worship's "Suggestions and Proposals" for the Review for Religious Year of the Eucharist (2005) provide a fitting sum-mary of what has been said: "After reading from Sacred Scripture, the expression 'The word of the Lord!' recalls the importance of what proceeds from the mouth of God, and makes us hear it not as something 'distant' from us, however inspired it may be, but as the living word by which God addresses us. We are in the context of a true 'dialogue' of God with his people, a dialogue in which the marvels of salvation are proclaimed to us, and the demands of the covenant continually reproposed. "The Liturgy of the Word is a constitutive part of the Eucharist. We gather together in the liturgical assembly to listen to what the Lord has to say to us--to each and every one of us. He speaks to us here and now, to those who lis-. ten to him with faith, believing that he alone has the words of eternal life, that his word is a lamp for our feet. "Attentiveness to the word spoken is at the beginning of the spiritual life. To believe in Christ is to listen to his word and put it into practice. It is docility to the voice of the Holy Spirit, the interior Master who guides us to the whole truth--not only to the truth to be known, but also to the truth to be lived out." Notes ~ There is plenty of evidence of later editing in the prophetical works of the Old Testament. The Book of Isaiah is a composition of at least three different authors, and only the first thirty-nine chapters are now attributed to Isaiah of Jerusalem. 2 E.E. Meyers and J.W. Rogerson, The Cambridge Companion to the Bible (Cambridge University Press, 1997), p. 228. 3 The Psalter may well have been the first book of the Hebrew Bible. Psalms go back as far as the worship of the first temple (built, accord-ing to tradition, by King Solomon). It can be seen, from the headings accompanying many of the psalms, that they were attributed to Solomon's father, King David. Various psahns were used for the different feasts, especially the autumn festival of the covenant renewal. In all likelihood 373 6Y.4 2006 Ryder ¯ The Bible and the Lectionary there were psalms for different occasions, and what we have in the Psalter is a limited number of the most important ones. 4 Hans Kiing, Judaism (London: SCM Press, 1992), p. 108. 5 Roland de Vaux, Ancient Israel (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1961), p. 343. L.L. Grabbe claims a later starting point for syna-gogue worship in A History of the Jews and Judaism (New York: T & T Clark International, 2004), p. 237. 6 L.I. Levine, The Ancient Synagogue (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), p. 139. 7 Quoted in Levine, Ancient Synagogue, p. 145. 8 See J.P. Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus (New York: Doubleday, 1991). ~ Col 4:16. Even if Colossians is not an authentic Pauline letter, the exhortation to share the message with a neighboring church reflects an early practice. ~0 See J.P. Meier, The Vision of Matthew (New York: Paulist Press, 1979). ~1 Raymond E. Brown, An Introduction to the Gospel of John ed. F.J. Moloney (New York: Doubleday, 2003), p. 304. Of course, these are Jewish, not Christian feasts. Aileen Guilding contended that the dis-courses of Jesus were closely related to the readings in the synagogues on those feasts. The Fourth Gospel and Jewish Worship (Oxford: Clarendon, 1960). The present Catholic lectionary makes ample use of John in the baptismal catecheses of the Lenten Gospels. ~2 The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, 1993, C1. 13 Though proclaiming the word of God is a primary duty of the liturgical celebrant, recent data show that the Catholic Church has cause for concern. Two studies commissioned by Andrew Greeley and quoted in his Priests: A Calling in Crisis, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004, p. 116) indicate that Catholics do not rate their clergy highly in preaching and leadership in worship. Worse still, according to Greeley, priests themselves do not seem aware of the problem, and their failure to communicate the word of God is one of the reasons why people are leav-ing the church. Even if Greeley's research was conducted in the U.S.A., I am sure it is representative of the clergy in other parts of the world. ,4 The New Testament writers drew their "theology" (teaching on God) from the Old Testament. After his conversion Paul changed his view of Jesus, recognizing him as the Promised One. But his belief in "the God of the Fathers," built up through meditation on the biblical word of the Old Testament, remained the bedrock of his preaching on divine providence. His moral instruction, too, presumes the ethical teachings of the Hebrew Bible. Review for Religious BRENDAN KNEALE Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation ~fihnaalt lIi scta ollf tphher caosedsa dtoe stchrei bAinpgo sfdoeusr' mCarejoerd dios cit-s trines: "the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and life everlasting." Experienced people can especially appreciate these great doctrines because they address our deepest human concerns, namely, existential loneliness, personal guilt, physical mortality, and our insatiably infi-nite longings. In other words, we are given four basic doctrines that bring our spirits hope in the face of the most oppressive psychological burdens, namely, guilt, loneliness, mortality, and longing. Our Physical Mortality Perhaps the heaviest of these burdens is the realiza-tion of our inevitable death, though for some of us it is the load of guilt we carry, consciously or unconsciously. Brendan Kneale FSC wrote for us earlier this year. His address is De La Salle Institute; 4405 Redwood Road; Napa, California 94558. 65.4 2006 Kneale ¯ Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation 376 For many people it is a sense of aloneness. Overlying this we have a deep, and necessarily unrequited, appetite for the infinite, a conscious or unconscious longing. One of the worst parts of "the human predicament" is the inevitability of our eventually dying--what Zechariah calls living in "the darkness of the shadow of death." But Zechariah says that, in addition to a promise of liberation from this "shadow of death," Christ brings "knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of sins," making us "free to worship him without fear." No human being, regardless of how fortunate in matters of health or wealth or domestic comfort, is free of impending death and occasional realizations of that inevitability. The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews mentions this terror in chapter 2. He speaks of the "fear of death which keeps us in slavery all our lives." And we recall the emotional passages in some of the Psalms about the burden of death, Psalm 90 for example, along with poignant words from Ecclesiastes. So in the Apostles' Creed we affirm our conviction that there will be for us a "resurrection of the body and life everlasting." The trauma of our earthly death will be really a kind of "birth trauma." This doctrine may well be, in our day and age, the hardest to accept of all Christian teachings. At the same time it is one of the most attrac-tive. Some historians attribute the rapid spread of early Christianity to the news of Christ's bodily resurrection and to people's strong desire to participate in it. Our Guilt We also affirm at the end of the Creed our belief in "the forgiveness of s!ns," a doctrine of enormous consola-tion. On the face of it, our guilt is irremovable because offenses against God are against the Infinite and we are only finite. Recall Psalm 65 with its doublet: "Too heavy R~view for Religious for us our offenses; but you wipe them away." The heavi-ness of guilt can be a force for good as well as evil, but it is still a burden. Guilt is one of the most powerful forces in human behavior. It can accompany both a suspicion of our own culpability and a state of actual culpability. It entails, as the dictionary says, a felt need to repay or requite the persons offended. It is related to feelings of remorse and shame, an awareness and regret over our responsibility for evil. Psalm 65 notes, "We are overcome by our sins." Guilt can cast a shadow over a whole life. Nevertheless, we know it can be relieved, at least in part, by forgive-ness. We need to accept for-giveness as well as bestow it. If we try, instead, to wipe our own offense from our memo- The heaviness of guilt can be a force for good as well as evil, but it is still a burden. ries, the psychological damage may be difficult to assess. Pope St. Clement wrote that it is better to admit one's sins than to harden one's heart. Guilt can drive us to inflict grave harm on ourselves and on others. It can also drive us to do good things. Acquittal or forgiveness removes punishment, but it does not remove the historical fact of guilt. That fact keeps us grateful for forgiveness. Guilt seems different from shame in that it is internal while shame is more external, or per-haps one relates to offenses against God and his law while the other relates to offenses against society and its conven-tions. Shame and guilt sometimes overlap, and in a moral society would do so more frequently. A theological problem about forgiveness may occur to us in connection with Christ's telling the Good Thief on the cross, "This day you will be with me in paradise." It is 65.4 2006 Kneale ¯ Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation easy to see how Christ as a Divine Person could forgive the sins that Dismas committed against God, but it is not easy to see how Christ could forgive sins committed by a thief against his victims--and for Christ to do so without the victims' prior consent. One would think that such forgive-ness belongs also to the victims. Is Christ the spokesman of forgiveness for all victims of the sins of robbery even though he himself is not (or does not seem to be) one of the direct victims? In a parallel question, can Christ forgive the sins we commit against ourselves even if we do not? The answer has to be yes. But on what grounds must we say so? There are probably two or three ways here to try to answer the question. First, incarnational. Christ is not a mere human person; his personhood transcends all human per-sons, and he can speak for us all (just as in his two natures he can speak for human beings as well as for God). He is "the Son of Man" as well as one of the three Persons, so that he is not only our spokesman before God but also the spokesman to all people and for all people. Second, evangelical. Christ tied his gospel message intimately to the forgiveness that we must exercise toward one another. Insofar as his message is successful and insofar as we are with him, we forgive each other and leave vengeance (or the popular term "closure") to God. The Our Father, both in context and content, empha-sizes that point. Also, when in Mark 12:34 Christ praises the scribe, it is because he sees the intimate connection between love of God and love of neighbor. Third, eschatological. It seems that one of the main purposes of the Last Judgment is to demonstrate the justice of God. It is no doubt mysterious, but every thief, including the Good Thief, will have found that justice has been done for his victims, and the victims will find it so to. The word "trespass" in the Our Father is a good choice, since our sins are like trespassing on the rights of God. Review for Religious God is offended but not harmed by our sins. Of course, the reason why he is offended by our sins is that these sins do harm to us and often to our neighbors, all of whom God loves. Loving us, he does not want to see us or anyone else harmed. The adage "Love me, love my dog" can be extended to God's desire that all people love one another. Our Insatiable Longing Is there not at least a third affliction shared by all man-kind, namely, an appetite for more, feeling we can never have enough in this life? We want not only an immortal and guilt-free life, but we want it to be unencumbered in all respects, wholly and completely fulfilled. Thoreau's famous Walden aphorism has it that "the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation," and Virgil wrote: Sunt lacrimae - rerum, et mentem mor-talia tangunt--there are the tears of things, and the realities of death bear on one's spirit. Paul gives a Christian slant to Virgil in Romans 8:21: "It was not for any fault on the part of creation that it was unable to attain its purpose [that is, was subject to futility]; it was made so by God. But creation still retains the hope of being freed, like us, from its slavery to decadence, and to enjoy the same freedom and glory as the children of God. From the beginning till now the entire creation, as we know, has been groaning in one great act of giving birth--and not only creation but all of us." We frequently sense that we are hemmed in by our finite circumstances since we aspire to much more than We often shield ourselves from deeper aspirations and real fears by pursuing and possessing material things. 379 65.4 2006 Kneale ¯ Coda to the Creed: An Appreciation we have. In fact, we possess a capacity for the Infinite (whether we are aware of the Infinite or not). Our life-long dissatisfaction with having an ever greater number of good things in this life should make us aware of this capacity. We, though, often shield ourselves from deeper aspirations and real fears by pursuing and possessing material things. And nonbelievers may try to fulfill such deep aspirations by a life of the mind and an appreciation of the arts--which, after all, are finite too. It was popular a generation ago to refer to the con-ditions of our earthly life as "the human predicament" and to our life as one of "exile." A real pessimism envel-ops some people. The Rumanian-French aphorist E.M. Cioran drew this depressing conclusion: "Some people still wonder if life has a meaning. In fact it all comes down to knowing whether it is bearable." But the Creed promises that our reward is everlasting. All longings will be met, including the desire for meaning. Our Loneliness "The holy Catholic Church" and "the Communion of Saints." We are convinced that we are not alone. It is true that our uniqueness as individuals separates us from all other people. But, as St. Paul implies, the parts of one's body, the leg or the ear, are not individually lonely. When we as individu-als are fully incorporated in the Body of Christ, we will have found a cure for all loneliness, both existential and social. The Church Glorious will be sociable. At the beginning of the Creed, we are assured that God is not lonely: there are three Persons in God. That revela-tion is a source of great consolation, a consolation apparendy denied to Jews and Muslims (whose God is understood as very lonely). In the Christian vision, as Alfons Deeken SJ put it years ago, "God exists as a fellowship and friendship of three Divine Persons. In the Trinity each Person has his existence Review for Religious only in relation to the others, and it is only in existing for the others, in the process of infinite giving and receiving of love, that each One is fully himself. Self-being does not decrease through self-giving. Thus the Trinity, as the source and model of all personhood and community, shows us that the high-est perfection of a person is not self-assertion, isolation, and independence, but rather openness and loving commitment to others" (Growing Old, and How to Cope with It, Paulist Press, 1972). Prayer Suggestion There is a prayer tradition that we choose a prayer formula such as our Creed, and we find ourselves in God's presence as we dwell on individual words or phrases of the prayer formula. Where we find relish and consolation, we remain until we feel that we should move on to another word or phrase. Then, when we have come to the end of our prayer time, we simply pray through the whole Creed in the usual way. In the light of the reflection by Brendan Kneale FSC, we might use the last part of the Creed for our daily prayer in this fashion over some days. We might also use the whole text for our prayer in this way. 65.4 2006 ARMAND NIGRO God's Invitation 382 l~is something awesome. It verges on the incred-le, even the ridiculous. Mmighty God, Creator and Lord of the Universe, wants to be involved and commu-nicate with us. God invites us to spend time with Him, to realize He is truly our Abba, as He is for Jesus, and to taste and relish that relationship This is an invitation to faith, to wait on the Lord, believing that God will reveal Himself to us and share with us His gracious purposes. It is God's invitation to prayer. God Acts In Us If we are open to it, God directly acts in us, speaks to us in every created experience, especially in the sacred Word in Scripture. Every sensible reality, from raindrop to wild weed to human smile, is a partial revelation of God, a finite shape of God's creative love. Every word in Holy Scripture is a humanly conditioned word of God, ever alive, full of meaning and power for us. Armand Nigro SJ is retreat director and pastoral minister at Holy Spirit Center; 10980 Hillside Drive; Anchorage, Maska 99507. Review f~r Religious Take a serious look at this revelation in passages like Psalm 81, Isaiah 55, Hosea 2 and 11,Jeremiah 1, Matthew 11:25, and John 14 and 15. Listening To God This astounding revelation is not merely for our minds; it is a call for us to experience and live in it. But this will never take place unless we take time to listen to God, to savor God's word and let it soak into us. Unless we do this, we'll never really know God. The danger is not just that we not take time to listen to him, but that we may even ignore what we hear. "Don't harden your hearts," God pleads in Psalm 95. But why should God care at all? Let's face it, if I were God, the last thing I'd want to do is be bothered by peo-ple like me. "To hell with them if they won't listen! No skin off my nose if they behave themselves or not. They are just not worth troubling over, especially for a God who has infinitely better and more important things to think about." God's Answer God's answer to this is: "But you are not God. I am. And My thinking is not your thinking and my ways are not your ways (Isaiah 5 5). You are My son, My daughter. I want to be your Abba (Father and Mother to you). This is what I want. This is important to me. Won't you believe me? Won't you let me?" Incredible--absolutely incredible! 65.4 2006 SE!~q D. SAMMON Sexuality and Celibate Chastity: Friends Not Foes living chastely Priest and author Ronald Rolheiser tells of a curious young man finding himself seated next to a woman religious on a plane trip. He asks her a number of questions, mostly about celi-bate chastity. He remarks, "What intrigues me about you, Sister, is your obvious zest for life. Now imagine how much more satisfying that life would be if you also had sex." And her response? "What impresses me about you," she says, "is your sincerity and the fact that you are searching for love. But love and sex are not the same thing. Now imagine how much richer your life might be if you were open to that possibility." How easily people can amiably use mutually intelligi-ble words and not understand each other at all! The word sexuality encompasses much more than genital sex. It includes our way of being in the world as a man or woman, the attitudes and characteristics that we call masculine and Sefin D. Sammon FMS writes again from Fratelli Maristi delle Scuole; C.E 10250; 00144 Roma, Italy. Review for Religious feminine. The word and the reality remind us that we are social beings, that we need and desire friendship and affection. These are God-given ways to be holy. Sexual and spiritual energy should be friends and not foes. Both aim at union with God and others. Human sexuality has more to do with self-transcendence than with self-fulfillment. The human life cycle neatly outlines the discussion of sexuality and celibate chastity. Forming an identity and developing closer relationships are different for you and me at twenty than at forty-five. Twenty years later these opportunities and challenges are different again. Over a lifetime we change in our self-understanding, our knowledge of how the world works, our understanding of our faith in Jesus Christ and our way of living that faith. Why would we not also change in our understanding and appreciation of our sexuality and our celibate chastity? Talking about intimacy, sexuality, and the vow of chas-tity is difficult. People lack effective words or a sense of comfort, and mutual understanding fails to occur. When asked why we chose a life of celibate chastity, we might answer, "For the sake of the kingdom; in order to love everyone and not just one person; to be more available." These answers are "not bad,".but they leave most of us and our listeners unsatisfied. When I use the phrase celiba{e chastity here, I will mean vowed chastity as it is lived within religious insti-tutes today. Celibate chastity is at the very heart of the way of life we call religious, it is not just an ascetical practice, though it may feel that way at times. And, while it is intimately related to our mission, it did not come into existence to make religious congregations' apostolic work more efficient. Celibate chastity is a defining char-acteristic of our way of life and needs to be seen as such. God has reached out to us in Jesus. Jesus has called us to 65.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity Foreclosing ouf identity= sets thestage fqr later problems with.intimacy follow him. The relationship we have with him must be central to our lives. Have you ever asked yourself: "Where am I going in life?" "How am I using or wasting my talents?" "Does my presence in this religious community make any dif-ference at all--would I be missed if I were not here?" Such questions are related to both identity and intimacy, particularly challenging issues for young religious. They need to form a first or provisional identity as they move from their late teens to their late twenties. They need also to face questions of intimacy in their lives. Identity formation gets underway when we ask, "Who am I and what do I cherish or hold dear?" In answer-ing we move though three phases. First we explore our life ¯ options; next we see that we must choose one from among a variety of attractive possibilities; finally we must decide, com-mitting ourselves to a particular identity. Understandably, this process is influenced by culture and custom. The manner in which men and women approach it varies. Nevertheless, exploring options and making difficult choices are part of the life history of almost all who have achieved an identity instead of having one thrust upon them. Some among us foreclose identity. Overwhelmed by the number of options or lacking the wherewithal to succeed in one or another, we quicHy step into an identity that is ready-made, like a shirt that comes ready-made through the mail. We keep it whether it fits well or not. Foreclosing our identity sets the stage for later prob-lems with intimacy. There is hope, though, for, if we have Rt.vie~v for Religious not formed an identity early, we are given other oppor-tunities over the years. Times of transition give us new chances. At midlife, for example, certain reassessments about life can be made. Identity and Intimacy Why spend all this time discussing identity? Because of its relation to intimacy. This word has been defined too narrowly in the past. I suggest this description: Intimacy occurs when we are sure enough about ourselves as per-sons, are so much at home with ourselves, that we can risk closeness with someone else.~ During our early adulthood we are young in our understanding and experience of intimacy. Some would suggest that, while deep loving relationships are possible for young people, they are more the exception than the rule. For most of us mature intimacy is just not possible until later in life. Uncertainty and confusion often sur-round young adult sexuality, and the rich spirituality that lies at the heart of mature celibate chastity is often not available until the middle years. When men and women religious move through their early adult years, intimacy questions arise, and genital-sexuality questions as well. Today the media and a good many people see genital restraint as constricted and par-tial living that leads to a lonely life ahead. How, then, do we prepare those in formation for the challenges they will face? How do we help them grow into a celibate and chaste way of loving others? How do we help them understand, from our own experience, the joys and satis-factions of celibate chaste living? In their late twenties and early thirties some sisters, priests, and brothers fall in love for the first time. This experience, sometimes more infatuation than genuine intimacy, can be an important step toward building lov- 6Y.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity ing adult relationships with other men and women. This outcome can occur, ho.wever, only if they can talk about the relationship. Unfortunately these relationships often remain hidden, shrouded in secrecy. We all need some privacy in our relationships, but, if secrecy overshadows any of them, trouble usually lies ahead. You and I benefit from time together with friends and so does our community. It is natural to look forward to being with people whose very presence is life-giving for us. Religious life itself has always included caring relation-ships that grow over time. Witness the great friendships down through the centuries, friendships that flourished even when rules warned against them. The tendency of most of us is to share our friends with others. Secrecy in a relationship is something quite differ-ent and becomes an obstacle to mature celibate chastity. Secrecy robs people of the opportunity of getting advice from someone outside of the relationship, someone who can keep them honest about what is transpiring. All of us risk deluding ourselves about relationships, particu-larly those with romantic overtones. The decisions we make about them may be flawed. And in these matters people do make decisions. If two religious end up in bed together, they should not claim that angels carried them there. Rather, they need to admit that they made a series of decisions that led to this outcome. We need privacy for some relationships to grow, but we must also must set limits if we are to live with integrity. This is true not only in the lives of priests and religious, but in everyone's life, married or single. Living my life in keeping with the commitments that I made means that my love will not be expressed genitally, but in reality it may be no less intimate. In our sexuality as in so many other areas of our lives, we do well to remember that we are unfinished and incom- Review for Religiozts plete. In making prudent life choices about sexuality, we in turn make many other decisions. With midlife we become more aware that limits have been part of all our best choices. Friendship Any intimate relationship stretches one's identity. But is that not what needs to happen as we move through the stages of our life? We need to make ourselves known, risk our self-definition, and allow others to come close to us precisely so that we can - be known, influenced, and possibly changed as a result of the rela-tionship. Many situa-tions call for the risk of our self-understanding. Close friendships allow - ~ us to relax the stance which we usually assume when fac-ing the world and most other people. Friends reach a part of us that is inaccessible to others; they know us as others do not. Friends are not frightened by one another's weak-nesses, and so they feel free to share their fears, concerns, difficulties. As a consequence they learn to be more at home with themselves, their qualities, their preoccupa-tions. In community life people can risk self-definition, and most do. Some, however, stay on the fringes, moving in and out of the community's life but refusing to let other members have any claim on them. If a weekend activ-ity is planned, fringe members will encourage the others to make their plans, saying they will fit in if they can. Whereas for most of us absence from community activi-ties occurs from time to time, for fringe members it is a way of life. They have difficulty with intimacy; by not Any intimate relationship stretches one's i&ntity. 65.4 2006 Sam,non * Sexuality and Celibate Chastity 390 allowing the group to come close to them, they avoid the "difficulty" of being changed by their presence. They protect their self-definition, and they perpetuate their isolation, living alone in the midst of the group. Their relationships fail to flourish. What they may point to as intimacy is often a pseudo-intimacy. The consequences of refusing to risk self-definition are grave. The persons deny themselves one of life's greatest gifts, the experience of friendship. Situations involving cooperation and competition can help us to stretch our self-understanding. Working together with others on a task, we become aware of per-sonal gifts and abilities not recognized previously. We may discover that we have skills that help a group com-plete an assigned task. Athletes have similar experiences. In difficult games they may discover unknown talents and learn endurance as they make an all-out effort to win. The experience of intimacy can be a help to prayer. A corollary is that people may apply their fear of human intimacy to God as well, keeping God at arm's length so that even God does not disturb supposedly well-thought-out plans. Such plans are far from the indifference sought in making a good discernment. Only when I am indiffer-ent am I free enough to appreciate what is in God's heart for me. If I pray regularly and enjoy intimacy with God, God's desire has a good chance of becoming my own, for my own benefit. Authentic discernment demands that I risk intimacy with God, talking over my mixed feelings, my fears, in a closeness that could change my self-defini-tion and my life. Do not, however, confuse self-disclosure with inti-macy itself. True intimacy includes caution and selectiv-ity. It is altogether different from telling one's life story in great detail to a total stranger at a social gathering-- something most of us back off from in embarrassment, Review for Religious excusing ourselves for a moment, with the hope that upon our return the person will be just as animatedly engaged with someone else. Real relationships take time. Some parts of ourselves, shared easily at the right time in a relationship, could not have been spoken about earlier. Though friends are people with whom you and I share confidences, they are much more than that. Over time a history develops between two friends. They prove themselves mutually dependable. Eventually they realize that they valued each other long before they ever thought of anything like an evaluation. Friendship between Men and Women Using but a few words, the psychologist Carol Gilligan has put into perspective the differences between men and women. "It all goes back, of course, to Adam and Eve," she says, "a story that shows, among other things, that if you make a woman out of a man, you are bound to get into trouble." When it comes to relationships, men and women have differences in style and expectation. In a number of cultures men learn early in life how to be part of a team. As they grow up, teamwork continues to be important for them both in work and play. The bonds that men develop, then, depend more on solidarity than self-disclosure. It is the things they do together that bind them. When they do not have those things to do, many men stop com-ing together. Among women, relationships are usually more important than anything they might do together. Women tend to value their friendships with other women especially for the emotional support and understanding they receive; they spend time together exploring their personal experience and inner world of meaning. Men tend to be uncomfortable when they sense that a woman friend wants them to reveal more about them- I391 65.4 2006 Sammon * Sexuality and Celibate Chastity 392[ selves than they care to. Women tend to be disappointed that their male friends are not so forthcoming in emo-tional sharing as they would like them to be. Men and women, though, agree strongly on this: in cross-gender relationships, the issue of sex has to be resolved before the friendship can deepen. If a man and woman in a rela-tionship have a strong sexual attraction to one another and fail to talk about these feelings with someone else, trouble often lies ahead. Men and women, of course, differ also in other ways than we have mentioned, but friendships continue to flourish between them. With friends we do not have to be altogether consistent; we can think and feel differently on alternate days with little consequence. During periods of significant personal change, friends can and should be specially aware and considerate, not exaggerating per-sonal ideas of how things are "supposed to be." All people haveboth a masculine and a feminine side within their personalities. Every culture has its gender images, but rigid adherence to them can be quite prob-lematic, leading to distorted emotional development and difficulties with intimacy. Early in life most women are unaware of their masculine side, and the same can be said of most men and their feminine side. For a relationship of mature intimacy, the masculine and feminine aspects in us must have a certain level of integration. This is true regardless of sexual orientation. During their twenties and thirties, men and women struggle with intimacy in different ways. A man often sees a danger in closeness, fearing it will limit his inde-pendence. He shies away. A woman is often apprehensive about separation. At this time in their lives, while men are having difficulty with closeness in a relationship, women are finding it hard to be separate and be their individual selves. A failure to integrate masculine and feminine sides Review for Religious gives rise to several consequences. A woman finding her masculine side threatening shies away from demonstrat-ing her natural competence in one area of life or another. A man fearing implications of his more intuitive feminine qualities gives the mes- - . sage that he is unavail-able for relationship. He can appear sulky, with-drawn, overly sensitive. Midlife is a good time for doing this work of integration. Increasingly aware that we have lived at least half of our earthly life already, we become less concerned about gender image and we grow in our ability for genu-ine closeness and in our self-knowledge and acceptance. Some aspects of ourselves defy greater self-knowl-edge. These shadow traits, often obvious to others, are hidden from us. When a man projects the positive quali-fies of his own feminine side onto a woman, she becomes highly desirable to him--the object of his fantasies and sexual longings. This situation becomes, in time, suffo-cating for a woman. As she develops her own personality in the relationship, she finds this same man now blaming her somehow for his unhappiness and negative moods. When a woman projects her unconscious masculine side onto a man, she overvalues him, seeing him as a hero and guide. Over time, however, she begins to see her earlier savior and guide as the source of all her feelings of belittlement and disappointment. Projection does little or nothing to foster mature intimacy. It fosters mutual fascination and infatuation, which can be important steps toward mature intimacy, For a relationship of mature intimacy, the masculine and feminine aspects in us must have a certain level of integration. 65.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity but relationships built on this foundation do not last. In such a relationship the persons are actually in love with themselves. 394 Sexual Orientation In any discussion about human sexuality and celibate chastity, we need to say a word about sexual orientation. There have always been, are now, and always will be homo-sexually oriented .men and women as members of religious congregations. Among this group are persons of exemplary celibate chastity; others have stretched the meaning of the vow of chastity beyond recognition. But the same can be said of their heterosexual brothers and sisters. I believe that some recent discussions about the area of sexual ori-entation have taken the wrong focus. Rather than empha-sizing people's heterosexuality or homosexuality, we would better direct our energies towards helping everyone called to religious life to live lives of celibate chastity. The area of sexual orientation is complex. There are many different approaches in discussing the matter. Some use the term "transitory homosexuality" to describe a sit-uation in which a person finds himself or herself sexually attracted to a member of the same sex but is not, in fact, homosexually oriented. If this is the case with a novice, what the formation personnel need is understanding and compassion. Others would contend that more than a few people, while defining themselves in the main as hetero-sexual or homosexual, find that their sexual feelings and fantasies are more accurately described as falling along a continuum. Formation personnel and other religious need to be at home with their own sexuality and orienta-tion and, of course, with their choice to live in a celibate chaste way. Of particular concern in recent years has been the abuse of male children at the hands of the clergy and Review for Religious male religious. There is no empirical evidence linking homosexuality with this behavior called pederasty. As tragic as sexual abuse is for all involved, wrong would not be righted nor children protected by policies based on the faulty notion that homosexuality and a predisposi-tion to abuse children are linked. Mention is sometimes made about the destructive effect that a gay subculture can have when it is present in a house of formation, a seminary, or a religious com-munity. Subcultures, be they sexual or otherwise, have no place in religious life. When they do emerge, however, it might be more profitable to seek the reason for their exis-tence rather than simply insist that they cease to exist. In consecrated life our primary identity must be our identity as religious persons. No other identities--family, intellectual, interpersonal, sexual--none of these nor any other can take precedence over our identity as religious persons. That identity more than anything else shapes our faith, our self-understanding, and our journey of self-transcendence. Spiritual Growth If sexuality lies at the center of the spiritual life, the spiritual life is likewise at the heart of genuine celibate chaste living. For our celibate chastity, Jesus Christ must rest at the center of our lives. For that to happen, we must accept Jesus' love for us in a special way. The rela-tionship that each of us has with him and its pattern of development are unique. Everyone's spirituality must be tailor-made to reflect these realities. As religious all of us have been presented with formulas and plans of action that carry with them some guarantee of success in the spiritual life, but unfortunately those formulas and plans of action tend to ignore the unique relationship that we each have with Jesus. They may even get in the way. 65.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity 396 To ensure that our life with God is at the heart of our celibate chastity, we need be ready for spiritual awaken-ings, willing to explore the longings that are present in them. Spiritual awakenings may be like sexual awakening at the age of puberty. They may be startling or more gradual. Our desire for God grows. Finally we become vividly aware that God's love is given to us freely with no strings attached, without our having earned it. The idea of having to earn God's love is just out of the question. To be involved with Jesus Christ means embracing the paschal mystery. He asks us to imitate him, not admire him. When you and I dedicate our celibate lives to him, to closeness to him, we must realize that it includes suf-fering and death. Relationships do not just happen; they take time and effort. Throughout the ages spiritual writers have insisted that personal prayer is essential to a relationship with the Lord. For that bond to become strong, moments of prayer must eventually become regular and longer, ide-ally an hour each day. More than a few in religious life, however, will plead a lack of time. That claim rings true, because the activity.of some of us today borders on the pathological. It is the single greatest threat to our inte-rior life and leads only to greater self-preoccupation, an overemphasis on efficiency, and restlessness. Those who are overly busy are less likely to encounter Jesus in the marketplace of everyday life; they lack sufficient inte-riority. An obsession with efficiency leaves little room for spontaneity, for an openness to wonder. Restlessness, compulsively seeking one experience after another, inter-feres with developing a spirit of solitude, hospitality, and genuine prayer. By way of contrast, the fruits and gifts of the Holy Spirit are evident in the lives of those who pray regularly. Numbered among those fruits are charity, a spirit of joy, Review for Religious patience, forbearance, faith, and reverence for oneself and others. The gifts include wisdom, understanding, coun-sel, knowledge, piety, fortitude, and fear of the Lord. Are these fruits and gifts of the Spirit present in our lives? If not, we need to wonder about how seriously we take our relationship with Jesus Christ. We need to decide what we need to change in our lives in order to practice what we espouse publicly. Our Christian life, at its heart, is about a relationship with Jesus Christ. That relationship is the solution for my restiveness, the answer to my ques-tions, the source of my joy. There will always be people in our world who con-sider those who live our kind of life to be naive and foolish. And we are. Naive, because the choice does not follow social convention; foolish, because to embrace and live well a life of celibate chastity leads inevitably to a revolution of the heart. Bernard Lonergan SJ calls it "an otherworldly falling in love. It is total and permanent self-surrender without conditions, qualifications, reserva-tions." Living such a life bears great fruit. We discover the true meaning of passion, becoming more deeply spiri-tual and sexual at the same time. Over time we become more at home with ourselves and with God. For the per-son who embraces fully the challenge of a life of celibate chastity, the description "deeply spiritual and profoundly human" becomes eventually the only one that is apt. It tells the whole story. Let us pray that we have the cour-age to make it our own. References David Finkelhor and Associates. A Sourcebook on Child Sexual Abuse. Newbury Park, Calif.: Sage, 1986). Bernard Lonergan. Method in Theology. London: Herder and Herder, 1972. James Nelson. Intimate Connection: Male Sexvcafity and Mastwline Spiritualily. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988. 397 6Y.4 2006 Sammon ¯ Sexuality and Celibate Chastity Ronald Rolheiser. The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christhm Spirituality. New York: Doubleday, 1999. --. Forgotten among the Lilies. New York: Doubleday, 2005. Lillian Rubin. Intimate Strangers: Men and Women Together. New York: Harper and Row, 1983. --. Just Friends: The Role of Friendship in Our Lives. New York: Harper and Row, 1985. Sandra M. Schneiders. Selling All: Commitment, Consecrated Celibacy, and Community in Catholic Religious Life. Mahwah: Paulist, 2001. Sean Sammon. An Undivided Heart: Making Sense of Celibate Chastity. Staten Island: Alba House, 1993. Sean Sammon. "Celibate Chastity: An Affair of the Heart." Pastoral Review, April 2001. John Sanford. Invisible Partners. Ramsey: Paulist, 1980. 398 Reflection/Discussion Questions 1. After reading Sammon's article, are we able to give a more adequate answer to the question, "Why do we choose a life of celibate chastity?" 2. Have we found that our experiences of intimacy with others has been a help in the fervor of our prayer life? 3. Let's explore the implications of this sentence: If sexuality lies at the center of the spiritual life, the spiritual life is likewise at the heart of genuine celibate chaste living. Review for Rdigious ANNETTE M. PELLETIER "Bride of Christ": Timely Sign in Signless Times? ~fohodi lceo sutartn adti nthge i nC laitnheo tloic g Uetn aiv ceurspi toyf ocfo fAfemee irnic tah,e a young woman student, noticing that I was a religious sister, tapped me on the shoulder and asked earnestly, "Sister, are there any other sisters on campus? Sisters are seldom seen these days. W-here are they?" I said, "Oh, yes, there are sisters on campus, both as professors and as students. You might not see them, but they are here." Some time later, another young woman student, the leader of the women's vocation discernment group, invited me to accompany them on their fall retreat, to talk with them about the meaning of "bride of Christ," and to say something on "the chastity bit." Her question jolted me. How long had it been since I had thought of myself as a "bride of Christ"? The other question encour-aged me. Young Catholic women are asking, "Where are 399 Annette M. Pelleder IHM wrote two articles for us a dozen years ago. Her address is Immaculate Heart Convent; 6600 Little Falls Road; Arlington, Virginia 22213. 65.4 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Cl~rist" How curious that ~chastity,: maligned and misunderstood in contemporary ~ulture, is a virtue tha~t youth see and wonder abouL 4001 the sisters?" The tone seemed to say we are missed or at least missing. They are also wondering about that "chas-tity bit." Are Catholic religious women really "brides of Christ"? It seems to me that, at least on one campus in the United States, women university students are asking what it means for a Catholic woman to be consecrated to God as a religious sister. Could such interest or curiosity be a new sign in our times? Among religious women, post-Vatican II theologi-cal reflection on the identity and mission of the conse-crated life abounds. Vatican II's decrees Pe~fectae caritatis (1,5) and Lumen gentium (42) and, more recently, Pope John Paul's Vita con-secrata (3,4,5) situated the consecrated life at the heart of its mys-tery and mission, a gift from God to the church for the church. The International Congress on the Consecrated Life (Rome, 2004) por-trayed religious life in the postmodern era as a way of life imbued with a Passion for Christ, Passion for Humanity (Pauline Books and Media, 2005). Sandra Schneiders's trilogy, Religious Life in the New Millennium, examines the "qualitative dif-ference between questions religious ask today in compari-son with two decades ago. Selling All (vol. 2) retrieves and explores consecrated virginity as symbolic of the "unitive and transformative bond" between the Christian woman and Christ.4 In reference to the "chastity.bit," the body, as symbol that spea.ks its own "language," is the subject of theological reflection. Thus, the physical reality of the Review for Religious virginal body retains its place in our time as a timeless sign of the "kingdom come" and "coming" in every age and stage of history. Consecrated virginity has been and remains "exceptional gift of grace., a special symbol of heavenly benefits" (PC 12). How curious that chastity, maligned and misunderstood in contemporary culture, is a virtue that youth see and wonder about!6 Paradoxically, the youths' queries suggest that the way of life that is the "most perfect expression of the gospel on earth" (VC 18) has evolved into a symbol without a sign. Current theo-logical reflection digs deeply into the nature of symbol. Symbols implicitly convey meaning and affectively draw us into their world where relationships are effected. Certainly these youthful seekers' questions merit an answer. And what could be a more appropriate source for instruction and inspiration than the signs and symbols of the church's liturgical rites for this way of life? Relying on the ancient dictum lex orandi, lex credendi, lex agendi (as the church prays, the church believes and acts), we will examine how the signs, symbols, texts, and gestures in the "Rite of Religious Profession for Women" (here-after RPW) illuminate what it means to be a "bride of Christ.''1 The nuptial metaphor was applied to consecrated vir-ginity in the early church. Since apostolic times certain women freely dedicated their virginity to God, and the church "set her seal on this high vocation by. conse-crating those who followed it by a solemn prayer" (RPW ix). Gradually this public, solemn blessing was expanded and enriched with ritual gestures to more clearly manifest the meaning of a Christian woman's total commitment to Christ, the Bridegroom of the church. As the centuries passed, however, embellishments distorted, romanticized, or detracted from the original meaning of the rite. Vatican II's Sacrosanctum concilium occasioned the restoration of 401 65.4 2006 402 the splendor, dignity, and symbolism of the ancient "Rite of Consecration of Virgins" as well as the formulation of two distinct and separate rites, "Religious Profession of Men" and "Religious Profession of Women" (SC 9). Unlike the "Rite of Consecration of Virgins," the "Rite of Religious Profession" includes consecrated celi-bacy and poverty and obedience as well. We will restrict our focus to the meaning of nuptial metaphor (bride of Christ) in the "Rite of Religious Profession for Women." Basic to this consideration is that the body itself is a sym-bol. The body merits attention as the place of sacramental encounter, "the place of symbolic convergence--through gestures, words, postures, . . . and silences" (Chauvet, 152)--for making us believers. The body means some-thing. What one does with one's body or what is done by others to the body has significance. The choice for consecrated chastity makes the body stand for a religious meaning. Body gender carries inherent meaning in human relationships, human personhood. Who were the "brides of Christ" in early Christianity? This article cannot do justice to the copious literature ancient Christian writers devoted to Christian women virgins. Ambrose, Jerome, and Augustine used nuptial metaphors from Scripture in describing Christ and the church, the soul and God, and the Christian virgin and Christ. The Christian woman's choice to follow Christ by renouncing marriage, childbearing, and child rearing endowed her with a new status in the ecclesial community. As "bride of Christ" she could be no one else's bride. The permanent state of virginity has been seen as a life "more blessed than the martyrs," and "a fleck of divine gloW in a dark world." The virgin was honored by the commu-nity as uniquely holy and pure "the way God is holy and Review for Religious pure." Christian virgins--not unique in the practice of virginity in the ancient world--were unique in embodying a permanent state of exclusive dedication to Christ. Virginity of this nature was unknown in antiquity. It was seen in the Roman Empire with suspicion and con-sidered a threat to both the family and the state. Christian virgins testified to their chosen state in life "with such passion that they were ready to die rather than renounce it" (Schneiders, 183). In fact, the women's choice of vir-ginity was a radical act of personal autonomy rare during this period in history. The nuptial metaphor was a par-ticularly effective declaration of a unique and influential status. These women were exempt from the social norm of being married to a husband "because they were already married--to Christ" (Schneiders, 183). The bridal meta-phor expressed the ultimate form of discipleship practiced by women. What was their role in the Christian community? Christian women virgins, then, had a highly sym-bolic presence and endowed an ecclesial community with a certain prestige. The sacredness of the human body bridged this world and the next. As the Roman Empire began to crumble, Christian virgins exemplified "conti-nuity in its most pure state" (Brown, 271), a certainty of the reality of the heavenly kingdom come. This distinct embodiment of a relationship with Christ witnessed to the certainty of eternal salvation in an uncertain world. The virgin's espousal to Christ was an embodied sacrality. The church's official recognition of this state of life abrogated the paterfamilias right and duty to arrange (or oblige) a daughter's marriage. This new and unique state of life testified eloquently to a spiritual intimacy with Jesus the Lord. Local churches welcomed them and honored a way of life eloquently embodying the holiness of God. 403 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Gbri~t" 404 Liturgical rites acknowledged their consecration to God as bride of Christ. Christian women who responded to this form of dis-cipleship were solemnly blessed by the bishop. Depictions of the "veiling of virgins" inscribed in the Roman cata-combs indicate that a blessing ritual designated the new status of a Christian woman now publicly recognized as a bride of Christ. Borrowing from Roman marriage customs, the bishop solemnly veiled the virgin in the assembly of Christians in the local church. Henceforth the bishop would be her special protector. The words of the episcopal blessing and the act of veiling conveyed the meaning of the ineffable mystery of bodily consecration to God. This was a singularly significant event for Christian communities immersed in the uncertainties of the declin-ing empire. To Christians the virgin's body heralded the future status of all the disciples of Christ who awaited a new heaven and earth where men and women "neither marry nor are given in marriage" (Lk 20:35). Christian virgins embodied the hope that "the things of the resur-rection stand at the door." Gradually the varying rites were compiled and pre-served in the Roman Pontifical. As the historical con-texts changed, consecrated virgins left their families and formed small communities of women. These evolved into monasteries and more recently into mobile apostolic reli-gious congregations. Consequently the theological rich-ness of the rite was obscured by romantic embellishments depending on the cultural context and ethos of the reli-gious congregation. So the revision of the Roman Ritual mandated by Vatican II occasioned the restoration of the ancient "Rite of the Consecration of Virgins" and the cre-ation of two others, the "Rite of Religious Profession for Women" and another for men (SC 80). These two new rites were to manifest a "more mature theology of the Review for l~eligious religious life and its connection to the mystery of Christ and the church." "Bride of Christ": A Timely Sign in Signless Times? How, then, does the "Rite of Religious Profession" incorporate nuptial imagery and remain linked to the ancient origins of the consecrated life? How does the new rite express the ineffable mystery of a bridal bond to God that surpasses maternity, paternity, friendship, and even discipleship? According to Schneiders (192), nuptial spirituality remedies "the ontological inequality" between the divine Jesus and the human virgin. "One of the most striking, not startling features of nuptial spirituality is the sense of equality with Jesus that the mystics express" (103). John of the Cross's Living Flame of Love and Teresa of Avila's Interior Castle employ nuptial images to express the union of the soul with God. Schneiders notes that Christian spirituality embraces nuptial imagery for men and for married couples, for example, the mysticism of the celibate John of the Cross, married mystics like Catherine of Genoa, and also St. Paul in texts referring to the church of Corinth (2 Co 11:2) (199). Since the religious life stands as "an abiding enact-ment" of the way of life of "the supreme consecrated one, Jesus Christ" (VC 22), the liturgy must convey this. This way of life itself witnesses to the church far beyond any apostolic service? The liturgy strives to enunciate the full meaning of this way of life. This meaning remains a challenge for religious today: the rediscovery of their life's symbolic and transcendent meaning.3 The rite deals with discipleship, communion of life, service, mission, witness, union with God. The parts--the Call, Examination, Solemn Prayer for Candidates, Words 6~.4 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Christ" 4061 of Profession, Solemn Blessing, Bestowal of Insignia-- announce and enact this "new and special consecration" (VC 31, RPW 22-77). True to the origins of consecrated virginity in the church, the Rite of Profession "begs God's grace for them by its public prayer and puts them in God's hands, blesses them and unites their offering with the Eucharistic Sacrifice" (RRP 1). But what signs signify the "special grace of intimacy of spousal communion which distinguishes this state in life from all others" (VC 16)? How does the rite "recall that wonderful marriage made by God which will be made fully manifest in the age to come, and in which the church has Christ alone for her spouse" (PC 12)? The inclusion of the Rite of Religious Profession in the Mass links it with essential life in the church. A short analysis of the rite can shed light on the bridal image of a consecrated woman disciple. The words of the Opening Prayer insert religious pro-fession into the heart of the mystery of the church. In the "Rite of Temporary Profession," the presider acknowl-edges that the Lord has "inspired our sisters with the resolve to follow Christ more closely," and he asks that "they may be able to offer you the perfect gift of their loving service" (RPW 286) In the "Rite of Perpetual Profession," the opening prayer praises God because "the grace of baptism has borne fruit in the lives of your ser-vants so that now they strive to follow your Son more closely" (RPW 288). Since these and other texts consis-tently refer to the candidates as "servants," both disci-pleship and mission are integral to the consecrated life. Similarly, ritual elements such as the Call, the Request, the Examination of Resolve, the Litany of the Saints, and the Act of Profession are reminders that religious profes-sion announces the Christian woman's resolve to embrace a way of life that makes present the risen Christ in history Review for Religious (VC 19). The candidates solemnly express their desire to publicly proclaim this radical form of discipleship (RPW 64). Their own words effect the transformation of their lives (Schneiders, 100). Words profess the invisible and ineffable mystery of this "new and special consecration" (VC 31). At this time the professed becomes a public sign and prophetic voice of the church as bride (VC 15,19). The liturgy endows the human word with the power to take baptismal consecration to the nth degree. Henceforth the professed stands for and in the eschaton: the great wedding banquet has already begun. The heavenly Bridegroom is here and waits to be met (Mr 25:1-13). Where, then, does the rite incorporate the nuptial metaphor? Bridal imagery that existed in the ancient "Rite of the Consecration of Virgins" was not dis-carded when the Roman Missal was revised. It was integrated into the rite along with the other two evangelical counsels, obedience and poverty. Canonically the religious life is a stable form of life which "manifests in the church the wonderful marriage brought about --- by God, a sign of the future age"; the consecrated person's "whole existence becomes a continuous worship of God in charity" (canon 607, ~1). And so the rite enacts the choice of Catholic women to live their baptismal consecration radically. The evangelical counsels manifest embodied chastity chosen for the sake of the kingdom, individual ownership renounced by poverty, and personal autonomy relinquished through obedience (PC 5,6). Religious profession announces the Christian woman's resolve to embrace away of life that makes present the risen Christ in history. 407 65.4 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Christ" 4O8 How and where is nuptial symbolism incorporated into the rite? The Liturgy of the Word offers various various biblical texts that express nuptial imagery. Nuptial imagery captured the intimacy between Yahweh and the Israelite community, particularly in prophetic literature. Hosea's voice echoes across the centuries bridging cov-enants: "I will betroth myself to you forever" (Ho 2:14). Similarly, Wisdom literature speaks of "Love as strong as death" (Sg 8:6-7) and the call of the beloved, "Rise my love and come" (Sg 2:8-14). Thus the word proclaimed awakens the memory of a vital relationship in the past that is to be enacted in the here and now of today. Nuptial themes are also evident in other elements of the rite. In the Request or Call, the presider asks the can-didates what they ask of God and his church. The reply, "We ask for perseverance in the following of Christ our Bridegroom in this religious community all the days of our lives" (RPW 59), links discipleship with the bridal image. After the public pronouncement of vows and the signing of the document of profession on the altar, the presider prays for God's blessing on the professed in the name of the assembly and praises God for this gift to the church (RPW 69,70). Nuptial imagery is woven into the text of the prayer as God is praised and thanked for the ancient covenant by which the human family was made "your bride radiant with your own likeness" (RPW 72). Then the new covenant in Christ is recalled and imaged in and through the church, which was formed "into his bride [and loved by him] with so great a love that he gave himself up for it" (RPW 72). The prayer concludes with an acknowledgment of God's loving wisdom: You have singled out many of your daughters to be disciples espoused to Christ and to receive the honor of his love. Holy Church shines with their rich variety, Review for Religious a bride adorned with jewels, a queen adorned in grace, a mother rejoicing in her children. Then the presider prays for the professed that they always be one with you in loving fidelity to Christ, their only Bridegroom . May they not fear him as their judge, but hear the voice of their Bridegroom lovingly inviting them to the wedding feast of heaven. (RPW 72) The words are followed by gestures and symbols that illuminate the invisible-to-the-eyes consecration. Depending on local custom, the professed are presented with a ring as "insignia of profession" (RPW 73). In Western cultures the wedding ring stands for this radical realization of the bap-tismal bond. As the ring is presented, the presider says: Receive this ring, for you are betrothed to the eternal King; keep faith with your Bridegroom so that you may come to the Wedding feast of eternal joy. (RPW 73) Nuptial imagery is reinforced as the choir and people respond singing: I am betrothed to the Son of the eternal Father, to him who was born of the Virgin Mother to be savior of the entire world. (RPW 75) Similarly, the "Rite of Temporary Profession" retains the ancient practice of the Presentation of the Veil to symbolize the new state of life conferred by the act of profession (RPW 34).4 The presider entrusts the newly professed with the veil, saying, "Receive this veil, which proclaims that you belong entirely to Christ the Lord and are dedicated to the service of the Church" (RPW 34).s Meanwhile the choir and people intone the refrain from the Song of Songs (3:3), "I have sought the Lord whom I love with all my heart" (RPV¢ 35, 36). The assembly echoes in song what is affirmed by the candidate and con-firmed by official representative of the religious congrega-tion. Distinct from the order of Christian virgins in the 4O9 65.4 2006 Pelletier ¯ "Bride of Cbrist" 410 early Church, this new and unique consecration is lived in community life, not in the privacy of a family home. Clearly, every element of the rite is "theologically expressive of the mystery and event being celebrated." Gestures and symbols act as visible signs of the invisible reality of interior consecration. The liturgy conveys the meaning of an ineffable experience "in such a way that it becomes accessible to thought." As already mentioned, by the 4th century the veil.(flammeura) had been brought into the liturgy from Roman wedding ceremonies. The velatio (veiling) of virgins signifies that the virgin's body is "conse-crated by the divine Spirit," "dedicated to the Lord," "con-secrated to God," "consecrated at God's altars.''6 The rite signifies a new relationship of the Christian woman with Christ and with the Christian community, mediated by the bishop, as 'representative of the local church. The new sta-tus of the Christian woman virgin, bride, and disciple of Christ always stood out in the ecclesial community.7 Thus, the chastity and the meaning of "bride of Christ" coincide in this rite's blend of baptismal conse-cration and radical discipleship. Lex orandi informs lex credendi and transforms lex vivendi. Our catechesis on the meaning of the "bride of Christ" has relied on the lit-urgy to illuminate the meaning hidden in shadows. The Christian woman religious is both bride and disciple.~ In the crisis of symbolism in Western cultures, the symbolic value of the veil, ring, or any distinctive form of dress fares badly. We

Issue 38.4 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published bi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Robin 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. © 1979 By REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year; $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS~ P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 5.5802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor July, 1979 Volume 38 Number 4 Correspoudence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 4.28; 3601 LindeH Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Journey Into Ancestral Fear Mary Grant, L.S.A. Sister Mary's work in strife-torn Belfast has influenced much of her writing. Last year, Our Sunday Visitor published "'Yes in Belfast" under the title, "Yes Lord," which has proven to be a popular source of meditations for many in the United States. She is also involved in Christian Life Communities. Our correspondence address is through Wilbert Forker; 2 Bristow Park; Upper Malone Rd.; Belfast 9; Ireland. Walking up The Falls, reaching out in my heart to the whole city . one with the countless people who have trod this ground through many centuries . Gathering perceptions: sounds, stir-rings of life, the signs ofdeeperlife. Opening up to the signs of death, decay: the burnt-out chimney, the gaping walls--another life, an-other force . The new trees planted: that they would represent Life--not just trees planted on the green of the dead . Gathering all into a unity, integrating all: "Listen to the cry of Your People, Lord! My heart cries their cry--the cry of a thousand years is gathered into Your Presence. When I came to live in this city first, my immediate reaction to hesitant queries was, "Of Course I'm not afraid!" Then one night I dropped a friend in East Belfast, a part of the city I' wasn't familiar with. I missed a turn and found myself lost. Every tiny street was blocked at the end; every time I turned, my headlights picked up "King Billy" on the walls--and slogans! It seemed.every door opened to see who was in the strange tar: I was seized With nameless terror. I could not get out and ask my way. I felt threatened, trapped, alone! 481 4B2 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 In that night I realized how the fears of our environment had entered into me, despite myself. I understood the fears of those who walked alone at night, defenseless. I understood the fear of many people who had not left their district for years, never entered the "unknown" behind the barriers. Some children have never seen behind the barriers that their parents have erected. How do we learn to break through these fears? How do we become revitalized from the paralysis which hampers us? It is easy to quote. "Per-fect love casts out fear" (IJn 4)! But the truth is that we are a covenant people who have been unfaithful to that spirit of love and community by which all men were supposed to recognize the disciples of the Lord. I believe we have first of all calmly to acknowledge that fact, without blame or judgment on either side. And, equally calmly, we have to go about creating bonds of community. In these last few years we have talked much of justice. Our chief work of justice, though, involves our relationship to this covenant---our relationship among ourselves. What Are the Causes of Oppression Around Us? Reflecting on that night, on the grotesque forms of the unknown, I came to see that fear wears many guises. If we ponder on the question, What are the real causes of oppression around us?, immediately there come the replies: "British domination," Loyalist selfishness," "Social apathy," "I.R.A. Terrorism," "Unemployment," "Subhuman housing," and so forth. These are the likely response of a great number of people, depending on which side of the barriers they stand. ' ~ I'm beginning to be more convinced that the~ real ~answer is our-selves--- our memories, our inability to forgive, to be Christlike; to know what to do and how to be as a Christian in the face of injusticei oppression. Our reaction to oppression has been very different fr6m that of the'early Christians. We look back on our Irish history as a people--checkered, erratic: like many anation. But as Christians; how have we fac(d~it? (I mean aH who call themselveS Christian.) We have retaliated with violence, crude-ness, injustice, in just as bitter a way. Some of us say: "We have not thrown bombs! We don't believe that vio-lence is the answer." But have our hearts changed from republicanism or loyalism to a truly Christian approach to life? These labels really stand for all those people who wish to maintain their status quo, even at the cost of the lives of thej.r brothers and sisters. The death of hope is a high cost to pay for a moment's security behind artificial barriers. You ~Will Find in People What You Expect to Find . ~ Why is the change so difficult to'accomplish? Why-are we still talking about it, rather than simply living in love? I wonder, have we really listened to what the violence is saying? I think it is only the dreadful symptom of Journey into Ancestral Fetir / what is happening to the heart of our people. I hear it as a'scream for help, the screaming of the voiceless. I see it not as someihing we can meet head-on, but amid a persistent reaching out in understanding love of peo-ple's' real needs. I'm convinced of the necessity to get at the cat]se. If not, we'll become submerged ifi the symptoms which will get wors~ and worse no matter how we cover them up. Such encounters with our ancestral depths make it ciear to me that one of the deep-seated causes is the colonizer/colonized mentalities from which springs the. dividing wall of fear, mistrust, suspicion. The ancestral wounds have not healed. A change of mentality.does not happen overnight. It is the growth of a long searching, a patient understanding and a persevering love. Unless we have the cpurage to risk the leap of faith'towards our brother, whoever he is, (and I'm not talking simply about Loyalist and Republican), we cannot hope to begin this change of mentality. And we all need it. ! need first of all to learn to live with myself. I have to' learn to live with my brothers,~my neighbors. Then I can open out to.the wider ~zommunity! The reasons which move people to suc.h positioris are mainly historical. But to grow as a people, to be Christian, we have to reach out across these historical, cultural, spiritual barriers and create a climate of acceptance and understanding of each other. And it musi. be two-way: I must address tile barriers of fear. mistrust, hatred, pride, prejudice within me--overcome them in myself first, and then move outwards. But how many of us have learned to live with ourselves? How many of us have integrated within ourselves the various strands of our ancestry? If I take even the first tentative steps in this process of integration, of growth, I discover that there are no ready-made answers in the movement outwards again towards my brothers. I can only share what I have dis-covered in my attempt to follow Christ. ! discover that I learn all the time, from the people I move among. Yes, God is still speaking today. We need to let him change us! ; His peace will not be found in mass meetings for peace, but in changed lives. While that is true, it is also true that many of the mass meetings for peace do spring from the changed lives of thousands of people, a change which has been taking place ~quietly over the last few years. It seems a change of climate has been growing--a springtime. However, unless it springs from areal change of heart it will die do~wn and get nowhere. I'd fear to think of peace as simply the absence of violence among us. When we experience a comparative lull, as recently we did, how do we read it? Is the lull a nursing of our wounds, a hardening of attitudes? Or is it a time of healing? We have had many violent episodes in the past which eventually died down. But our hearts didn't change. Unless this change of attitude prompts'us to really seek out our brother, to understand him, as he is and not to try to change him, then it is but a caricature of Christianity--you will find in your brother only what you bring, what you are. 41~4 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 /4 Becoming iMore Fully Human The trouble with most of us is that we haven't fully explored who we are. We transfer to our brother a whole lot of that deep subconscious which we haven't faced in ourselves. What is growth, integration, but a process of becoming more truly the person I am not some dream, or ideal, but truly myself. It is not easy to live with a known self, no matter how many angles, or how many depths of light and darkness that self holds. Within the context of what it means to be Christian, I see this growth as a process of Incarnation. Very often we are so close to all that is happening in this .process that we cannot see clearly at all what is .happening while it is happ6ning. Occa-sionally we have to stand back and look from a different viewpoint. Then whole new worlds of meaning light up our horizon. Through a brief en-counter w, ith the East, I myself had some such ~experience. When our separate worlds met (first, second, third), in my being lifted out of my own life experience of p.overty, need, struggle, into a totally "different" world, I experienced "living through Incarnation," not simply looking to it for meaning. I went carrying the burden of this seemingly impossible situation in our country. Would anything the East could teach thl:ow light on that? The situation of other nations was just as appalling. Where might hope be found? I felt saddened by the many who know only a hopeless resignation, and more saddened by those who channel their despair into reckless violence. The presence of Christ assured me that this was only part of the picture, but I had not had the reference ofmy o~vn experience to work on. I had not seen, touched, tasted, so I did not know--I hung on 'to belief. I felt stifled by the polarization of parts of my home-city into ghetto areas which prevents the natural giving and taking in which reaching oi)t and sharing would promote reconciliation. I felt frustrated by the third force which goads each side against the other rather thanwork for peace; The "ancestral fears" of our environment had eaten into us so deeply that I did not recognize them in myself. Yet, in the midst of this atmosphere of defeat, His hope rose up and beckoned more gtrongly, buoying me up. In our sheer need I saw Him at work in broken lives--healing, restoring. But there were so many ques-tions. So much I needed to'learn. In my being lifted out of my own life-exp+ rience of poverty, need, struggle, into a totally "different" world, I felt I lived through this "God becoming man" again. I was not outside, looking on. I became man--human. If I might look for a key word to describe this experience of Incarnation, it might be sharing. Too many have gone from the West to the East to give--to satisfy a nagging sense that "we must do something." We, though, in approaching our hosts with empty, open hearts, found ourselves en-riched beyond measure: reverence for the other; stillness, waiting. Entering into another's reality means going outside the self. Journey into Ancestral Fear Sharing, Not Distributing If we have not gone outside of self, outside "our" great world, we will remain on the level of doing. We will distribute from our bag of tricks and wonder.why, one day, it runs empty and we haven't that -powerful" feeling any more. No, to share speaks of equality. Sharing never makes others dependent, never prevents growth, never closes the door to a return. What else is sharing, but the life of the Trinity of love? Christ prayed that we may be one as They are one. Life is not life at all unless it is shared. To share the ordinary things of life gives me an idea of what it will be like to share the life of God. Have we learned to live a little like our God of Love? Could I truthfully say: "All I have is yours"? (see Jn 17:10). In my eagerness to live for the good of my own people, I learned that I had been affected by the Western sickness of wanting to give all the time. In being thrown back on my personal poverty and powerlessness, I have learned better how to receive--graciously, lovingly. It has opened up a beautiful new perspective in regard to all those whose lives touch mine, whether that might be family, work, community, friends, strangers. To all people, I have learned from the East the meaning of the simple, demanding statement: "I am for you.", Simple realities we take so much for granted have assumed a deeper significance: the really deprived among us are those without hope, those who have not discovered the immense riches of their true selves, those who hide behind barriers of fear, mistrust, hatred; those of us who dare not celebrate a life we feel too fragile; those ofus who have lost the festivity and joy of living. "What does it matter if you gain the whole world and lose your true self?." (Mk 8:36). In being evangelized by those people considered "poor" in the eyes of the world, I have become more deeply human--just as I have received my reality as a person also from those to whom I have been sent here at home. There Are No "Them" and "Us" As He turned to his people he felt great compassion: he wanted to reach out. His very desire for their good healed them--he truly "lived with" their need. There are no "them" and "us"--it is always "we together." He wants to free each one of us from our fears, doubts, hesitations, inabilities, limitations. He wants to launch us on his mission, before his healing power can effectively flow through us. 1 think ! lost any trace of the "Messiah complex," of "giving Christ to the world" rather than discovering him present inall peoples, during that time in the East. This true sharing leads to a deep communion. The bonds of community grow in the measure that we share who we are with all men. How do I approach those on the other side of the barriers in our own environment? Is it from a position of strength toward weakness? Is it from a position of "having it all" and needing to satisfy a nagging sense that "we must do something"? Or do those of us who genuinely want to reach out to others, 4~16 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 do so from the reality of being grasped by Christ,freed by him, impelled by his love to proclaim that he is alive today--among us? There is something deep within each of us as human beings that makes us want to live in communion with others. I don't want to approach anyone, or want to break through barriers, with the attitude of "them out there," of "isn't it awful?," of "what can we do about it?" I would rather like to receive all with an empty, open heart, in reverence, in stillness--in waiting, if need be. Entering into another's reality means entering into the "why" of the fears, barriers, defenses. Do I live with a sense of equality among all? When we talk of neighborliness, of friendship across the barriers, could I truthfully say to you, "All I have is yours!"? Only then can we return to each other the festivity and joy of living. How One Man Became Free In the slums of Manila, where 80% of the people live below the poverty line, they spoke with us about the climate of fear and oppression around them. There was no hint of hopelessness--though one often met with a feeling of powerlessness. This was brought home to us as one group told us how they had come across the wife and family of a well-known political prisoner. ~ This manhad been in a position equivalent to the opposition. Since the introduction of martial law he had been in prison, and denied the right to ordinary legal proceedings for a trial. A military tribunal hearing was to begin the following day. His wife pleaded with us visitors to. come with her. With some apprehension as to possible consequences, we did, and' were amazed to find the courtroom nearly filled with priests and sisters morally upholding the prisoner~ The hearings of his challenge to the tribunal was an outstanding example of real strength against injustice. A remark he made during the trial has echoed in my mind through all the weeks and months which followed: My cell door, ironically, has been my door to freedom. Having walked through it, I have lost my fears. It became my door to freedom when I finally acknowledged its threats as the promise of liberation and truth . I cannot yield to you my spirit and my conscience. I am yielding to might but not to right . After four years in confinement, 1 have finally realized that man must fear most the prison of his own making--the prison of fear itself. Freedom From Fear I returned with renewed'faith--God, who has begun this great thing, humanity, and Christianity; will see it through. Sharing in his love for all those whose lives touch mine, I dare to believe that he can use even me to bring life to a world without hope. And, when I am united with you., and you., who believe, the kingdom of God has come among us. "There are no experts, only disciples who learn by doing." ~An'd, when we are given the courage to launch out into (he deep, we don't know where Journey into Ancestral Fear that "doing" will end! When Christ raised Lazarus from the dead, he gave him ~over to the people wh6 surrounded them to be unbound. So, as he raises us, he gives us to each other to continue the unbinding--receiving our reality from each other, giving each other our freedom--in dignity, simplic-ity, beauty, hospitality. "Yes, we are a happy, carefree people, but something is happening to our hearts which we do not understand." The worst form of poverty is to be alive without hope. To be without hope is to be without Him---our Savior. But where He is, there is no fear: "Perfect love casts out fear" (1 Jn 18). I came away from the East free of a fear which had paralyzed and prevented all aspects of my life. And so I understood the fear in our environment here at home. The historic wounds are so deep, part of the very fabric of our lives--so deep we might not recognize ourselves without them. As God touches our beings personally, gradually, gently., leading us toward personal wholeness in him, so he touches us as a people. He, as it were, goes back into history and heals the wounds history has left behind. This is the healing we need as a nation. ~ This freedom from fear enables us to proclaim by our lives: "Serenity--knowing we are loved, assured, at peace with him and our-selves; Stability--God is God, let Him be God. He holds all, hand it over to him. Tranquillity---overflowing from an abiding sense of his presence among US. Capability--his power in our lives, his power overflowing to others. This is our service--to be open to all: the fruit of the Spirit of peace among us. We need to speak for God in these our troubled times as reso-lutely as the prophets of old. We need to proclaim joy, hope, peace in the midst of the many disasters round about. Real hope dawns when there is no other possibility than absolute dependence on God---our foot constantly wearing out his doorstep! The Brotherhood of Man is Possible! Already, as I was learning these truths more deeply, thousands of peo-ple were rising up at home and speaking fearlessly for peace, forging stronger ties towards reconciliation. Since then, freedom has been pro-claimed again and again, echo6d by a thousand voices. In the past, gather-ings in war left bitterness, hatred, division festering in age-old wounds. And then enough people said, "We have been governed by fear" to enable gatherings in peace, and joy, forging links of reconciliation. Yes, I learned how to face our fears, turn my back on them, and reso-lutely turn towards all that builds up a climate of reconciliation, strength-ened not by any ability but by my weakness and dependence on His strength. It was worth going to the other end of the world to learn that alone ! 488 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 I have felt great sadness at these gatherings too. How effective they will ultimately be depends on how many present have risen out of their fear, how deeply and how realistically each one becomes peace. Too many are carried along on waves of emotion! Yet the brotherhood of man is possible---even here! The answer to the divisions, exploi/ations, war, hatred, rejection, hunger, fear-in-the-world is our Christ of the Beatitudes, with his call to share. There is only one human family. But if we have never experienced human love, can we offer love, or understand what struggle for another involves, or live a life of communion with God? And how can anyone know love--unless you and I love? In the past I have been constantly strengthened by the beautiful expressions of love and hospitality, of generosity, of sharing that I have known among our people here, daily witnessing to the fact that even in our shattered lives the spirit of love is at work among us. Iam filled with more hope than ever. And I am very, very, grateful at being placed near people in .need--at the heart of my people's search for him; at the point of their desire for him. Life has always been beautiful and full of the surprises of God: that beauty has been increased a thousandfold for me. I feel hope rising in leaps 6f Joy: Expect the impossible! Believe the unbelievable! Proclaim the truth !--For God is with us! Each, returned to his own Galile~i, can proclaim fearlessly that which we have seen, touched, tasted (1 Jn 1:1). He is here. He is with us. Hope makes us live. ForHe is our peace. Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition Mary Catherine Barron, C.S.J. Sister Mary Catherine is a frequent contributor to these pages. Her last article appeared in September, 1978. She resides at 91 Overlook Ave.; Latham, NY 12110. For a long time now, he had haunted me, this acerbic little man-- haunted me and annoyed me. He seemed so utterly sore: ulcerous wounds on the outside, bleeding heart on the inside. Who needed it? Who also needed his words--thunderous, vehement complaints~de-nouncing life, God, man. Quite honestly, who wanted to tangle with all this writhing agony? It might underscore the already too familiar. So determinedly, I put him aside and concentrated on other things: the joy of Joseph, the fidelity of Ruth, the.trusting surrender of Esther. But they occupied my time, not my mind. For behind them all, there he sat, that angry, implacable figuremstinking, screaming, wildly gesticulating. Ulti-mately, against my will and better judgment, he antagonized me to his side--flies and all. To be candid, I hate flies. And odors like disease and manure, And unmitigated complaining. And pseudo-sympathy. It all talks and walks like death. So I didn't really like Job in his utter humanity. It was too graphically prophetic. That was the haunting part. The annoying part is that, in spite of all of it, I stayed. So now there are two of us si~ting in the noonday sun--hot and stubborn and mad. Eventually, someone will have to speak. In the end it was Job who broke the silence and cursed the day of his birth (Jb 3:1). 489 490 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 Just like that--for twenty-six verses--spewing out anger. Why was he born? Why couldn't he die? Words filled with dread of the future, sleepless-ness, lament. Grief has a way of doing that, you know. Utter stone., then the crack across the surface. A few heaves--abruptly a mountain becomes a volcano, lava of words and emotion searing out everywhere. Shock on the faces of onlookers st.ampeding to take cover: "Spare us your painful fire, please. Please.'~ While the volcano rages on. And then., the deathlike stillness ¯ . . followed by meaningless words trying to make meaning. A survivor gasps: "Then Eliphaz of Teman spoke: 'If I were as you are, Job . . .' " If ¯ . . if. Through all the wreckage and debris. "If I were as you." if. The irony of those words: Who can be like Job, when one is sound and whole and safe, free from loss, darkness, despair? Speaking out of loved ones alive and farm lands intact, what can such a one as Eliphaz know of unanswered questions, heartrending supplications? For him, do they even exist? Silence. Then, imperceptibly, a stirring from the ashpit, a flicker of the eyelash. Job speaks: If only my misery could be weighed . What wonder then if my words are wild? The arrows of Shaddai stick fast in me . My spirit absorbs their poison (6: I-4). Ah yes--those poisonous arrows of Shaddai; those intimations of doom from Sheol that stick deep. into the soul; the-certain knowledge- that never again will there be innocence and joy. And always there ~are the bitter questions asked over and over of self: Will I be able to go on? Why go on anyway? Where are my friends? Why can't they understand? Fear and loneliness. The Underworld. Someone creeps near to draw out the stir~g, to touch the cracked skin. It is Bildad. He urges humility: You too, if so pure and honest must now seek God, plead with Shaddai (8:4-5). These are soothing words indeed: "ff you are honest." This is an answer with insight!?'Seek God; plead with Shaddai." How is Job to do this when Shaddai has disappeared? Where is God to be found for Job, the sufferer? A lull ensues. The hot breeze blows. Flies buzz. Then a voice. And Job said: Your own hands shaped me, modeled me: And would you now have second thoughts and destroy me? (10:8). The appeal and bargaining begin. Who hasn't done it? Bargaining with self; Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition / 49"1 bargaining with God. And the panic: how dare oppose the Almighty's will? How dare question Yahweh God Omnipotent? Suppose I am right? Wha.t difference would it make? Suppose I am wrong? What then? Yet, what is there to lose when one has already lost everything? "Yahweh, give a little happiness before death." Is this too much to ask? Appeal and bargain-ingwwho hasn't done it? .Zophar apparently. For he queries pontifically: Can you claim to grasp the mystery of God, To understand the perfection of Shaddai? It is higher than the heavens; what can you do? It is deeper than Sheol; what can you know? (11:7-8) Truth--unadorned and stark. What can you do? Nothing. What can you know? Nothingwabsolutely nothing. That is the darkness, the pain. Help-lessness in the face of the abyss--the human condition. What can you know? What can you do? Nothing--nothing except to confront Yahweh. Despair--the human condition. Then, convoluting tortuously, comes the rush of Job's words, ejaculated with the vehemence of despair, discharged with the agony of futility, resolute like one,maddened: I mean to remonstrate with God; I will do the talking, whatever may befall me. I put my flesh between my teeth, I take my life in my hands. Let him kill me if he will (13:3-15). The pathos of those words, the frenzy! The "last-chance syndrome." Where have we heard it before? From what corner of the universe has'it n0t cried out? V~e havehea'rd it on the lips of the dying; in the hearts of survivors; from the tomb called old age and rejection; out of the spectral ¯ stare of disease and starvation. Who has not, at some point in life, taken one's flesh in one's hands, remonstrated with God? But Eiiphaz cannot understand. Not yet having plumbed the depths of misery, never having drunk suffering's cup to the dregs, he cannot fathom .the pain that would drive a man to contend with God. He only sees the obvious: anger and rebellion. And sohe says: ~'See how passion carries you away!" Passion--that double-edged sword of grief and joy, the ecstasy and bestiality of man, the most cherished and most despised of gifts. Passion. Who has not longed for its transforming unity? Who has not wept over its fragmenting discord? Passion. I watch him--Job~as he masticates Eliphaz's words. He chews them carefully as one chews a fish with bones. He moves his teeth cautiously around them and just as cautiously his t6ngue. But he will not swallow 492 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 them. He holds them in his mouth, in one corner of his cheek, and stares ahead at emptiness. "Swallow them," I plead silently, urgently, "or spit them out. Don't hold them lest they choke you." But there is nothing-- only that awful bulbous cheek and the empty stare. It is mid-afternoon, the height of heat and sun, reason's siesta time. Perspiration drips. Things swim before the eyes: mirages, desert visions, subconscious creatures from the soul. The universe crumples like a folded fan. The breeze pants hot across inert bodies, creating the sense of being played upon, fretted. And then, heartrendingly Job cries out: He has shattered me! He has pierced me! He has breached me! He has borne down on me! Every fibre of my heart is broken! I weep! I cry out! Still he shoots his arrows into me! I am overcome! (16:17) The Litany of Passion, divine passion. Good old platitudinous Eliphaz has finally hit the mark. Unerringly, unknowingly, Job has be'en ravished. In the nakedness of a cloudless day, we have seen him vanquished, embraced. He gasps and swallows. The lump travels to his throat and lodges. Is it possible that loss is no longer what he wails? Could it be that he and Yahweh are suddenly bartering for surrender? Without moving an inch, Job has traversed a terrain. I swallow too. Silence impregnates solitude. No one stirs. The sun moves impercep-tibly. A shade begins. Coolness trickles down my brow. 'I close my eyes and wipe the damp. I feel like sleep. Or death. I feel like dying, if dying is so much a pouring out. I feel like.sleep if sleep is like release. I feel . Mournfully into the dusk, Bildad speaks, musing: Driven from light into darkness man is an exile from the earth (18:18). "Driven from light into darkness." Like the sun's course. Like the ocean's tide. Like the season's change: Like life's pattern! Dawn, noon, night. High, ebb, low. Fertility, fall, winter. Birth, life, death. "Driven from light into darkness." Man. The mood is infectious. Night hedges in. Animal cries echo. And Job takes up the refrain: God, you must know, is my oppressor and his is the net that closes round me. He has covered my way with darkness. My kindred and my friends have all gone away. The hand of God has struck me (19:6-21). Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition / 493 "Driven from light into darkness." And suddenly, like a meteor across the sky, Hope flares briefly: But this 1 know, I, Job, that my Avenger lives, and he, the Last, will take his stand on earth. He will set me close to him, and from my flesh I shall look on God. He whom I shall see will take my part; These eyes will gaze on him and find him not aloof (19~25-27). It is the song of the prisoner, the condemned. It is the avowal of the sick man, dying. It is the prayer of the faithful soul, deserted. "I know that my Avenger lives." His words fall into the air dropping like snow on velvet, glistening and hushed. The moon rises and clouds over; the stars wink and disappear. It is the inky time of night. Absolute aloneness. Total isolation. Simple breath-ing is intrusion. And I think: "Enveloped by the darkness, shall we quietly slip away'?" The eternal temptation of friendship: to quietly slip away. Will he even know we're gone, so absorbed is he in pain? Will he even care, since, in fact, we cannot help? Is there any point to vigils when the heart lies already dead? Truly, how far does fidelity go? How deep does commitment bind? Ironically, Job gives the answer: fidelity is radical. Its presence is an absolute grace; its absence, an absolute sorrow not to be compared. Job has known the calamity of loss, the pain of bereavement, the suffering of illness. Yet, none of these hold the anguish of desertion and infidelity which is the dark night of the soul; the index tingler of Yahweh scraping across the heart; the Ruah, his breath, blowing in the memory, tantalizing, near, but indescribably far away. From this void of absolute emptiness, Job laments in prayer: That heavy hand of his drags groans from me. If only 1 knew how to reach him, or go travel to his dwelling! If I go eastward, he is not there; or westward--still I cannot see him. If I seek him in the north, he is not to be found; invisible still when I turn to the south . For darkness hides me from him and the gloom veils his Presence from me (23:2-17). This is Psalm 139 prayed backwards. Even in desolation, Job is a good Israelite. And how accurately he speaks. When human friends depart, the griefis great, but who can measure the torment which ensues when God withdraws? "Under cover of darkness, Yahweh, have You, too, slipped away?" So I sit and wait and rest. The night leaks out drop by drop. Minutes become ages, then cease. It is the hour of desolation, which is timeless. 4~14 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 Inevitable. "And Job continues his solemn discourse. He says:" Who will bring me back to the months that have gone, and the days when G~d was my guardian; When his lamp shone over my hi~ad~ and his light was my guide in the darkness? I cry out to you and you give me no answer (29:1-4; 30:20). How does one deal with that--the silence of~non-response, the answer of the void? Does one walk away dejectedly or does one catapult into the abyss? There is death either way. And thus, Job carefully considers, examines his days and his nights, probes his heartaches and ecstasies, fingers his hopes and his dreams. Is their memory worth silence or speech, retreat or confrontation? And then with a mighty leap, embodying faith and despairJob issues the challenge, directly, forcibly, to God: Who can get me a hearing from God?~ I have had my say from A to Z; now let Shaddai answer me~ When my Adversary has drafted his writ against me, I shall wear it on my shoulder, and bind it round my head like a royal turban. I will give him an account of every step Of my life, and go as boldly as a prince to.meet him (31:35-40). With this ringing declaration, argumentation ceases; lament is done. "End of the words of Job" (31:40). A tremulous pause. Terror grips. Awe invades. The e]arth turns over and I am sick, my senses reeling. Roaring thunder, thickening night. "My God! My God! We are strangling to death. Our words regurgitate." The desert sand flails. I cover my face; I grovel on the earth; I burrow into the dirt. "And then from the heart of the tempest, Yahweh gave Job his answer" (38:1). In fifty eight questions! And Job replied to Yahweh: My words have been frivolous; what can I reply? 1 had better lay my finger on my lips. (40:3-4) God has a way of doing that--giving questions for answers. He has shown himself divine Socratic: And Yahweh God called to the man: Where are you? (Gn 3:9). Yahweh asked Cain: Where is your brother Abel? (Gn 4:9). YahWeh asked Abraham: Why did Sarah laugh? (Gn 18:13). And the one who wrestled with Jacob said: Why do you ask my Name? (Gn 32:29). And Yahweh answered Moses: Who makes man deaf or dumb, gives him sight or leaves him blind?Is it not I, Yahweh? (Ex 4:12). In fact, all through Salvation History we have been closing our mouths Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition / 495 with our fi .ngers~too late. Job is in good company. I relax and come up for air,. And Job gave answer to Yahweh: I know that you are all powerful: what you conceive, you can perform. I am the man who obscured your designs with my empty-headed words. 1 have been holding forth on matters I cannot understand; on marvels beyond me and my knowledge (42:1-3). Humility. Man before the divine. Nature kneeling to Transcendence. The mystery of God. And Job replied: I retract all I have sa!d; In dust and ashes, I repent (42:!-3). The beauty of humanity. Its capacity for enlargement. Its yearning for completeness. Its ability to change. Because 1 knew you then by hearsay, but now I see you with my own eyes (42:5). Knowledge of the heart. Contemplation and surrender. Incarnation re-versed: man entering into God, Peace. My pulse resumes. My heart begins to beat. I can see that I am stained. I can see that I can see.t A mist of rose gathers in the east. A breeze sighs. Or is it Eliphaz? And Yahweh God said to Eliphaz of Teman: 'I burn with anger against you and your two friends for not speaking truthfully a~out:me as my servant Job has done. So now find seven bullocks and seven rams, and take them back with.you to my servant Job, and offer a holocaust for yourselves, while Job, my servant, offers prayers for you. I will listen to him with favor and excuse your folly in not speaking of me properly as my servant Job has done.' Eliphaz of Teman, Bildad of Shuah and Zophar of Naamath went away to do as Yahweh had ordered, and Yahweh listened to Job with favor (42:7-9). So now there are two of us sitting in the morning's dawn, tired, and joyful, and reborn. Someone will have to speakmbut no one does. There is only the echo of a deeper silencemthe silence of refrain: Where were you when I laid the earth's foundations? Who decided the dimensions of:it; do you know? Have you ever gi~,en orders to the morning? Have you journeyed to the sources of the sea? Which is the way to the home of light? Where does darkness live? Has the rain a father? What womb brings forth the ice? (38; 39) Riddles. Unsolved riddles. Man, and mystery, and wonder. Pain, and suffering, and death. The human condition. Riddles. Unsolved riddles. And 496 / Review for Religious, Volume38, 1979/4 always the eternal unyielding question: "Do you really want {o reverse My judgment and put Me in the wrong to put yourself in the right?" (40:3) I stretch and rise to go. Job never notices. He is wrapt in prayer, I suppose, for Eliphaz, Bildad, and Teman. 1 shake out my robe, flex my toes inside my sandals. I start across the sand. The dusty road coils away and flows into the sky; the air trembles with the weight of birds; the grasses caress the soil. Love and infinity. Providence and care. The human condi-tion. I plod on down the road, humming as I go: Has the rain a father? What womb brings forth the ice? Now Available As A Reprint The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in.Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address" Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I Robert M. Doran, S.J. Father Doran delivered three lectures at Creighton University last year as part of a Spiritual Enric.hment Program. This isthe first one in article form. He resides in the Jesuit Community; Creighton University; 2500 California Street; Omaha, NE 68178. Christian Spiritual Transformation: Self-Transcendence and Self-Appropriation This is the first of three articles on the subject of Jungian psychology and contemporary Christian spirituality. The present article will focus on the latter of these two items, on Christian spiritual transformation as this is understood at the present moment in the life of the Church. By concentrat-ing on two terms frequently employed in the works of Bernard Lonergan, self-transcendence and kelf-appropriation, I hope to provide a context for the next two articles, which will deal more extensively with Jung. This first article will treat, first, Christian spiritual tranformation as self-transcendence; second, Christian spiritual transformation as growth in self-knowledge orself-appropriation; third, the levels of consciousness that can be discovered when one enters on the way of self-appropriat!on; and fourth, the relation of feelings and symbols to these various levels or dimensions of consciousness. This fourth topic locates that element of our interior lives in regard to which Jung's insights become pertinent for our spiritual self-understanding. I have discovered that any such treatment of Jung as the present one eventually brings me into that form of discrimination which, in Ignatian 497 4911 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 spirituality, is called the discernment of spirits. Jung is a religiously contro-versial figure. Not only does my own treatment and evaluation of Jung tend to arouse rather than quell the arguments that surround his person and his work, but, more significantly, my critical response to Jung always ~arries me to the heart of the Christian exigence to differentiate the true call of God from the subtle attractions of the force~ of evil as these two contrary tendencies compete for the allegiance of men and women involved in the renewal of the contemporary Church. Why this is so will hopefully be-come clear in the subsequent articles, especially in the final one. But perhaps I can offer now some indication of the difficulty. First, then, Jung ih a religiously controversial figure. The religious significance of his psychological insights is variously interpreted. John A. Sanford and Morton Kelsey are two well-known authors who have drawn on Jung to promote and understand Christian self-discovery.~ On the other hand, James Hiilman has. maintained that Jung's guidelines to "soul-making" are of a completely different order from the well-known paths to spiritual transformation in Christ and from the insights of the other major religious traditions of the world,z Martin Buber entered into direct conflict with Jung, claiming that the psychology of individuation and Yahwistic faith are diametrically opposedorientations.of the human spirit.3 Jung him-self, as we shall see, gives some indications of his own that the process of individtiation will lead the cognoscentes to the position of being able to dispense with all forms of traditional religious involvement; but he also attempted to offer his psychology as an aid to the pastoral care of souls.4 What 'is one to make of these differences and ambiguities? Obviously, some framework must be found to enable us to enter on the kind of process that Lonergan calls dialectic and foundations: the process, namely, in which we not only assemble and review alternative interpretations, but also evalt~ate and compare them, reduce their affinities and oppositions to their underlyin~ roots,.determine which, if any, of.these roots stand in dialectical ~See, for example,~John A. Sanford, Dreams: God's Forgotten Language (Philadelphia and New York: Lippincott, 1968); Healing and Wholeness (New York: Paulist Press, 1977); Morton Kelsey, Dreams: The Dark Speech of the Spirit, A Christian Interpretation (New York: Doubleday, 1968); Encounter with God: A Theology of Christian Experience (Minneap61is: Bethany, 1972). 2See James Hillman, The Myth of Analysis: Three Essays in Archetypal Psychology (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1972). I quote from p. 21: "The spiritual-director models of guru, rabbi, oflgnatius or Fenelon, of Zen master, are only substitutions on which we lean for want of surety about the true model for psychology." 3See Edward C. Whitmont, "Prefatory Remarks to Jung~s 'Reply to Buber,' " in Spring: An Annual of Archetypal Psychology andJungian Thought (1973), pp. 188-195; and C; G. Jung, "Religion and Psychology: A Reply to Martin Buber," ibid., pp. 196-203. 4Compare C. G. Jung, "'Is Analytical Psychology a Religion?" (notes on a talk given by Jung, in Sprihg, 1972, pp. 144-148) with Jung's "Psychotherapists or the Clergy," in C. G. Jung, Modern Man in Search of a Soul (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1933), pp. 221-244. Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I / 499 opposition to one another in such wise that only a radical transformation of the basic horizon can achieve reconciliation, and, finally, choose that basic horizon and those resultant positions and interpretations which we will make our own.5 Such a framework is what I hope to offer in theopresent article. Secondly,- my own judgments and decisions regarding the potential spiritual fruitfulness of Jung's work are themselves controversial, at least in the sense that they will please neither Jung's detractors nor his enthusias-tic followers. For I will sharply differentiate the process of Christian self-transformation from the way to individuation that .lung maps out for us. But I will also insist with equal force that there is much that we not only can, but indeed must, learn from him in developing both a theology and an ascesis of" spiritual transformation in the context of the contemporary world. Thirdly, the only final arbiter of the kind of discrimination that I find necessary is what we have come to call the'discernment of spirits.lung's theological A.mbiguities, and thealternative interpretations and evaluations that are offered of his work, are symptomatic of an underlying spiritual conflict that can be mediated only in the context of the dialectic ofgrace and of sin, of the Standards of Christ and of Satan. David Burrell has indicated correctly that one cannot fail to meet God if one goes on the inner journey to individuation.6 But one will also meet much.that is not God, and that is even opposed to God. Not only does Jung not help one to discriminate these forces as they operate in one's psyche, but he also contributes to and even encourages the confusion'that can be experienced in such moments that call for discernment, and thus mires one in the conflictual forces that wage an ultimate battle in the depths of one's psyche. Jung's work, if left uncriti-cized, leads one into a psychological cul-de-sac that can assume demonic pi'oportions. Christian Spiritual Transformation As Self-Transcendence ~ ' There are many diverse and quite useful approaches to the understand-ifig'of spiritual transformation. I have chosen to focus on two terms that have been developed by Bernard Lonergan. Lonergan's thought has achieved a great deal of notoriety due principally, it would seem, to its difficulty. I have no intention here of repeating the subtle intricacies of his full argumentation. I will rather present in what I hope are quite under-standable tdrms (he results of that argumentation, and will deal with more 5Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), Chapters Ten and Eleven. 6David Burrell, Exercises in Religious Understanding (South Bend: University of Notre Dame Press, 1974), p. 221. 500 /ReviewforReligious, Volume 38, 1979/4 subtle points only to the extent that they are necessary to clarify my basic position.7 I choose Lonergan's approach to the issue of Christian spiritual trans-formation for several reasons. First, it is the approach with which I am most familiar and the one that 1 personally have found most helpful. Secondly, Lonergan explicitly takes his stand in human interiority. And, when we are talking about either spiritual transformation or Jungian psychology, we are talking about the realm of interior experience, about the data of conscious-ness, about such events as insights, judgments, decisions, and, as we will see, dreams. All of these happenings are items that we experience. But we experience them interiorly. None of us has ever seen an insight or a feeling. But I trust, too, that none of us would claim that he or she had never experienced a feeling or an insight, never judged that some proposition was true or false, never made a decision. Moreover, I hope that we all know the experience of wanting to understand, wanting to be reasonable in our judgments, wanting to be responsible in our decisions. For it is in the realm of that desire, and in being faithful to that desire, that Lonergan locates what it is to be an authentic human person. But our experience of these events and of this desire occurs, not in the realm of outer sense, but in the domain of human interiority. It is in interiority that, through these events of understanding, judging, and deciding, we "process" reality. Sensations come in; language goes out; but between sensations and language there is, as Lonergan has formulated it in some recent lectures, the mysterious "little black box" of our interiority. The workings of that little black box are the domain that we concentrate upon in Christian spiritual theology, in Jungian p§ychoiogy, and in any attempt such as the present one that would relate spirituality to psychology. I should mention, in addition, two other advantages that accrue from employing Lonergan's framework for understanding interiority? First, his stress, as I have already indicated, is on human desire, and desire is the area of our being that is illuminated by the explorations also of the great depth ps~ychologists, including Jung, Secondly, and most importantly, Lonergan emphasizes that spiritual development is not something that oc-curs in some realm that is isolated from the insights that we have into the events of our everyday life, from the judgments that we make as to the truth or falsity of the most mundane propositions, from the anxieties we feel and the decisions that we make regarding our orientation and actions as beings-in- the-world. God's saving purpose is a will to save the world itself, to redeem the time of our lives, as Eliot would put it. It is not a dimension of 7There are, of course, dangers in such a procedure, for the reader can easily take the results of Lonergan's explorations as a series of concepts that could dispense one from the task of insight into oneself. There are no short-cuts to the self-appropriation to which Lonergan invites one. But precisely because there are no short-cuts, I can only ask the reader interested in pursuing the process to go to Lonergan's works themselves. Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: reality that is totally extrinsic from the events of understanding, judging, and deciding, that we experience every day. On the other hand, our relation to God is not to be collapsed into a secularistic denial of the supernatural character of grace. Rather, grace is offered in its supernatural character within the events of our everyday lives. So the perspective offered by Lonergan is neither a fundamentalism or extrinsicism that denies the this-worldly character of our lives, nor a secularism or immanentism that ne-glects the absolutely transcendent origin and finality of the relationship to the divine in which we stand at every moment of our lives. What, then, is Christian spiritual development? Lonergan's treatment of this question is provided at the end of a lengthy analysis of human cognitional and moral development that concludes with the realization that the flowering of human potential, the sustained development of the human person, the solution of such social ills as injustice, alienation, and the dominance of totalitarian aspirations in both~the West and East today, are impossible on the basis of human resources alone. We are confronted with a problem of evil in our development as human persons and in the social organization of human affairs. This problem is rooted in our very constitu-tion as human subjects, in our finitude, in the tension between our always limited possibilities and our aspirations to transcend these limitations. I will not go into the intricacies of Lonergan's analysis of the roots of moral impotence. Suffice it to say that he argues persuasively that we are faced with a problem of evil that we are powerless to resolve. If there is going to be a solution to the problem of evil, it must come in the form of redemption. Either there is a divinely originated solution to the problem of evil, or there is no solution at all. If God exists, if God knows of our plight, and if God is good, then there is a divinely originated solution that is offered to our freedom, one that we can accept or reject, and that, if we accept it, will involve us in a whole new area of growth and transformation, an area which we would not even know in any explicit way if God had not come to meet us. This distinct area of development is related to our cognitional and moral development. It is not the product of our knowing and our choosing. It is not something that we vainly imagine, or that we produce by wishful thinking. Rather, it is offered to our knowledge and our freedom as agift. And, if we accept it, it transvalues our values, and provides a new context for Our knowing~ a new atmosphere or environment that enables us to be truly intelligent in our questioning and genuinely reasonable in our judg-ments. This new context is faith, which Lonergan defines as "the eye of love," the eye of the love that is ours, that is the atmosphere in which we live, when we know ourselves as unconditionally loved by, and rooted in, the love that is God's alone.8 8See Lonergan, Insight: A Study of Human Understanding (paperback edition, New York: Harper and Row, 1978), Chapters Eighteen and Twenty; Method in Theology, Chapter Four. 51~2 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 The divine solution to the problem of evil, then, is God's gift of his love that is poured forth into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.~ Our desire for this love is a natural desire: with Thomas Aquinas, Lonergan insists that we have a natural desire for the vision and love of God.t0 He insists, too, that our subjectivity is mutilated or abolished, unless we are stretching forth towards God: There lies within [our] horizon a region for the divine, a shrine for ultimate holiness. It cannot be ignored. The atheist may pronounce it empty. The agnostic may urge that he finds his investigation has been inconclusive. The contemporary humanist will refuse to allow the question [of God] to arise. But their negations presuppose the spark in our clod, our native orientation to the divine." , Being in love with God, then, is for Lonergan the basic fulfilment of the deepest human desire, that desire that he calls "conscious intentionality." That fulfillment brings a deep-set joy that can remain despite humiliation, failure, privation, pain, betrayal, desertion. That fulfillment brings a radical peace, the peace that the world cannot give. That fulfillment bears fruit in a love of one's neighbor that strives mightily to bring about the kingdom of God on this earth. On the other hand, the absence of that fulfillment opens the way to the trivialization of human life in the pur.suit of fun. to the harshness of human life arising from the ruthless exercise of o, power, to despair about human welfare spnnging from the conviction that the universe is absurd.~ God's love is offered to all men and women at every time and place. This universality of God's self-communication (a notion that he has in common with Karl Rahner) Lonergan speaks of in terms of God's inner word, the word that God speaks in the solitude of our hearts, drawing us to himself. But this love is also embodied, incarnate, revealed for all to see, in the outer word of the life, preaching, death, and resurrection of Jesus.~.'~ "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, shall draw all men to myself.''~4 The disciples of Jesus through the centuries constitute that community whose task it will.~ be until the end of time to give explicit witness in external words and deeds to the offer of divine love as the only resolution oLthe otherwise hopeless human dilemma of personal incapacity to grow, of social injustice and alienation. As another superb contemporary thinker. Eric Voegelin, has labored for thirty years to argue, no social order that is not permeated with the love of the unseen measure that Christians call God can be just or humanly fulfilling.~5 In language current among those who have followed 9Rm 5:5. ~°See Lonergan. "The Natural Desire to See God." in Collection: Papers by Bernard Loner-gan (New York: Herder and Herder. 1967), pp. 84-95. t~Lonergan. Method in Theology, p. 103. ~21bid. p. 105. talbid., pp. 112-115. t4jn 12:32. ~sSee Eric Voegelin, Order and History, four volumes to date (Louisiana State University Press, 1956-1974). Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: l / 503 recent deliberations Within the Church, faith and justice are inextricably linked in the mission of the disciples of Jesus in the world.16 Christian spiritual transformation, in this context, is thus a matter, first~ of a process of conversion that involves a growing intimacy with the source and fountain of redemptive love, an intimacy that takes the form of being evermore patterned after the example of Christ; and, second, of a growing commitment and ability to participate in the mission of Christ, which is also the mission of that community.whose task it is tb render explicit to the whole world the fact that,.in Jesus the Christ, God has definitively revealed the saving action that he is always working in the world. To be in love with God is also to be sent by God. To grow in the love of God is also to grow in participation in the mission--the saving and revealing mission---of Jesus. Christian spiritual growth thus involves a number of elements: a) One comes to a developing familiarity with God, so that one is able ever more readily and ever more easily to find him and to participate with him in his redemptive work after the pattern of Christ, the suffering servant of God. b) One grows in the ability to discern precisely what it is that God wants of oneself and of one's community, and in the willingness to do what it is that God asks, confident that what one is doing is not one's own work but God's. c) Summing up all of what this development involves, one grows~in self-transcendence. This is the first key term that I take from Lonergan. One grows in self-transcendence, until, in the saint, there is reached a point of the union of one's own understanding, reason, and desire with the knowl-edge and love of God, a union that can only be broadened and heightened, deepened and enriched, but not gone beyond; and a point of self-abnegation and humility that rejoices in sharing the lot of the poor, despised, and humiliated Son of God himself, in his mission of establishing the kingdom of God on earth. Christian spiritual transformation is a matter of continual conversion to self-transcendence, within the community of the disciples of the Lord that is the Church, until there is reached the point where one's understanding, one's judgments of fact and of value, one's desires, and one's choices, while not ceasing to be one's own, are a participation in the understanding, the judgments, the desires, the choices of God himself, working in and through oneself and one's community, to continue and to spread the redemption of the world that only God can effect. If, then, we are talking about Christian spiritual development as a trans-formation of our insights, our judgments, our desires, and our choices, we ~6See the document of the 1971 Synod of Bishops, Justice in the World. See also the Docu~- merits of the 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus, and especially Decree 4, "Our Mission Today." 504 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 /4 are speaking of it as fundamentally a transformation of our interiority, of our basic horizon. The difference that God's solution to the problem of evil makes in the social world, in the world of economics and politics, in the world of institutions and organizations, is a function of the difference it makes in persons, in the unity of personal consciousness, in people's vision and choices. Christian spiritual development, considered most radically; is a transformation of one's understanding and of ~)ne's willingness, so that these two are brought into harmony and cooperation with God's redemp-tive purpose in Christ Jesus and through the community of his disciples. The transformation, once again, is in the direction of self-transcendence, so that, by accepting God'.s offer of both salvation and vocation, one becomes ever more God-centered and Christ-centered in one's apprehensions of value and in one's decisions, in one's pursuit of meaning and truth, and in one's affective engagement with other persons in the dramatic situations that constitute the stuff, the setting, the stage, of one's own personal story and of history itself. Christian Spiritual Transformation as Self-Appropriation Now, besides serf-transcendence, there is another term that Lonergan uses when he speaks of development. That term is self-appropriation. Self-appropriation is a matter of self-knowledge, of self-discovery, of self-understanding. One can bE quite self-transcendent, quite loving and generous, quite genuine in one's relations with others, quite sincere about wanting to understand things correctly, without being very adept at intri-cate and precise self-knowledge.~ One can be, in Lonergan's terms, quite religiously and morally converted without being intellectually converted. 18 Intellectual conversion is a matter of knowing precisely what one is doing when one is pursuing understanding, reaching for truth, trying to decide in responsible fashion. Many people genuinely try to understand, and succeed in doing so, without being able to say precisely what they are doing when they understand, .how their insights are related to their sensations, their questions, their beliefs, their .images, their concepts, their feelings. One can also be quite religiously and morally converted without being what I have called "psychically converted.''~ Psychic conversion is a matter of know-ing what one is feeling, of being able to tell one's story, and to tell it as it is. One,can have a quite genuine and even beautiful life of feeling without being able to tell what he or she is feeling, how this feeling is related .to that, how both feelings are related to the objects they intend, how one's feelings 17See Lonergan, Insight, p. 475. 18On intellectual conversion as self-appropriation, see Lonergan, Method in Theo!ogy, pp. 238-240. ~gSee Robert Doran, Subject and Psyche: Ricoeur, Jung, and the Search for Foundations (Washington, D. C.: University Press of Ainerica. 1977), especially pp. 240-246~ Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I / 51)5 are related to one's images and symbols, to one's questions and insights, to one's beliefs and ideas. In other words, one can have a quite profound and genuinely self-transcendent interiority without being able to articulate one's inner life with any notable clarity and precision. We all know wonderful and holy people who are quite unsophisticated when it comes to self-knowl-edge, or who will put their self-knowledge in very common sense terms-- people who make at times heroic decisions, but who, when asked why they made this or that decision, or what went on in their minds and hearts which led them so to decide, can answer only, "I don't know; it just seemed to be the right thing to do." Such genuine self-transcendence without self-appropriation is by no means to be disparaged. It is the condition of most good and holy men and women down through the ages, the source of most that is good in human history. But there are factors at work, especially in our age, that seem to indicate that self-appropriatiot~, in addition to self-transcendence, is becom-ing ever more necessary if one wishes to choose responsibly, to judge reasonably, to inquire intelligently, or just if one wishes to know what God wants and does not want. Perhaps there was a time when common sense wisdom and homespun practicality were enough for most people. Perhaps, too, there was a time when the only addition to common sense that some people needed was a good dose of theoretical understanding that was basically in harmony with the Gospel. But there are a number of indications that would seem to argue persuasively that we are now living in a world where self-transcendence, backed up by a common sense framework, or even by a cogent and brilliant theory, is simpl~, not enough; where religious and moral conversion must be complemented by intellectual and psychic conversion; where self-transcendence must be aided and helped, complemented and augmented, by self-appropriation, by precise and even technical self-knowledge, by an ability to articulate just what is going on in one's "little black box." If this be the case, then spiritual transformation today is a matter not only of growing self-transcendence, but also of ever more precise and technical self-knowledge. What are some of the indications that would back up this conviction that I share with Lonergan? Let me talk first about the insufficiency of common sense, and then about the ambiguity of theory. And let me do so within the context of the Church's recent pronounced recognition that the promotion of justice is a constitutive element in the preaching of the Gospel. The paper that issued from the 1971 Synod of Bishops, "Justice in the World," and the statement of Pope Paul VI, Octagesima Adveniens, mark the beginnings, I believe, of a substantial leap forward in the Church's social, political, and economic insight and praxis. One of the few public statements that Pope John Paul I had a chance to make was to the effect that we need a new and worldwide economic order. The achievement of that 506 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 order, I believe, is going to demand that we take our stand, and that we enable others to take their stand, not on practical common sense, and not on theory, but on the self-appropriation of our interiority and especially of our orientation to value. Why do I say this? Well, let us treat common sense first, however briefly. One of the cha~'acteristics of practica.I common se.nse is that it not only is incapable of.treating complex, long-range, and ultimate issues and results, but also that it resentfully brushes aside and ignores any attempts to raise questions that are concerned with such issues. It has the world's work to do. and it cannot be bothered by questions that would take time away from doing that work.z° The person exclusively operating from prac-tical common sense is concerned only with "getting the job don~i." Every-thing else mo.tivation, rationale, social organization, interpersonal communication--is oriented to that end. The question of whether the jo.b is worth doing at all. or whether the most expedient way of. doing it is also the most authentic way, is,a bother, yes, but more than that: it is a threat, a subversive question t, hat could overturn the ~ntire project. Rejection pre-cisely of such kinds of questions is what is responsible for the fact that our objective world-situation today can be characterized in terms of opposed totalitarianisms: the totalitarianism of the multinational corporation, pred-icated on the assumption of the need of automatic progress and expansion; and the totalitarianism of the communist state, rooted in the assumption that class conflict can bring the social o, rder into harmony with what is right.2~ Both myths neglect the fact that there are religious, personal, and cultural values that must be pursued in an integral fashion if there is to be a just social order that really provides for the basic needs of all the mem-bers of a society. In both systems, however much theory may. be involved in their establishment, we see operative the bias of practical common sense against the kinds of questions that must be asked if the job is to be done, not only expediently, but also humanely, genuinely, authetically. The ques-tion of integrity is. not just overlooked, but actively repudiated and re-pressed. _ Nor is theory sufficient to reestablish the significance of that question. For there are theories that support the question, but there are other theories that discredit it. The theories of B. F. Skinner or of orthdox Freudian psychoanalysis are just as coherent, just as thorough, just as all-encom-passing, and, for many,just as convincing, as are the theories of a Christian philosophy and theology. The Church's reliance on theory as the ground of praxis arose in the Middle Ages, more specifically with scholastic philosophy. One of the interesting things about that period, though, is that there were not many ~°See Lonergan, Insight, pp. 225-242. ~lbid. Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: theories from.which to choose, and there was not all that much to be learned in order to piece together a convincing theory. Even the disputes in the world of.theory did not touch, as they do today, on the really basic issues, such as the existence of God, the fact of revelation, the ethical end of the human person, the value of a virtuous life, and so on. Right down into the Renaissance, there was so little to be learned that it was possible for one person to be at once an artist, a natural scientist, and a man of practical affairs and we have Leonardo da Vinci to prove it. The need for specialization to master one tiny dimension of reality is a distinctly modern phenomenon. And while one is spending most of one's time specializing in one's own area, one's contemporaries are adding theory upon theory in their specialized domains. And these theories sometimes contradict one another on the most fundamental issues, on issues that every developing adult must confront. But how is one to take a stand, if one has to devote all of one's energies to his specialization? There are issues on which we must judge and on which we must decide if we are to live a human life. Yet there is simply too much to be learned before we can judge and decide.22 Unless we find a ground beyond theory--for it will not do just to fall back on common sense--our situation becomes one of hopeless relativism. It is my contention that this ground-beyond-theorydies in the self-appropriation of human interiority. This point about the need for,a quite technical self-appropriation can be developed at great length; we do not have space to do that here. The point I wish to make in the present context ,is that only through such self-appropriation can one discover the precise relation that obtains between re,!igio~us, personal, and cultural values on the one hand, and the social value of a just economic and political order on the other hand. And one needs to discover these relations, not simply in the abstract, as through some theory of value ,"but in the concrete order in which one is called upon to judge, to decide, and to act. And so I return to my general statement: Christian spiritual transformation is a matter of self-transcendence that, at a certain point, calls fo'r a movement to self-appropriation. Christian spiritual development is a matter of ongoing cbnversion, and ongoing con-version means today not only religious and moral, but also intellectual and p~sychic conversion. The Levels of Consciousness There are five levels of operations that one discovers when one enters upon the project of the self-appropriation of interiority.2"~ Inner and outer sensations, memories, andimages constitute the level of empirical presen- 22Lonergan, "Dimensions of Meaning," in Collection, pp. 252-267. 23On the levels of consciousness, see Lonergan, Method in Theology, Chapters One and Four. Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 tations. These empirical presentations are organized by understanding, which is a second level of consciousness. For example, if you are reading without any understanding of what I am saying, you are operating at the first, empirical level of operations. If you are reading and understanding what I am saying, your understanding is organizing the empirical presenta-tions into some kind of intelligible whole. You are processing what you hear by the operations that go on in your "little black box." You are operating not only at the first, but also at the second level of o~perations. If, moreover, you not only understand what I am saying but are also trying to judge whether it is correct or not, you have added a third level of operations, where we either assent to, or disagree with, something we have understood. These three levels of operations are what make us to be human knowers. Lonergan calls these levels experience, understanding, and judgment. But we are not just'knowers. There are times in our lives when, after we have made a judgment, "This is t~rue," a further question arises, "What am I going to do about it?" Then we have to decide. And decision constitutes a fourth level of operations. Finally, there is another whole dimension of interior reality that is not dealt with by speaking of the empirical, intelligent, rational, and decisional levels of consciousness. There is a fifth level of consciousness that is a matter of being addressed by and in relation to God. There is the experience of mystery. There is the reality of falling in love with God. There is prayer, worship, mystical experience, the dark night of the soul, the living flame of love, the search for and discovery of the holy, the gift of the divinely originated solution to the problem of evil. Religious self-appropriation, obviously, is a matter of articulating what is going on at that fifth level of consciousness. The means of discovering oneself in one's relation to God are many: there are spiritual direction, retreats, various methods of keeping a journal, and so on. But what is important for us also to appr6priate is the manner in which experience at that fifth level of consciousness has an effect on other levels. The influence of God's grace moves downward in our consciousness. It changes our values (fourth level), so that it provides us with entirely new orientations for our decisions, and enables them to be more self-transcendent. It changes our view of the world, our vision, the way we understand and judge things (second and third levels), and provides us with a determination to under-stand thoroughly and to judge reasonably; and it brings about a harmony and peace at the level of inner sensation, a peace that "the world cannot give," so that our inner being and our bodies rest securely in the love of God. Symbols, Feelings, and Drama Such is the pattern of interiority that is discovered when one enters upon the way of self-appropriation: five levels of consciousness, each related to Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I / 509 the other, whether we move from~below upwards, or from above down-wards. And now, finally, we are able to locate with precision the region where Jung's discoveries become significant for spiritual development, especially for self-appropriation. For all of the operations that we are talking about--sensing, imaging, remembering (first level), inquiring, understand-ing, putting our understanding into words (second level), reflecting, weigh-ing the evidence, judging (third level), deliberating, deciding, acting (fourth level), praying, worshiping (fifthlevel)--all of these operations are per-meated by feelings. We have feelings about the objects of all of these operations. The operations themselves are always dramatic. When you try to understand, it is because you are confused. When you succeed in un-derstanding, the confusion ceases and you experience satisfaction, maybe even excitement. When you want to know whether you understand cor-rectly, it is because you are not satisfied with just a set of bright ideas; you want to get things right and not just go about spouting opinions. When you have to make a decision, the drama of the situation stands out clearly. Some decisions can be agonizing. All decisions have a great deal of affectivity accompanying them, for we are dealing in decisions with questions of value. And value is something we feel before ever we judge about it or act on it.z4 Finally, fifth-level religious experience has those peculiar sets of feelings that we call "consolations" and "desolations." In sum, we are not just structured conscious operators. We are~also the subjects of a drama, pre-cisely in and through these operations. There is a story to our operating, because there are feelings that permeate all of those operations. Let us focus a bit more on this drama, because it is more complicated than I have so far indicated. In addition to the desire to understand, there is also aflight from understanding (second level). I can flee insight just as passionately as I can pursue it. Moreover, I can resist the truth just as strongly as I can intend it (third level). I can try to escape responsible decision and live a life of ease or of drifting or of hiding my talents, just as persistently as I can conscientiously examine every situation to find the best course of action (fourth level). I can flee contact with God just as passion-ately as I can seek to find him and do his will (fifth level). ~ There are feelings that permeate not only genuine performance at each of the five levels, but also inauthentic actions at each step of the way. The ultimate drama of my life, in fact, is this drama of authenticity and inau-thenticity. The authentic person is the person who pursues understanding, who seeks truth, who responds to what is. really worthwhile, and who searches for God and his will. The inauthentic person is the person who flees understanding, who runs fi:om the truth, who resists further questions 241bid., pp. 31-33. 510 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 /4 about his or her decisions, and who tries to escape God. And those feelings never go away. They are present in the entire drama. They are precisely what make it so dramatic. What. then. are feelings? Feelings are energy-become-conscious. Feel-ings are a~matter of psychic energy. Feelings are the basic sensitive compo-nent of every human operation. Feelings make of spirituality a story. To know one's feeling is to begin to tell one's own story. Feelings are the drive and momentum of the life of the human spirit. Feelings join the spirit to the body in a conscious unity. There is one further aspect to this matter. Feelings always enter con-sciousness through being connected with some representation. Now, the, most basic form of representation lies in symbols. A symbol, Lonergan says, is an image of a real or imaginary object that evokes a feeling or is evoked by a feelingZS; what this means is that there is never a feeling without a symbolic meaning; never a symbol without a feeling. To name one's feelings is to discover the dynamic images, the symbols, that are associated with them. To have insight into one's feelings is to understand the symbolic association. To tell one's story is tomarrate the course of one's elemental symbolizing. And where does one's elemental symbolizing occur in its purest form, untainted by the biases that. in waking life, can lead us to distort our story? The place of elemental symbolizing is in our dreams. It is in the dream that we first are conscious, and it is in the dream that we find a "story" going forward that we cannot distort without being aware that we are doing so.z6 If we want to know our -story" the story of insight, the story of judgment, the story of decision, and the story of prayer--we can find it in our dreams. There is a psychic conversion that puts us into contact with that story. It affects us deeply once it has occurred. For it enables us to judge ourselves in our waking life as authentic or inauthentic in our pursuit of understanding, in our.seeking of truth, in our decisions, and in our search for God. In the next article I will situate Jung's psychology of individuation within this context of the discussion of self-transcendence, and, especially, of self-appropriation. In the third article, though, I will use this same frame-work to criticize .lung's psychology. For Jung did not have an accurate understanding of the structure of our operations as human subjects~ur understanding, our judgments, our decisions, and our search for God. His basic philosophical and theological standpoint did not take its stand on a notion of authenticity as self-transcendence. And this basic flaw renders his contributions to Christian spiritual .development very ambiguous until these contributions are transposed into some such context as I have tried to indicate in the present article. 251bid., p. 64. 26See Doran, "Dramatic Artistry in the Third Stage of Meaning," forthcoming in Lonergan Workshop 11, edited by Frederick Lawrence (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1979). "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond"-- Reflections on Death and Resurrection John Renard, S.J. Father Renard is on the faculty of St. Louis,University. A previous article of Father Renard was entitled "Islamic Spirituality" which appeared in the November, 1978 issue. With:the bitter:sweet clarity that came to him in his illness, ~ohn Donne wrote, "Therefore that He may raise, the Lord throws down.''~ The poet expresse_s a wisidom most of us would rather flee than surrender to; bui our flight from mortality is not always and necessarily a flight toward immortal-ity. Ernest Becket explains the dynamic of the "Jonah Syndrome" by saying that the fear of life often menaces human beings as relentlessly as the fear of death. The "Jonah Syndrome" involves escape from both the apex and the nadir of human potential. It issues in a frantic sear.ch for control of one's destiny to the smallest detail; it deems abstinence from the heights of ecstasy a fair price to pay 'for a shorter fall; it shuns the awesome lest it happen upon the terrible,z Both extremes of the fear ~eem to be rooted in a dread of extinction, whether as annihilation wrought by weakness confronting the ultimate ~This and all other selections of poetry quoted in this paper may be found in the.Norton Anthology of Poetry ('Revised, New York, 1975). "Hymn to God My God, in My Sickness," p. 251. 2Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death (New York, 1973). Term coined by Abraham Maslow; pp. 48 ft. 511 512 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 power, or as humiliation wrought by shame in the face of the ultimate glory. I would like to explore both of these aspects of the "Jonah Syndrome." First we will look at the extreme that presents itself more immediately, and which is a more readily recognizable feature of human experience. In that context we will talk of two preeminent characteristics of the experience of Weakness, Shame, and Mortality. Then we will turn to the experience of power, glory, and immortality. In both instances our guideg will be the struggle of great poets to comprehend, the insight of Paul into the incompre-hensible, and the example of Jesus' surrender to the "impossibility" of a life lived across the full spectrum, from being to nothingness and back. Weakness, Shame, and Mortality At the beginning of his chapter on "The Terror of Death," Ernest Becket quotes Sigmund Freud: Is it not for us to confess that in our civilized attitude towards death we are once more living psychologically beyond your means, and must reform and give truth its due? Would it not be better to give death the place in actuality and in our thoughts which properly belongs to it, and to yield a little more prominence to that unconscious attitude towards death which we have hitherto so carefully suppressed? This hardly seems indeed a greater achievement, but rather a backward step., but it has the merit of taking somewhat more into accou.nt the true state of affairs,a Two factors seem most to contribute to a sense of impotence and of the inability to achieve quite enough in one lifespan--and hence to the half-wish for immortality. They are, first, the feeling of time's inexorability, and, second, the conviction that to make a lasting name for myself I must make it for me alone, me the autonomous, me the independent. These twin cliffs of mortality both spell weakness and shame, for the sheer faces of time and of di~sire for self-fulfilment cannot b~ scaled head-on. Nevertheless, the summit is not entirely unattainable. It merely requires the acceptance of "time" and the rejection of encapsulation in oneself. John Donne writes in his "S.atire on Religion:" He's not of none, nor worst, that seeks the best, To 'adore, or scorn an image, or protest, May be all bad; doubt wisely; in strange way To stand inquiring right, is not to stray; To sleep, or run wrong, is. On a huge hill, Craggrd and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, about must, and about must go, Ahd what th' hill's suddenness resists win so; Yet strive so, that before age, death's twilight, thy soul rest, for none can work in that night. Hard deeds, the body's pains; hard knowledge, too "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond" / 513 The mind's endeavors reach, and mysteries Are like the sun, dazzling, yet plain to all eyes.4 The poet does not advocate pretending the mountain does not exist, nor does he counsel over-confidence as to its vincibility. He does suggest that the most important of attainments are precisely not those which can be attained, but rather those which are allowed to be apparent. It is a question of not denying the obvious, but' also of not taking the obvious for granted. Donne suggests further that mysteries are the very stuff of this life: one had best confront them now, for they set at death's twilight. Time itself is not the poet's nemesis here; the prospect of an untimely death is. As we shall see in the second section of this paper, John Donne found a solution to the problem of time's "unperturbed pace," in his hope of resurrection. As other poets attest, however, not everyone escapes the conviction that time is a vacuum. ,' The Emptiness of Time Many a great poet has written of the vain struggle to deny the marauding burglar of time access to his house. Scarcely a Shakespearean sonne~ but talks of Time's "fell hand," and his "bending sickle's compass," and of the "best jewel from Time's chest., hid." Time is "sluttish,'~ "wasted," "balmy.''5 The young John Milton reflected, "How soon. hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!" Time was for him, along with the will of heaven, his guide toward his mortal end.6 John Keats, also twenty-three, wrote in a similar vein of his fears that he might "cease to be before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain." His fearful reflections led him to stand alone on the shore of the wide world till Love and Fame sank to nothingness in the face of Time's inevitability.~ At twenty-seven, W. B. Yeats wrote "The Lamentation of the Old Pen-sioner." The aged and discarded man sits sheltered from the rain under a tree and reminisces about how he had once held the center ~f attention in fireside chats "Of love or politics, ere time transfigured me." Though young men once more prepare for combat, the pensioner's "contemplations are of Time thht has transfigured me." Though no woman now turns to look upon him, 'he summons up remembrances of loves past and concludes, "I spit in the face of Time that has transfigured me.''s In his magnificent "Fern Hill," the thirty-two year old Dylan Thomas wrote of his heedless youth when: Nothing i cared, in the lamb-wfiite days, that time would take me Up to the swallow throng.ed loft by the shadow of my hand, 'tNAP p. 246. 5Sonnets 64, 116, 65, 55, 106, 107, NAP pp. 212 ft. SNAP p. 323 rNAP p. 700 SNAP p. 918 514 / Review for Religious, Volume38, 1979 / 4 In the moon that is always rising, Nor that riding to sleep I should hear him (Time) fly with the high fie!ds And Wake to the farm forever fled from the childless 'land~ Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though 1 sang in my chains like the sea) ,~ Thomas compressed an entire lifetime into the image of a day, born with the birth of the sun and dying forever under an ever-rising moon. Time was his master: the poet both knew it too,well and, denied it. He was green, but dying; fettered, but singing as though free as the sea. ~ The Fullness of Time Jesus, too/was keenly aware_through his life of the. imminence of an auspicious, even ominous, hour. John's Gospel portrays Jesus early in his public ministry as conscious that hishour would come soon, but had not yet (Jn 7:6 and 30). His later recognition that "the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified" occurs at.the theological, literary, and even geo-graphical center of John's Gospel (Jn 12:23). It is preceded immediately by. the raising of Lazarus and Mary's anointing of Jesus for burial, .and it is followed immediately by the analogy of the grain of wheat that ~must die. in order to give life. In the Synoptics, too, this crucial hour's striking marks the turning point in Jesus~ life, the fullness of his time. In the Synoptics, however, the theological, literary, and geographical pivot is signalled by Peter',s confession.of Jesus as the Christ and Jesus' decisive reorientation for the journey to Jerusalem (Mr 16:13if; Mk 8:27ff;, Lk 9:18ff). Mark, Matthew, and Luke indicate that it is Peter who is troubled, most of all, by Jesus' prediction of his death, and who tries to dissuade Jesus from his intended course. John, on the other hand, more insistent than the SynOptics on Jesus' awareness of his "tim~ and hour," emphasizes Jesus' own anguish that his time has now come: "Now is-my soul troubled. And what shall Isay? 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, for this purpose I have come.to this hour's' (Jn .12:27). It is an hour of glor.y, but not for Jesus "personally." It is the hour in which his Father's name will be glorifie~l again (Jn 12:28), At this juncture we turn to the second factor that .makes human mortality seem so impotent and dishon6rable--the forever frus-trated yet die-hard desire to make a name for oneself alone. Making a Name: The Delusion of Self-Proclaimed Glory Several years ago a cartoon in a national magazine depicted a handsome young couple in togas seated in an idyllic lakeside glen. The young man gazes into the mirror-smooth lake, and the lady asks, "Is there., someone else, Narcissus? . Everyone," notes Ernest Becket, "enjoys a working aNAP pp. 1166-7 "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond" / 515 amount of basic narcissism,"~° which amounts to a drive for self-protection and self-creation. The more that drive becomes the central life project, however, the moreoenslaving and suicidal it becomes. Chapter two of the Letter to the Philippians is the New Testament's most remarkable.state-ment of Jesus' surrender of his own name for the glorification of his Father's name.~::'He did not count equality with God a'thing to be grasped., but emptied~ ~himself, taking the form of a slave being born in human likeness. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, death on a cross': (Ph 2:6-8). By "becoming sin who kflew no sin" (2 Co 5:21), Jesus engaged in the ultimate ec-stasy. He rejected the Godly power which alone is immune to the need for striving, in favor of human weakness with its constant struggle for freedom. He rejected the Godly glory which alone is~truly autonomous and peerless, in favor of the shame of common slavery. Power and glory in God are Godly; in human~beings they are merely the produc't of self-aggrandizing,, narcissistic wishfulness. Power and glory in God are His awesomeness and attractiveness; in human beings~they are a pathetic grasp-ing after invulnerability and control, needlessness and Unrelatedness, free-dom from risk.~ That, in the. words of Shakespeare, amounts to "Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame. . lust in action. In his choice of slavery and emptiness Jesus had even to divest himself of the faintest hope that it would all' have world-redeeming consequences. He had to abandon himself unreservedly to the powerlessness and anonym-ity of the human condition. The colossal irony of his surrender is that, because Jesus forsook his, own name and status, "God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that atthe name of Jesus,every knee should bend., and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (Ph 2:9-11). A classic of Chinese tradition called the Tao te Ching spe.aks simply and insightfully of the nature of this paradox: Reality is all-embracing. To be all-embracing is to be self-less. To be self-less is to be all-pervading. To be all-pervading is to be transcendent.~3 Paul elucidates further~ the'implications ~of Christ's self-lessness ~or us. Thb',~ib~e~'ness of self-~areservation must "yield to the folly' of the Cross, "For~tlie. fo61ishness~ of God is wiser than humankind, and the Weakness of l°op. cit., p. 22 ~For further excellent discussion of power and autonomy, see John Dunne's The Way'of All the Earth (New York, 1972), pp. 4-26. ~aSonnet 129, NAP 216 ~aChang Chung-yuan, Tao: A New Way of Thinking (New York, 1975), p. 42. 51!5 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 God is stronger than humankind." Self-proclaimed power and glory must yield to a confession of "shame and confession," as in the meditations on sin in St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises, for "God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are" (1 Co .1 and 2, quoting 1:25, 27). Jesus' own acquiescence in the arrival of his "hour" and his preference for namelessness led him to the folly of the Cross, that our "faith might rest not in human wisdom, but in the power of God" (1 Co 2:5). And all the heavenly host shouted: "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and giory.~. And the four living creatures said, 'Amen'" (Rv 5:12, 14). Power, Glory and Immortality If reflection on the ravages of time and change is a common theme in the great poets, musing on what may lie beyond death are no less prominent. "Death once dead," says the Bard, there's no more dying then.''14 Shake-spearc's is a rather cold resignation in that poem. A more hopeful note is heard in Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality": 0 Joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive.15 Another facet of "nature's memory" is the subject of "The Root Cellar'" by the twentieth-century poet Theodore Roethke. Observing nature's stubborn refusal to become extinct, he tells of how in a lowly earthen dungeon all things strain after survival. In that cellar "Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath."16 In "The Far Field," Roethke writes of how "All finite things reveal infinitude." I am renewed by death, thought of my death, The dry scent of a.dying garden in September, The wind fanning the ash of a low fire. What I love is near at hand, Always, in earth and air.1~ The same W. B. Yeats who had written about the Pensioner who spat in the face of Time, later wrote a play called The Resurrection. The p~lay climaxes with a song about the demise of the ancient rites at~the appearance of the Risen Christ who now stands on the stage. The song is a different kind of reflection on how the passing of time exhausts human power and glory to make way for Christ's power and glory: t4Sonnet 146, NAP :p. 217 ~SNAP p. 603 ~6NAP p. 1131 ~TNAP p. 1138-9 "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond" / 517 Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day.: Love's pleasure drives his love away. The painter's brush consumes his dreams; The herald's cry, the soldier's tread Exhaust his glory and his might: Whatever flames upon the night Man's own resinous heart has fed.Is Few poets have prayed in our tongue more fervently than John Donne. In the"Holy Sonnets" Donne vacillates between terror in the face of death and the hope that death will lose its sting and concede victory to the Resurrection. "Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?" he asks his Lord.~° Ever awareof his need to ask forgiveness, the poet exhorts the angels to trumpet into resurrection all mortal humanity "At the round earth's imagined corners.''2° Donne then becomes a seventeenth century Paul in one of his best known sonnets: Death, be not proud, though some have call6d thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so; For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee dO go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou 'art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy' or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swellst thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally ' And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.2~ For the original Paul, all that the poe.ts have hinted at, pined for, groped after, and, perhaps, found, is embodied in Christ as image of the invisible God. Christ "reflects the glory of God" and "sustains the universe by his word of power" (Heb 1:3). By that word we are "strengthened with all power, according to the glory of his might" (Col l:l l). The "small breath" of the earth in Roethke's "Root Cellar" is the treasure we carry "in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us." We carry in our bodies "the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in oOr bodies" (2 Co 4:7, 10-11). Our universal experience of being "thrown down" in the wasting of our outer nature can-not quench'Wordsworth's "embers" of renewal in our inner nature (2 Co 4:16). It is merely a thorn in the flesh, a reminder that God's "power.is made ~SNAP pp. 927-8 19Sonnet I, NAP p. 248 2°Sonnet 7, NAP p. 249 ~Sonnet 10, NAP p. 250 51~1 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 perfect in weakness." For that reason Paul could happily boast of his weakness so that the power of Christ might rest on him (2 Co 12:9). The exultant herald's cry and the victorious soldier's tread exhaust their power and glory. Christ's defeat on the cross manifests his all the more, "For he was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God." As a result, Christ now deals with us not in weakness, butin power (2 Co 13:3-4). Paul therefore prays that he be able~ to accept his humanity and its impo-tence, in order to~ know Christ and the, power of his resurrection, which will "change our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by,the power which enables him even to subject all things to himself" (Ph 3:8-H, 21). The Apostle prays for,us, too, that we might share in that power and glory and life. Speaking of his own suffering as the glory of the Ephesian Christians, Paul prays That acc6rding to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power interiorly through his Spirit. ; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have power to comprehend., the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, to him be glory . (Ep 3:13-21). Paul further clarifies the nature of the revivifying power of Christ's love as he describes the different degrees of glory proper to the various earthly and heavenly bodies. Using the same metaphor of sowing and growth suggested in Ephesians in the words "rooted in love," the author writes in 1 Co 15:42-3: "What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in shame, but raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, but raised in power." The full mystery and many-sided paradox of how weakness becomes power; shame glory, and mortality immortality is beautifully summed up in John Heni'y Newman's Parochial and Plain Sermon entitled "The Cross of Christ, the Measure of the World." Newman says that the Cross has brought together and made consistent all that seemed discordant and aimless. It has taught'us how to live, how to use this world, what to expect, what t~ desire, what to hope. It is the tone into which all the ~trains of this world's music are ultimately to be resolved.22 To resolve th~se discordant strains, Chris~ endu,red,every paradox. To teach us how to live with ambiguity and in~.security, Christ put mystery in place Qf what we would otherwise try to solve as a mind-teasing puzzle. To unburden us of the curse of the Law, Christ became accursed o~n the Tree. To obtain for us that which we most grasp at, Christ unhanded ~l~i. To transform our folly into wisdom, Christ became foolishness. To free us from sin, Christ became sin. To loose the bonds of our servitude, Christ became 22Parochial and Plain Sermons, London, 1875, Vol. 6, p. 85. ° ~ "Matchwood, Immortal.Diamond" / 519 a slave. To empower our impotence, Christ became weakness itself. To ransom us from bankruptcy, Christ became poverty. To glorify our dis-honor, Christ became shame. To fill our vacuum, Christ emptied himself. All of which prompted G. M. Hopkins to write in his poem, "That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection": "In a flash, at a trumpet crash, ! am at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and this Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, is immortal diamond.''23 23NAP p. 905 Now Available As Reprint An Apostolic Spirituality~for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image Frank X. Reitzel, C.R. Father Reitzel is a member of the Congregation of the Resurrection who has spent most of his active years in his priesthood teaching English literature at the high school, university and seminary levels. He has also done considerable work in counseling, spiritual direction and retreat work. Presently he is on a sabbatical leave doing research study at the Gregorian University in Rome. His address on leaving Rome will be: Resurrection College; Westmount Road North, Waterloo; Ontario, Canada N2L 3G7. Father Reitzel hopes that the present article will form the chapter of a projected book on the concept and image of the Temple as a means of prayer. Part I he Odyssey is most often mentioned as the classic example in literature of the use of thenliterary device or symbol of a journey within which to frame a story. It is important, however, to remember, that every journey has a goal or end to be attained. For Ulysses it was to return to his homeland and there to lay rightful claim to his kingdom, his queen and his home. The traditional name for such a story is epic. St. Luke's Greek cultural back-ground is sufficient evidence on which to base a presupposition that he was familiar with this story form of a journey ending in a kingdom reclaimed. Both his Gospel account and The Acts of the Apostles have epic qualities built on the basic image of a journey. The intention of this paper, however, is to focus attention on the goal of that journey, the Temple at Jerusalem, as Luke uses it in his Gospel in order to show that an awareness of this image can aid a reflective and prayerful reading of the text of the third gospel. The journey theme and the Temple image are equally evident in Acts; but I shall refer to these only in passing. 520 St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image / 521 The Journey It is now generally accepted that the journey theme is an important factor, in the literary structure of Luke's version of the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. In every epic the arena of the journey is vast, sweeping from one end of the known world to the other; for Jesus it really begins in heaven and ends there. The action that takes place on earth within the limits of time and space tells of his journey from Nazareth to Jerusalem. At Jerusalem is the focal point and goal of the journey, the Temple. By using principles of literary criticism we can discover that Luke has artistically placed his references to the Temple at significant places in his narrative. I suggest that the position of these references clearly and deliber-ately divides the text of the Gospel, for artistic and meditative purposes, into a five-part structure that is similar to that of classical epics and dramas. Paradise Lost, for example, is constructed in twelve books or movements in which the poet John Milton retells the tragic story of the loss of paradise by Adam and Eve. The number twelve, referring to the twelve months of the year, symbolizes a full-life span or a life's journey. In his second epic, Paradise Regained, Milton uses the more compressed five-movement structure to tell the story of.Christ's cosmic struggle with Satan. In every case the artist freely chooses what he considers to be the proper and fitting frame for his work or story. In order to enhance his retelling of the inspiring story of Jesus that had been-handed on to him Luke employs a similar five-part structure. Later, in his account of the beginnings of the Church, he describes the missionary journeys of Peter and Paul in a two-part structure similar to that of many modern dramas. Moreover, in both works Luke uses carefully placed refer-ences to the Temple at Jerusalem as a central image which unifies the structure and the story of the Gospel as Luke presents it to us. An aware-ness of this image and its function can aid us in using Luke's Gospel as a guide to prayer and a means of personal growth. Reliable Scripture scholarship has shown that the author of the third Gospel was a man of Greek birth and culture who wrote for a Greek Christian audience. Like Paul (arid like ourselves) Luke had not been a contemporary eye-witness of Jesus. He had learned and been inspired by the story of Jesus as he had received it from the apostolic eye-witnesses such as Peter. He wrote to Theophilus, to persons of similar culture and background, that is, to all those like Theophilus in the world. But if we are his audience why does he use the center of Jewish worship as one of his main images? The Temple Image Temples have played a pa.rt in almost every culture; but they differ in one significant feature from the Temple at Jerusalem. A temple for all 522 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 pagans (gentiles) was a holy place; it was the house of the gods. But for the Israelites, Yahweh, the One True God, actually manifested his presence in his chosen dwelling place on Mount Zion. The Israelites were prepared and they were often called upon to protest that belief with their lives. They did not just casually believe this--they knew that God dwelt in their midst. No matter where he might be, the devout Israelite could face east to the Temple and enter into prayerful communion.with his God; he could experience an immediate and personal realization of the presence of Yahweh. The ideal, of course, was to make the journey to Jerusalem and there actually present oneself to God, as he had. commanded: "Three times a year all your men-folk must present,themselves before the Lord Yahweh" (Ex 23:17)? Similar references to. this belief and practice in the Old Testament are numerous. The visions of many of the prophets took place in the Temple. It was there that Isaiah (Is 6) and Jeremiah. (Jr 1) w.ere commissioned by God to go forth on their prophetic journeys to .his people. The prophet Amos had condemned the unjust and unprayerful uses that some people made of the place of worship, emphasizing, thereby, that God',s presence, not the bricks and mortar, was of importance. Whenever his people turned to false gods and rejected him, Yahweh abandoned them and their Temple. Each time in history that the bricks-and-mortar temple was destroyed it graphically symbolized Yahweh's displeasure with his ~.people and his ab-sence from them. Through the psalmist as through the prophets, Yahweh insisted that the Temple was sacred because he chose to dwell there. He promised to be with his p.eople as long as they were faithi'ul to him; if they betrayed him, he would withdraw his presence and the Temple, no longer sanctified, would be destroyed. That history and thai faith, were a part of the Judaeo-Christian heritage handed on to Luke. That is evidenced by the fact that his Gospel ends,with the statement that praying and worshipping in the Temple at Jerusalem continued to be a normal practice of Christ's followers after the ascension. And at the beginning of Acts Luke indicates that the same mentality and practices continued to prevail. The disciples, he tells us, went up to the Temple each day at the prescribed liturgical hours to pray (Ac 2:46; 3:1). A shift was beginning to evolve, however; Luke says that for "'the breaking of the bread" they met in private homes. They were Christian-Jews; though a gradual change was "taking place in their worship, they had n6t broken away from their Hebrew. Temple-centered roots. That break would Occur later. But at the time of Luke's writing the Temple was still regarded as the House of Prayer, the place where God made himself manifest among his l~eople. ~Biblical quotations in this article have been made from The Jerusalem Bible (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1966); and from The R. S. 'V. Interlinear Greek-English New Testament, by Rev. Alfred Marshall (London: Samuel Bagster and Sons Ltd. 1978). St. Luke's 'Use of the Temple Image / 523 The Literary Structure It is perfectly acceptable in literature to use poetic devices to emphasize certain features of the text. Luke artistically uses repeated references to the Temple.in order to draw the listener or reader to a more reflective and prayerful attention,to the words and the story action o,f his Gospel. Luke's story of Jesus of Nazareth, which has as one of its themes the struggle between good and evil, is based on a five-part.division. An aware-ness~ of this structure and its main themes can assist us in a reflective and prayerful reading of this account of the gospel. It is important to note that this dramatic and reflective outline (given below) does not run counter to nor violate the exacting topical outline that exegetes suggest for study of the text. This literar~y and meditative approach emph~asizes the dramatic quali-ties of the cosmic struggle between Christ and Satan and recognizes the artistic unity in Luke's use 9f the Temple as a focal image. An Outline For Meditation For careful study of the text, commentaries generally outline Luke's Gospel in the following way:2 ~ (1) The Prologue 1:1-4 (2) The Infancy Narrative 1:5--2:52 (3) The Preparation for Ministry 3:1--4:13 (4) The Galilean Minis~try 4:14---9:50 (5) The Journey Na~ative .~ 9:51--19:28 (6) The Jerusalem Ministry 19:29--21:38 (7) The Passion and Glorification 22:1--24:53 ¯ This can be a valugble g~u.ide to discover what Luke tells us about Jesus, his teaching and 'his ministry. It acknowledges the importance of the jour-ney, but only as a pan,of the outli.ne rather than as a theme throughout the entire gospel. According to his introduction, however,. Luke wrote for a prayerful and reflective audience in an artistic way so as to spark the imagination, the feelings,jthe.heart of his readers and to focus attention on the Person of Jesus in order to open their ears and eyes to respond as fully as possible to the message of the Lord as Luke presents it to them. Jesus taught his disciples that his 'message is best heard in prayer and the graces to respond to it best received in prayer. For such a prayerful consideration and use of Luke's text of the gospel I suggest the following outline. PROLOGUE: 1:1-25 ' (a) Introduction: why and to whom he writes. (b) Milieu: time and pl~ce. 2James A. Michener, The Source (Greenwich, CT: Fawcett Publications, 1967), p. 266. 524 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 Zachariah; the Temple scene, in the sanctuary. ACT I: Infancy: Prepare for life. Begins in the Temple: Pre-sentation. Introduces John the Baptist; then Jesus. Closes with the Temple scene. ACT II: Preparation For Mission: ~ Mission, decision, conflict. Career of John the Baptist; genealogy of Jesus. The temp-tations, ending with the Temple image. A hint that Jesus and Satan will meet again. ACT III: Journey and Ministry: Jesus, led by the Spirit, begins his journey toward Jerusalem; He commences his public teaching. A special mention of the Temple (18:10). The section closes with Jesus taking possession of the Temple. ACT IV: Temple and Contest: Jesus teaches daily in the Temple. His enemies plot to kill him. Example of the widow's offering. At night Jesus withdraws from the Temple to the Mount of Olives. 1:26-2:52 3:1-4:13 4:14-19:48 20:1-21:38 ¯ Act V: Conflict: 22:1-24:52a Passion, death and resurrection of Jesus. Signal phrase: "Satan enteri~d." Judas goes to the priests. Trial; condemnation; death. Veil of the Temple is torn. Resurrection and ascension. EPILOGUE: ~ 24:52b-53 The apostles begin their journey in the Tem-ple. The Good News for Prayer In my outline of Luke's gospel, I have indicated that each of the major divisions end witha'specific use of the image of the Temple. In every case of these references the use flows smoothly and naturally out of the thought and action of the story. Artistically, the Temple image serves the same purpose as a major refrain in a symphony or opera; the audience hears it in the background and is reminded~of a principal character or of the primary theme of the work. Like an organist, Luke is able to play on three manuals at once. He uses the image of the Temple, repeated at significant moments in his text, to weave into a unity the principal themes of the life story of Jesus of Nazareth. St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image / 595 The Temple image establishes the goal of the journey theme and gives it a continuity throughout the whole of the gospel as Luke presents it. Moreover, this image repeated at important instances in the narrative emphasizes and gives a continuity to the main theme of the story of Jesus: his life, death and resurrection. In the course of his journey to Jerusalem, Jesus makes allusions to and direct prophecies, of his death, and resurrec-tion, such as: "The. Son of Man" he said "is destined to suffer grievously, to be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be put to death, and to be raised up on the , third day" (Lk 9:22). But it is the carefully placed references to the Temple that hold this theme of death and resurrection before our eyes throughout the text of this gospel. For at the end of each major section, designated in the outline above, when reference is made to the Temple something ends and something new begins; death and resurrection are symbolized. In the end the Temple of brick and mortar would be destroyed, as Jesus prophesied, to be replaced forever by the eternal Temple of the Risen Christ. Evidence in Greek Terms The literary prologue (1:9-25) ends with the priestly action of Zachariah in that sacred area of the Temple, the sanctuary, while the people wait outside praying. The events recorded in this episode are interpreted as a signal of the end of the Old Testament and the beginning of the New. It is significant that in the Greek text Luke uses the specific term "sanctuary" or "holy place" (naos) three times in this prologue as his reference to the Temple: (1:9;22). He does not use this term again until after Christ,s death on the cross when he, tells us dramatically, with the tearing of the veil of the "Temple" (naos), that the old has ended and the new has begun~(23:45). There are, however, some instances in the course of his narrative in which Luke makes reference to the Temple or to the sanctuary :with a more general Greek term "the house of God" (oikos theou), because the refer-ence at such times is not essential to the narrative structure. When, for example, Jesus speaks o.f. the prophet "who was murdered between the altar and the sanctuary" (Lk I1:5 l), Luke uses the Greek term, "the house of God" (oikos theos). When, however, the reference is made to the Temple proper and is essential to the narrative structure, he uses the precise Greek term the Temple (hieros). This is the word which he uses at the end of each of the major sections that I have designated as acts in the above outline, as well as in the last verse, the literary epilogue, of his gospel account. Accord, ing to scholars3 Luke.was following a reliable tradition in his use of these 3The Jerome Biblical Commentary, ed. Raymond E. Brown, Joseph A. Fitzmeyer, Roland E. Murphy (New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1968), p. 119, 44:19. (For subsequent notes this will be referred to as JBC.)--There is a°good outline of Luke's Gospel for meditative reading in The Gospel According to St. Luke. ed. Alois St6ger (London: Burns & Oates, 1969), two volumes. 526 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 Greek terms,, and should not be accused of inconsistency. Of importance in the present consideration,~ however, is Luke's use of the term "the Tem-ple" (hieros), with all its sacred and imaginative connotations from the Old Testament as well as its Christian ,associations with the life of Jesus. This is the" term which Luke uses when he refers to the Temple scene (2:46) with which he completes his narrative o'f~the infancy of Jesus. Simi-larly, he ends with this same Temple image what | have designated as Act II, which describes Jesus' preparation for his mission:" Jesus rejects the third temptation 6f Satan who had led him "to the pinnacle of the Temple" (4:9) and begins his public ministry. With one special excepiion (18:9-14), Luke does not use this precise term for the Temple again until the ehd of the third'section of his narrative (indicated as Act III)when Jesus enters the Temple and forcefully takes possession of it as his Father's house (19:45-46). In e~,ery case when Luke uses this term; we notice that there is an end and a beginning; the life-death-resurrection theme is symbolized in the Temple. At this part of the narrative (19:48) the actual suffering and death of Jesus are imminent, for the growing opposition of his enemies has become a calculated decision to destroy him. Throughout Act IV Jesus teaches daily in the Temple area (hieros); but at night for his own safety he withdraws to the Mount of Olives. He continueS to use the Temple for his mission, but he has begun to abandon it; it is no longer a place of safety for him. In Act V, his rejection of the Temple of bricks and mortar is completed in ~he violent tearing of the veil of the Temple (23:45) to signal the beginning of the reign of Christ. In the epilogue, Luke tells us that the apostles went to the Temple after the ascension of Jesus to await, in, prayer, their call to journey and mission. Each dramatic section of this outline of'the action 0f Luke's gospel closes with a precise use of the image of the Temple which, I ~uggest, holds up before the reflective reader the main theme 'of the life, death and resurrection of the story of Jesus. A reflective and careful exami-nation of even a few' of these sections will bear this out. The Prologue As Prayer ' Luke says that although his readers are familiar with the story of the life bf Jesus, he intends "to write an ordered account." I Shggest that his purpose is to write :an artistic and' meditative account of the Gospel in order to lead his refiders to prayer and a deeper consideration of the events o~ that story. The prologue (as I have designated it, verses ! to 25) can be used as a unit for prayer which inv~olves the whole person of th6 reader. For study purposes exegetes rightly identify as prologue 6nly the first ~our°verses~, because theseare writtenin very stylized and formal-Greek. That is proper to a formal introduction; but a literary prologue, besides'addressing the work to the~hudience, also links it to the past and gives.th'e~ audience some hints of the principal themes in the action that is to follow, The formal introduction, that is the first four verses, appropriately ,addresses the St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image / 597 Gospel to Theophilus anti to everyone who professes a love of God. Verses 5 to .7 make the link: this is not going to be. a Gr~eek story, but one set in Israel. The first personages to whom we are introduced are two of the finest people that culture and religion produced: "Both were just in the sight of God and scrupulously observed all the commandments and observances of the Lord" :(1:6). Every word of this quotation is rich in history, meaning and imagery. The word "just," often translated as "righteous," "worthy," -"virtuous," is a summary of the history of God's dealings with the Hebrew people. We should also be aware of the suggestive power of names such as Zachariah: "His name means 'Yahweh has remembered'.TM A note of tragedy is sounded with the words that Elizabeth was barren; but the author hastens to set his scene for the main action and to suggest his main themes. It is the solemn hour of, w9rship in the sacred dwelling place of the True God. It is one of the great moments of Zachariah's priestly career; he has been chosen by lot to offer the incense in the sanctuary. While the faithful outside continue in prayer, Zachariah is plunged into a deep mystical ex-perience. Luke's mention of the angel Gabriel (1:19) is regarded as a signal that the new age is about to begin? The same angel had commanded the prophet Daniel to tell his people that their exile and oppression were at an end and that a messenger would come to herald the advent of a new era (Book of Daniel, chapters 9 and 10). By drawing attention to several pa~al-lels between Zachariah's experience and that of Daniel (such as the evening hour of prayer and their being left speechless6) Luke implies that God is about to fulfill his promise and begin that new era. With this incident in the Temple Luke also symbolizes the coming to an end of the Old Covenant and the beginning of the New. This. of course, will be developed and made increasingly more clear as the narrative unfolds. For the moment, this is the hour for which the whole world has been waiting. God is about to enter into the history of man. By closing the prologue with a reference to the Temple (l:.22).Luke esta~blishes a pattern for his symbolizatio.n of a life-death-resurrection t.heme which will be repeated throughout the gospel-story at the end of each significant dramatic section. Use of Imagination in Prayer A studious reading of the Gospel is important to avoid mere flights of 4Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. ed. Gerhard Kittel; trans. G. W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. E~rdmans Publishing Co. 1965). For "hieros" see 111. pp. 221-247. For "naos". IV, pp. 880-890. (Subsequent references m these notes will be to Kittel.)~Klaus Baltzer, in "The Meaning of the Temple in the Lukan Writings.'" Harvard Theolog!cal Review (Misso~ula. Montana: Scholars' Press) 58 (1965), pp. 263-277. regards Luke's use of terms for the Temple as "inconsistent." 5JBC, p. 121, #44:27. 6JBC, p. 121, 4#44:28. Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 fancy, and the use of a good commentary can be of invaluable help. But,a prayerful approach through the use of imagination and other faculties will prevent the opposite errbr of regarding the Gospel as a mere intellectual exercise book. St. Luke's Gospel is a prayer book of the highest merit. But we must bring to it our whole selves as human beings; all our senses and faculties must be employed in our praying. The passage designated as the. end of Act II (2:41-52) is an exemplary unit of action and dialogue which can be momentarily lifted out of the context and used for meditation which involves our whole person in it. ThE opening sentences immediately direct our thought and imagination to Jerusalem and draw us into the journey of Jesus. "Every year" and "Passover" should be equally significant words to us as they were for the people of Jesus' own day. The first activity"is in the world of human, every-day affairs and should alert us to the fact that prayer begins and take~ place in the world of events, circumstances, and persons in the course of our daily lives. Hence, we take our place among friends and acquaintances, with Jesus and Mary. We, too, are going up to Jerusalem, to the Temple, for a joyful celebration. The text, of course, leaves the details of the visit to our imagination. Our prayer at this level might valuably draw us to dwell upon 'what happened at the Temple when Jesus celebrated his entry into adulthood. However,~that can only be surmised; we should not allow our-selves to be sidetracked by it. The text urges us to follow more closely; it puts the emphasis on what occurs after the ceremony of Jesus' Bar Mitz-vah, The return trip to Nazareth is usual and all that might be expected after aj0yful visit to the Temple. Again, it is the world of everyday experience. Jesus was not with his parents, but "they assumed he was with the cara-van." They were conscientious parents and looked for him. No panic is suggested in their action: "They sought him among acquaintances and relations." Where else would one look for a normal twelve-year-old boy who had just experienced the excitement of receptiofi into adulthood? However, "when they failed to find him," anxieties

Issue 21.4 of the Review for Religious, 1962. ; ALOYSIUS J. MEHR, O.S.C. Community Exercises in Religious Life Introduction: The Religious Community in Perspec-tive The religious communityx exists within two wider communities from which it draws its own unique vitality and significance. These two communities--forming one kingdom of God--are the Church and the total human world. Both are immeasurably deep and charged with dynamism; and we cannot arrive at an adequate grasp of the significance of community exercises in religious life unless we see the posture of our own particular commu-nity within these two great communities which are great covenants, the covenant of creation and the cove-nant of Christ. The religious community, however, is not related to the Church and the world only extrinsically as though these formed some kind of background or framework out-side of the community. Kather, the religious community exists at the point of encounter between two great lines of force and destiny which are the Church and the world. Its being calls out to the total human Community from which it arises and in whose service it acts; and its being is a response, deep and creative, to the call of the Word of God. The religious community sums up, symbolizes, and is an eikon of the human community and of the Church. The religious community, therefore, arises from the depths of creation, from the depths of life, lost in the eons of the life's growth itself.2 We carry on the work of crea- 2 This paper was written for and delivered at the international convention on Crosier spirituality held at Maaseik, Belgium, July 24-26, 1961. It has been revised so as to make it applicable to re-ligious communities in genera!. 2 Teilhard de Chardin, The Phenomenon of Man, translated by. Bernard Wall (New york: Harper, 1959); The Divine Milieu, trans-lated by Bernard Wall (New York: Harper, 1960). Hans Urs yon 4. 4. Aloysius J. Mehr, O.S.C., is on the faculty of Crosier House of Studies, Route 1, Wallen Road, Fort Wayne 8, Indiana. VOLUME 21, 1962 30! 4" Aloysius Mehr, O.~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tion, converging, as Teilhard sees it, to a kind of world unity in which all things are synthesized into community,a The direction of the history of life has moved through phases of biology ("biogenesis") into the world of incar-nate spirits ("noogenesis"); and in the New Covenant this force is caught up in the moment of the Resurrection, present among us as a pledge of the final entry into the glory of the Lord (kabod Yahweh). Our community-being, our being-together (Mitsein in Heidegger's termi-nology) is thus wrapped up in the forces and destinies of life, surging on in space-time towards its fullness, the seed of which it carries in itself at the present. Moreover, our community-being is also wrapped up in the fulfillment of creation, the new creation in Christ who draws all to the parousial and paschal destiny of all creation--a destiny that is already sacramentally present in a community called together in the Eucharistic sacrificial meal. These are undoubtedly far-reaching and difficult themes the full significance of which will always remain inaccessible to us, lost behind the veil of the future and the inscrutable destinies of man in the divine plan. We must expect, then, that any discussion of the religious community must, in its ultimate significance, shadow off into mystery. We shall not be able to lay out the forces in us as problems which can be solved, here and now, once and for all times. Community-being is essentially dynamic: we, as men and as religious, are homines vi-atores. Our fellowship in God is an eikon--an image, a sign, a symbol--of the Church localized in our areas of concern, but the Church which is the people of God on the march (in via), creating (in/ieri) what we most deeply are unto fullness in Christ who fulfills all in all (Eph 1:23; Jas 1:18). From this viewpoint we are able to see, or rather to begin to see, the profound significance of community exercises. Community exercises are the historical and temporal incarnations of our being-together (Mitsein). There is a deep and vast need, truly an ontological need, a need arising from our being-together, for authentic community activity that emanates from the inexhaust-ible fullness of our being.4 What we are demands suc-cessive real-ization; our being overflows into our life. Activity, operatio, exercise--these are not on some pe-riphery of the real, bu~ rather incarnations in the fabric of the real world. Man is embodied soul and besouled body. His existence is incarnate existence, caught up in Balthasar, Science, Religion, and Christianity, translated by Hilda Graef (London: Bums and Oates0 1958). s Teilhard develops this theme in The Phenomenon of Man: ~ Gabriel Marcel, Homo Fiator, translated by Emma Crawford (Chicago: Regnery0 1955), p. 26. solidarity with the corporeal universe but transcending it as spirit.5 Human being demands expression; as in-carnate, it is essentially temporal, basically historical, realizing itself further and more fully in successive and authentic encounters with the real--in the mysteries of birth, death, conversion, sickness, and above all, love.~ This paper is, first of all, a re-investigation of certain societal universals--relationships of persons which are the anthropological, sociological, and theological binding forces which help to produce a healthy and fruitful com-munity. The term "relationship" will be used more fre-quently than "community exercises" or "community ac-tivities." This, however, should not confuse the reader. An activity has social implications and social value if it is a relationship to others. The fact, therefore, that we will not group our material under the usual headings like "prayer life" or "recreations" or "the apostolate" should not tempt the reader to conclude that we are not speaking of things usually thought of as "community ex-ercises." We will speak primarily about the unifying forces, the community-building potential of community exercises, whether these be a simple conversation, a rec-reation, the Mass, superior-subject relationships, pro-fessional relationships of instructors with students, or even the exercise of talent in a "private" way within the community. It would be wrong to see as binding forces only those activities in which all of us perform the same movements or say the same words. On the other hand, community and society can hardly exist where there is no mutual a.ctivity, no common involvement of all the members in some fruitful, meaningful task. Finally, this analysis of communal activities precisely in their unifying value views the religious community in its objective, intersubjective, and Christian dimension. Part I: Community in Social Patterns To an anthropologist7 a very significant characteristic of the monastic community is that it is a celibate, reli-giously oriented institution'. This is without precedent or parallel in primitive or preliterate culture. In general, as the society becomes progressively complex,, certain indi-a Von Balthasar .develops this theme in his book Science, Religion, and Christianity. e Gabriel Marcel, The Philosophy O] Existence, translated by 4. Manya Harari (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949)', p. 6. 7The Reverend Alphonse Sowada, OiS.C., received his master's degree in anthropology from the Catholic University of America, Community Washington, D.C., in the spring o[ 1961. In an interview with the Exercises Reverend Ronald Kidd, O.S.C., he initiated in outline form the following analysis of the monastic community based, on anthropo-logical procedure. Father Sowada is'presently working in the New Guinea Mission, VOLUME 21, 1962 3O3 ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 3O4 viduals are set aside solely for religious activity. Hence the phenomenon even of the Israelitic priestly office, given to the tribe of Levi, suggests a somewhat highly developed social complexus. Furthermore, sexual prac-tices become restricted for religious specialists only in civilized, cultured society. The religious community, com-bining both factors, arises only late in the development of a people. This unique development suggests various problems: a separation from the elemental and primitive social binding forces, perhaps a tendency towards over-com-plexity and hyper-specialization, in general, a danger of an ever greater artificiality. Man-to-Nature Relationships The ecological system comprises the sum total of the man-to-nature relationships in a given social organiza-tion. It comprises all the activities by which these people make a living--how they satisfy their elemental needs from nature. Thus, the supplying of food, the manufac-ture of clothing, the realm of technology, and attendant organizations and belief are .elements in an ecological system. In primitive societies, these are the concern of everyone; social organizations and belief patterns (treated in the following sections of this paper) arise from this common involvement in wresting an existence from na-ture. The ecological system forms the foundation for the actual social forms of the people. In the religious community, participation in this basic, elemental social activity is often frustrated. The general pattern is the specialization of ecological functions; they are more often than not entrusted to a few--the prior,,;, procurators, and other superiors. As a result, the remain-ing members of the community lack this elemental bind-ing force with one another and with the community as a whole. This can easily lead to frustration, complacency, and eventually create parasites within the community, In this connection it should be noted that the work of those religious who are engaged in manual labor almost exclusively is much more in line with the needs expressed in an ecological system, provided that they are truly a part of the community in which and for which they work. In order to utilize this natural, social binding force, these religious must feel themselves solidly within the whole community. They should experience the same satisfaction that the son or daughter enjoys when they begin to co-operate with their parents in providing a livelihood for the family. The social bindings formed by the ecological system are intense and deep. For the clerical and teaching members of a community, there is also a need for an acceptable way either to fulfill this function or to find an adequate substitute. The apostolate might seem like a perfect substitute. But in the apostolate the results are apt to be too far distant for the immediate kind of satisfaction caused by common involvement in providing the basic necessities of life. In fact, where superiors or subjects try to make' apostolic work an "acceptable" sublimation, the very 'remoteness of results can tend precisely to create further frustration and complacency. '~ In general, any project in which personal initiative is called into play within and for the community and in which a sense of fulfillment can be forthcoming ~can be used as a substitute. Such projects are of great value in binding together the religious,community. Stress should be placed°especially on the matter of results; for example, graduation, profession, and ordination days should be planned wisely to be days of community joy in accom-plishment rather than of relief in being through with tedious work. Although effective substitutes depend on both subjects and superiors, it is the superiors, above all, who must see the absolute need for them. Individual ~religious may have the initiative to make valuable .suggestions, but :the only person who can integrate these suggested projects into the community and give them their full social force is ,the superior. Without due attention, the community moves towards increasingly artificial social forms, lacking and attempting to substitute for, the basic level of social solidarity. In order to have a healthy community, we must find effective and meaningful substitutes. Man-to-Man Relationships Next, we deal with interpersonal relationships, en-compassing social ability and practice, questions of status and hierarchy in the communal organization, questions of law regulating interpersonal behavior, family orienta-tion, pressure groups, informal and formal groupings. This is the area of personal response and personal: activ-ity~ phenomena that vary with,each individual. Consid-eration of the interpersonal relationships are of 'utmost importance in analyzing the social structure of a com-munity; they form the operative and dynamic structure of society. Perhaps the most evident charact~eristic of interpersonal relations within the religious community is its thorough structure ot control. First of all, everyone knows every-one else and every individual can control his response thereby. Moreover, the social control within our unique form of community is almost familial or patriarchal. This is a good basis for developed social organization. In a healthy community a person is a part of things, 4. + + Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 305 ÷ Aloysim OM.e~h.Cr., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS he knows what is expected of him, he is not bewildered or lost within the crowd. He is at home, he knows how to approach everyone else, he knows how to regulate topics of conversation, to account for individual differ-ences, to accept the particular interests of the other mem-bers of the religious society. He enjoys that ecce quam bonum feeling which is a natural result of being [ul_ly ac-cepted by the group. He belongs to them, uncondition-ally; they are happy to have him and would be distressed at losing him. As. a further consequence, he feels shel-tered, contented, and can gradually abandon all his poor little defensive mechhnisms as well as the defects of. char-acter which necessitate them. All his potential gifts can flower, he can. give himself up confidently to his most generous aspirations. Such. :are the blessings which accrue to an individual who lives in a healthy group definitely ready to accept him.s There are, however, definite dangers in our communal make-up. The first and perhaps most serious danger is that of artificiality--artificially controlled responses. To the extent that responses become too automatic, too pat, too set, too taken-for-granted, the very situation which ought to promote solidarity could conceivably destroy it. Responses must be genuine; meaningless responses are detrimental to community. The artificiality of community llfe can be much re-lieved by warm parental and fraternal relationships be-tween superiors and subjects, instructors and students, and, above all, between equals. This fosters the character formation that ordinarily occurs within the family. Con-sequently, everyone must take his role in community seriously; he must be open, understanding, sympathetic, and avoid meaningless responses and inflexibility policy in the name of functional efficiency. Professors ought to be aware of the fact that attitudes built up by personal relationships with students are as important as the material being taught. On the other hand, students must realize that they have much to learn and that their attitude towards their instructors is extremely important. Entering. into dialogue is always a two way street. Within the community deep and authentic friendships should be fostered, for personality grows in proportion as it is opened to others. Fear of friendship shatters munity and leaves only a group of isolated introverts living in the same building. Mistaken notions of partic, ular friendship have forced many a religious to lead an unnecessarily lonely life. Authentic friendship means that I am genuinely con-e Communal Lile, translated by a Religious of the Sacred Heart (Westminster: Newman, 1957), p. 267. cerned with my neighbor as a person. When interest is only pretended, people instinctively feel that they are be-ing treated, not as human beings, but as a case, an object, an It. Make-believe interest, pharisaical interest does more harm than good. Every Christian, and certainly every religious, should be conscious of the manyreasons why he should be deeply and genuinely interested in his neighbor in all places and at all times. Another danger in our communal make-up presents it-self where subjects refuse to cooperate with their supe-rior, or where incapable men are invested with status-power. In primitive tribes, subjects who refuse to work with their superior are simply eliminated. Moreover, a leader who blunders in personal relations or in tribal projects, for example, failing to bring off a hunting raid successfully, loses prestige ipso facto. But in our com-munity, the social status of the members is not easily changed. This has its advantages and disadvantages. More permanent social relationships can be formed so as to .give the individuals a greater security and to give the social order a basic stability. On the other hand, where poor relat!onships are formed, this situation too tends to perpetuate itself. Overspecialization is another factor which endangers solidarity in a community. Anthropologists distinguish between diversification, which can lead to mutual de-pendence and promote solidarity, and specialization, in which a member withdraws himself from the community in order to devote his time and energies to some partlc-ular field. In primitive societies, specialists share perforce a vast number of tribal interests: the medicine man is interested in the buffalo hunt and thereby enjoys a social binding to the hunters; he is involved in wars and raids since his status to some extent depends on a perpetuation of the present social organization. In general, in primitive cul-tures, bindings between religious functions and the re-mainder of tribal functions are very strong. But when society develops, it tends to free itself more and more from nature (the ecological system); and it does so only to become more and more dependent upon man and man-to-man relations. This dependence must serve as a constructive and not a destructive force. In order to prevent diversification--which is absolutely necessary in a complex society--from becoming special-ization, we must manifest and recognize on a community level our mutual dependence; for example, the very real dependence of one teacher upon all the others. Here we see the importance of faculty meetings in which the par-ticular field of competence of one person is seen as com-plementing that of another. There are many ways of Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 196Z ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr~ O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS keeping different interests and fields of competence from becoming divisive. Perhaps greater stress should be placed on the apostolate as a community apostolate, a common effort, accomplished in different ways by each individual, but without thereby becoming any less communal in in-spiration, motivation, and reality. An awareness of our mutual dependence is absolutely necessary for the proper integration of personal activity towards our social goals. Interpersonal relationships in the religious community include not only individual-to-individual relations but also those of groups.-A formal grouping is one which is established de [acto and is recognized by the society as exercising a certain control of the whole. Chapters, councils, a faculty, special committees for accreditation, and so forth are all formal groupings. Informal groupings are not officially set up or estab-lished. We see examples of informal groupings during common recreation periods or when some religious work together informally as a group. Informal groupings can at times exercise more influence than the formal group-ings; that is especially true if the formal groupings are inoperative or if the i.nterrelationships between formal groupings is neglected. It is in the informal groupings that public opinion is formed and in many cases social innovation begins. The informal groupings should pro-vide much of the initiative and dynamism necessary for any society to be alive, to grow and develop, and to keep in touch with the members and their real needs and as-pirations. While informal groupings are very important, formal groupings are even more important in a religious com-munity; ours is by its nature a hierarchical society, and one strongly so. Therefore the effective functioning of our formal groupings is especially important for the vi-tality of the entire community. Inoperative formal group-ings, or artificiality in formal ,groupings, invites seg-mentation of the society, then disintegration, and finally demoralization. The history of the American Indian is an extreme case of precisely this. Factors leading to inoperative formal groupings are many. Among them are age differences, lack of precise definitions of ideals, and immaturity. For a well-function-ing community, superiors-,must be willing to present straightforward proposals to their councils or others' whose advice they are to seek. This means the full pres-entation of real cases that involve discussion and choice, not simply decisions for'ratification.9 In short, he must seek to collaborate. Also, he must have the humility and wisdom to consider minority positions; seeking support Ibid., pp. 270-273. only in numbers infallibly excites mistrust, resentment, opposition, or utter indit~erence. "The prudent and most efficient thing for the superior to do is to make the group share, from the beginning, in the common task.''1° Cooperation between formal and informal groupings is of the essence in achieving a healthy, vital c0mmufiity. This means that we must understand the roles which these groups are to play within, the community. More-over, since the religious community is so strongly hier-archical and the superior tO a large extent controls the interrelationships between formal and informal group-ings, he should be doubly alert, astute, and comprehend-ing in regard to the ideas generated in the informal groupings.Suspicion on the part of a superior is harmful to the vitality of the community, kills personal initiative, and tends again to artificial substitutions and the seg-mentation of the community fabric. But beyond this a superior must have the ability to select appropriate ideas from the informal groupingsmthose ideas which will prove beneficial to the community. It is difficult to re-spect a superior who accepts every suggestion that is of-fered to him or proves that he does not have the ability to choose well. In a primitive society he would in that eventuality lose status. Man-to-Ideals Relationships Under this heading we find community purpose and sense of purpose. In primitive society religion ferments the whole society. And certainly community goals, re-ligious ideals, can and should be important unifying fac-tors in a religious community. It is worthy of note here that in primitive ~ociety where the satisfying of the basic needs has such a prominent role, the upper echelons tend to have the same ideals as those of lower status, the .young as the old, the specialists as those engaged in community projects. When the eco-logical needs become less urgent and the man=to-man relationships more important, it becomes more difficult for all to have the same ideals. But the religious commun-ity should be able to realize this unity of ideals in a way that other communities in contemporary life cannot. In a religious community we-ness will tend to be established by living according to a unique set of ideals--provided the ideals are well defined. Our fellowship, as we will see later, is a unique fellowship in Godl For social vitality and solidarity, it is better to define ideals clearly and energetically and then, as the need arises, to modify them than not to define them at all or to define .them haphazardly or casually. Searching for Ibid., p. 270. 4" 4" CEoxm~misuensity VOLUME 21, 1962 309 4. 4. dloysius OM.Se.hCr,., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ideals has little social result. Without well-defined, known, and accepted objectives, ideals will be fashioned individually and in groups; this leads directly to com-munity segmentation. In this situation, the very factors which in a healthy social organization cause solidarity and vitality have the el~ect instead of segmenting the community. Ideals must and will be formed. If the proper formal grouping will not define them, it is inevitable that informal groupings will attempt to fill this lack. Community goals and ideals, however, cannot be al-lowed to stagnate. Once they have been defined, they must be re-defined as social changes and new needs make themselves felt. In this sense, it is only by innovation that society can maintain its health and well-being. For these reasons, our ideals require constant modification and elaboration to insure their continued adequacy for the very real and growing society which they both reflect and form. Furthermore, wise inter-group relationships constitutd community dynamisms and insure that the social structures of the community are truly alive and' changing--that the incarnations of the community ideals are true responses to the appeals of the era and the per~ sons, that the community continues to be constituted through history in its response to the Word, that its voca-tion continues to be authentic. It is in this context that tradition possesses real meaning. One group, which is n.aturally the most capable of really fruitful effort in this direction, is the meetings oE the various spiritual directors on a regional or inter-national basis. Undoubtedly much good could be ac-complished by regular and well-prepared meetings of these spiritual leaders in each order or congregation. Each meeting should consist oE a series of scholarly papers followed by serious discussion. Here again, we should point out the grave responsibit-ity of superiors. Upon their shoulders must rest a good portion of the burden of keeping goals alive and develop-ing with the community itself. But this responsibility can-not be placed solely upon the superiors. For a society to develop, all should participate in the re-discovery of old ideals and the formation of new. Community is a "we"; its responsibilities are no less communal than the end which they serve. If a religious suffers from abnormal loneliness, an anthropologist would immediately look for some need which is neither being fulfilled nor et~ectively substituted for. Where such a condition exists, the man is not livit~g a whole life; and attempting to live a half life tends to-wards increasing frustration. The only effective remedy in such a case, according to anthropologists, is the real-istic integration of our activities by directing them mean- ingfully towards the specific and ,well-defined goals of our community. Any notable incidence of real loneliness will probably reveal upon careful .investigation some rupture in the social structure of the whole community-- whether ecological, man-to-man, or man-to-ideals, More-, over, from the fact that our society is in 'itself artificial to a certain extent (lacking almost necessarily the deep and elemental bindings of an ecological involvement), we must be doubly aware of the other unifying forces within our community. Part H: Community and Personal Creativity ~ Patterns of social organization are vital, without the slightest doubt. Much. of our actual failure to realize deeply and meaningfully fellowship with one another in a brother-to-brother relationship stems from the neglect or mismanagement of the social structure of our com-munity. Yet the religious community---even considered only as a deep community of men--is not simply cre-ated by experts. The expert manipulates, controls, studies problems, and finds solutions; but his union with his tools and the particular determined purposes of his craft is extrinsic. We can think in" this connection of the over-organiza-tion of working communes as they sprang upsince the last world war. Here, everything is functionalized--all the activities are planned out, with time alloted on the schedule for religion, recreation, and so forth, which are considered as necessary means for overhauling the ma-chine periodically. When people begin to see their lives coincide with the routines planned for them, when they see themselves and their own importance diminish to the level of cogs in a machine, their spirits harden, atrophy, and wither. Life becomes less than free in the sense that activities are not flowing from the deepest levels of being. They become re.ore and more a number in a filing system. This is no doubt an extreme case. But we must reso-lutely resist the temptation to reduce man simply to an aggregate of psychic functions and forget that he is a living soul. In my relations with the men in my com-munity, I am involved. My actions should not tend to build a wall of separation between the me I know myself to be and others. Given the thorough system of social con-trols characteristic of religious life, given too a life that is frequently arranged by my superiors, the most common temptation is to avoid reaching out in true personal ap-peal to the other in all his unique personality, but to see both him and myself as [unctions--a teacher, student, cook, carpenter, Mass-sayer (a cog in a machi'ne can never pray), a procurator, or sflperior. The conclusion we have been working towards is this: ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 dloysius Meh~, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS community is not established by merely legislating laws, setting up a hierarchy of superiors.and subjects, or giving a dozen human beings a common residence. Nor can it be produced by a system' of techniques. Community must grow out of its members, for it is a highly personal gift of oneself to the other person in all the richness of his individuality. While techniques cannot produce community, they are nevertheless valuable in eliminating those things which could prevent community from happening; for example, enclosure within myself, being trapped, as it were, in a system of concentric circles which stand between me and my life. Furthermore, techniques are undoubtedly neces-sary for the effective accomplishment of particular, goals; for example, organizing a sports program requires some manipulating of people. But teamwork still remains a union based on something outside of the being of the other person;, while it may be a true degree of community, it is still not the fullness of human community, let alone: of fellowship in the word and love of God. "Community," Martin Buber .writes, '"is where com-munity happens.TM There is something in genuine meet-ing which extends beyond calculations, plans, and proj-ects. Just as my being is not definitely exhausted in any one particulai'ity of my life but overflows into promise and possibility,12 rooted in my existence and its destiny, so also the community is never definitely established, en-tirely a "given" factor, a.status; Community, the genuine union of beings, is created out of the depths of promise of my bei~ng. It is not pro-duced. Community is meeting; and that meeting which calls to the other from all that I am is essentially creative: something new happens, I become something that I was only potentially before, and in this connection I must think in terms of gilt or grace. I can remain open to re-ceive this gift of the other as long as I am not artificially isolated from my own being in a world of function; but somehow we are here in a realm in which the notions of cause and effect no longer apply with their full import--. I do not cause dialogue. Even more, in a very real sense, I am given to myself fully only in dialogue, in the gift of another self calling out to me, joining our lives in com-mon destiny and hope. "All real life :is meeting.''13 The energies of life become fully real only in community: [ am the possibility, even more, the promise of community in my most elemental reality as incarnate spirit. r~Between Man and Man, translated by Ronald Gregor Smith (Boston: Beacon, 1955), p. 31. '~ Marcel, Homo Viator, p. 26. ~ Martin Bub~r, I and Thou, translated by Ronald Gregor Smith (New York: Scribner's, 1958), p. 11. Hence community--and in a unique way, the religious community--fulfills a basic demand (exigence in French) of human being. The ability to say We, the possibility of genuine encounter presupposes beings who can love and give themselves to others, beings who are incarnati.ons of the spirit which man i~, a spirit embodied iia'spake.and time, in solidarity with the cosmos and the covenant of creation. The human spirit can be stifled for just so long--a time and a time and half a time of the Scrip-tures-- within the abstractions and reductions of a func-tionalized world which, we repeat, is a real danger in a religious community due to the artificiality and conven-tionalisms so easily developed in such a life. But in the well-chosen words of Gabriel Marcel, it seems, at least as far as man is concerned, tha~ even if life is weakened and in a way degraded, it must still retain a certain character of sacredness . We must accordingly realize, I think, that here we are faced with a~ certain absolute, and that this absolute must be assisted, however strong the temptation to resist it?' Man's spirit seeks the fullness of being, the fulfillment of its destiny.15 Even in the midst of degradation or open rebellion, the voice of his spirit calls out for authentic living. Rebellion is a call to another to answer my appeal, to respond, knowing that even if I fail, at least my call will go on being heard. Although many unfavorable things can be said about rebellion, yet we must admit that it is still authentic living. As Camus has written, "I rebel--therefore we are,''x~ In modern religious life, the danger is not primarily open rebellion. With us, frustration more frequently takes the place of rebellion. We begin with high ideals, but, after encountering many difficulties and meeting with many failures, it is easy for us to lose courage, to be-come despondent and frustrated. The principal cause of this frustration is the lack of understanding one's own abilities, strength, and weakness, Being frustrated, religious enclose themsdves within a shell of their own creation; they try to circumvent the full meaning of their vocation. Frustration is a flight from authentic living, and that is the reason why frus-trated religious try to escape and lose themselves in rou-tine or a ceaseless merry-go-round of activities. Here we see, or begin to see, the ontological.significance of frus-tration, despondency, and defense mechanisms--the psy- ~ The Mystery ol Being, translated by G. S. Fraser (Chicago: Regnery, 1950), v. 2, pp. 182-188. x~ Marcel, The Philosophy ol Existence, p. 4 a0Albert Camus, The Rebel, translated by Anthony Bower (New York: Vintage Books, 1959), p. 22. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 Aloydm 0M.$eh.~r., REV~EWFOR RELIG;OUS chological and sociological ruptures which prevent com-munity from happening. It is in this context that we propose to re-investigate the three relationships already viewed on the anthro-pological level: my relationship to things, to other peo-ple, and to ideals. Creative Community and Things 1. Art. In our mechanized world, things are considered more and' more as means, even pure means (bona utilia), apart from myself, only accidentally and, ontologically speaking, haphazz'rdly coming into contact with me. Their own values are, for me, simply utilitarian. I fail to see in them the mystery of creation in which I also am essentially involved. Art, beauty--these are simply esoteric tinsel, luxuries for the functional man. In a way this man is only half a man, and hence only half himself, begrudging those energies of life with which his created and corporeal being is essentially in communion.,x7 It would be almost meaningless to tell such a man that his activities are incarnations of his being, for he has denied any essential involvement in this universe of space and time.xs When I live out of harmony with myself and the deep community of creation in which I am, which 'is my world, my environment, my ontological context, how can I truly give myself to another? Furthermore, how can a com-munity that is out of harmony with creation be worthy of being presented to Yahweh in the Eucharistic assembly as the sign of His pleroma? The famous American painter, Ben Shahn, writes: I have always believed that the character of a society is largely shaped and unified by its great creative works, that a society is molded upon its epics, and that it imagines in terms of its cre-' ated things--its cathedrals, its works of art, its musical treas-ures, its literary and philosophic works. One might say that a public may be so unified because the highly personal experi-ence (of the artist) is held in common by the many individual members of the public. The great moment at which Oedipus in his remorse tears out his eyes is a private moment--one of deepest inward emotion. And yet that emotion, produced by art, and many other such private and profound emotions, ex-periences, and images bound together the Greek people into a great civilization, and bound others all .over the earth to them for all time to come.1D Art brings into play the unifying forces of creation but' at a deeper, more subjective, and thoroughly personal~ a~ Von Balthasar, Science, Religion, and Christianity, p. 45. a~Bernard Haring, C.SS.R., The Law o] Christ, translated by Edwin G. Kaiser, C.PP.S, (Westminster: Newman, 1961), v. 1, p. 87. ag Ben Shahn, Shape o] Content (New York: Vintage Books, 1960), pp. 45-46. level. Lacking a developed and fully shared ecological sys-tem, the religious-community unity depends on other re-lations to our world, activities of creativeness, ingenuity, activities which produce "results," or better, activities in which my being sees fruition in the corporeal world in which I am. The point is that we should not i~eglect the unifying force of art, the union of persons in the beauti-ful, in the shared experience of meaningful incarnation. But the attitude of encounter with the beautiful is not limited to what we call the fine arts. If I pick up a chisel, it is simply a tool which I use to perform some task. Con-sider, however, the difference when a highly skilled artist or carpenter picks up a chisel. His work expresses him-self, gives himself to the community. Here we return to the general theme of these 'pages: df community is to happ.en, I must give mysel[, and not simply offer the other some service which I perform. In art--from garden-ing to the liturgical setting--I give myself, I entrust to the community that deep and personal experience of creativ-ity. In accepting another's art, we "welcome" him. To welcome is active, personal, embracing. I go out of my-self to meet the other, to invite him to feel at home with me. We cannot merely accept the other's art, whatever it may be, as we accept the result of an assembly line. To accept his art, I must reach out and take his work into my own life; and by doing so I take him, too, into my life. And here again we glimpse a moment when com-munity happens. If a community does not accept the beautiful, it neglects an important binding force--a neglect which will tend to re-appear in personal encounters. Without the proper at-titude toward art, even the deep significance of liturgical symbolism and expression will lose some of the vitality which it was meant to have. The community chapel, above all, should be a masterpiece of art, expressing community, proclaiming the fellowship in God which we are. 2. Play. Finally, we should consider more deeply the meaning of play. Perhaps play is not the deepest of the arts, but it is a true creative expression of man.2° Play is of its nature public. "Through play we find ourselves no longer imprisoned and isolated in our own individual-ity.'' 21 Play "is act in its spontaneity, acting in its very activity, the living impulse.''~ As a vital phenomenon or manifestation of human being, play--to be genuine-- demands a man in contact with reality; "only the vital Eugene Fink, "The Ontology of Pla}'," Philosophy Today, v. 4 (1960), pp. 95-109. Ibid., p. 96. Ibid., p. 97. ÷ + ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 315 4. 4" 4- A~oysius Meh~, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS being., can die, work, struggle, love, and play. Only such a being is in touch With surrounding reality and the total environment--the world.''u3 Humanplay . is a creation through the medium of pleasure of a world of imaginary acuv~ty . Play ~s always character, ized by an element of representation (something like the real world and its rules, but never degrading into routine). This element determines its meaning. It then effects a transfigura-tion: life becomes peaceful.~' In our own world, play is apt to be a highly organized, commercial project; and here again its mea'ning tends to become more and more functionalized---I play, not for delight, but in order to preserve physical and psychic health. If we would look for a moment at the primitive world, we would find far more significant contours: In the primitive times, play was not practiced so much as an act in its pleasure-giving aspect as is the case for those isolated individuals or groups who periodically detach themselves from the social group to inhabit their own little isle of passing hap-piness. Originally, play was the strongest unifying force. It founded a community quite different, it is true, from that of the living and the dead, the governing and the governed, and even from that based on the family. The community of play of primitive man included all the forms and structures of com-mon life., and it called forth a reliving of all the elements of life. This reached its high point in the community festival. The ancient feast., was a liturgical spectacle where man ex-perienced the proximity of the gods, heroes, the dead, and where he found himself in the presence of all the beneficent and dreadful powers of the universe . What was represented was nothing less than the whole universe.= Genuine play is extremely important in a religiou:; community. We will develop this point further in Part III where we will see that community recreation should serve as a catechesis of the proper celeb'ration of the~ Eucharistic festival--the Mass. Inter-personal Creativity: Intersub]ectivity Community exercises are significant only in as far as they involve an encounier with the Thou. This is the point, above all others, which we must remember. This is the heart of the matter. Divorced from all genuine en-counter with the Thou, community exercises are mean-ingless. In our very proximity, it is easy for me--because of routine, fatigue, and so forth---to consider my confrere less and less as a person (a Thou) and more and more ;ts an object (an It). An object is contained within itself, something which I can possess and manipulate. A person Ibid. Ibid., pp. 104-105. Ibid., pp. 105-106. is a being to whom I can call out, whom I can invoke, who is able to return my call, and in our response to each other create community. I can say "We." But to approach the other in his own unique being and destiny, in all that makes him himself, I myself must be a presence to him. Self-consciousness atrophies,, encloses me in .myself; we may be with one another physically and temporarily, but we have not yet realized Mitsein, that full union in love and welcome where deep calls out to deep. Without doubt, our lives and our encounters with one another tend to form stereotyped patterns. In accordance with our rule and constitutions,~l meet others at certain determined places and at set times. We are joined to-gether for specific purposes: prayer, recreation, work, in short, every conceivable type of community exercise. In a way there is constant community. I am very little in real solitude whether before God or before men. The students whom I teach in the classroom, the community for whom I cook or for whom I build cabinets, the confreres with whom I watch television--these are certainly beings with whom I exist; and even though I cannot speak of the re-ligious life as being entirely or ~even properly speaking functionalized, yet frequently there is something in the other which I am neglecting. P~r~haps 1 am polite and courteous: I smile at the other and laugh at his jokes; I try to understand his problems and offer him sympathy-- and still; perhaps, we stand more in juxtaposition than in community. But there are moments when this half-face to the 'world breaks down, hours of.grace (kairos.in St. John) in which the possibility of far deeper community is suddenly revealed. It is then that we see individuals in an entirely new perspective and their presence becomes more mean-ingful to us. A time of community crisis can draw us to-gether in this way, and we learn to depend on a confrere as he is, and not just in what he does---or better, what he does incarnates what he is. The world from which our candidates come has been well described as a broken world.20 This factor must be kept in mind while considering, the present-day prob-lems of religigus life. Older forms of unity have been gradually breaking down--the family, for instance, has been to a great extent replaced by the peer group, the gang, the more casual associations. Political and techno-logical unions have become strong~ r, suggesting a growth 'in world unity. But frequently, ~he new unions which have sprung up are on the impersonal plane; technol-ogy, for. example, unites the worlO" because cultural dif- ~ Marcel, The Mystery o! Being, v. 1; pp. 22-47. The title used for this chapter is "A Broken World." ~ 4. 4. 4. Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 317 + Aloysius Mehr, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 318 ferences do not prevent a person from working a machine; in principle any one at all can learn this operation. But "any one at all," l'on,.das Man, does not exist. What exists are real people, individual, free beings, irreplace-able in the solitude of their liberty. In those moments of human existence in which I some-how transcend the world of mechanisms, I sense another dimension which I know to be more basic, and more real. I sense that there is something in myself and in the self of the other which is immanently private and which does not lend itself to concepts or superficial unifying or binding forces; this is unique subjectivity, the deepest level of per-sonal existence, that which constitutes me as I, the irreduc-ible core of personality, the shrine of what is most serious and authentic in me, the theatre of my eternal commit-ments. It is this dimension of mystery which constitutes the great distinction between persons themselves. Regardless of how close two persons may unite with one another, something of the other's.subjectivity will always evade the other: he may become a Thou for me, we may even speak with full force and meaning the word "We," but the other is always profoundly other than me. The We is precisely for this reason a miracle or the grace that it is. We can never be like two drops of water coming together to form a single drop. I may give myself deeply in love and hope to another, but he will always remain absent from me in some way and this hbsen~e is what makes him uniquely himself. But it is of the essence to note that the other is dis-closed to me in his full contingency only in those situ-ations in which we are genuinely open to one another. I can hardly speak of the mystery of subjectivity--the revelation of the other--without speaking of the mystery of intersubjectivity--the mutual revelation of both ofu~, which includes the gift of the other person to me. Here; we can speak more justly and fully of presence: presencel reveals a human dimension beyond that of proximity or even of sharing an experience, and this is the dimension of full encounter, coesse, of co-presence.~7 Presence is in its deepest reality co-presence. The structure of this situation is one of appeal and response. To meet another', I must call out to him, or welcome his appeal to myself by responding with my whole being, and not simply with a stereotyped, pre-determined response. When I speak to another, the area of mutual concern may be a purely business proposition; but if I welcome him into my life, if there springs up deep sympathy in the basic meaning of that word, we Roger Troisfontaines, S.J., De L'Existence a l'Elre (Louvain: E. Nauwelaerts, 1953), v. 2, p. 21. are to another something more than a billboard which announces the time of a community exercise or an IBM machine that reels off information. The question he asks me implies his faith in my ability to answer--my ability to stand, as it were, in his place and understand his question "from the inside.''2s" ~'The question, anyway, operates as an appeal, a signal that may or may not be received.''29 The appeal reaches me in my freedom. I may respond by being, for all practical purposes, some sort of information machine; yet in t~he course of our conver-sation, he becomes something more than a "somebody." "That is, he participates more a~d more in the absolute which is unrelatedness and we cease more and more to be 'somebody' and 'somebody e!se.' We become simply 'US.' "30 This is not merely a psychol~gical interpretation of emotional experience, for realistically speaking, "I cannot really invoke 'anybody'; I can only 'pretend~ to do so. In other words, it appears as if inv'ocation can only be ef-ficacious where there is communiiy.''al Truly, I can speak the word Thou to another only Where community is re-vealed, and we speak the word We.m This deep dimension of human reality reveals me to m~self; in my.deepest and freest being, I find the mystery Of intersubjectivity, the mystery of our solidarity in the destinies of the human phenomenon and the covenant of'creation. Although the sharpest mani[esthtion of this ontological community of men tends to be the somewhat dramatic events--birth, death, love, and go forth--which break in on our course of existence?3 still intersubjectivity runs in a scale from, for example, the chance smile of a stranger from whom I happened to ask directions in a city I am not familiar with to the union with one another in Ghrist in the Eucharistic assembly. Thi(. is important for com-munity life; by holding myself open to the other, by mak-ing myself available, by my. willingness to welcome him, entirely mechanical situations like asking a routine per-mission from my superior can be illuminated with a bit of the radiance of the truly significant. The deepest moments of intersubjectivity can act perhaps as beacons, reflecting that, unit most clearly and fully. As I enter the religious liie and make my pro-fession, the community kiss of peace manifests beautifully the community which has been created in me. This mo- ~ Gabriel Marcel, Metaphysical Journal, translated by Bernard Wall (London: Rockliff, 1952), p. 21. "Ibid., p. 143. ~ ~a I bIbidid.,, pp. 114761. ~ Ibid., p. 303. a Marcel, The Philosophy o] Existence, pp. 3-4. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 319 4. Aioysius Mehr, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ment, though past, can be kept alive, can remain a presence to me--a moment of deep community to which I bear witness in the day-to-day encounters. I know, deeply within myself, that these encounters, for all their routine, flow forth from the community which we are, the com-munity which must be ever renewed through the passing years in creative fidelity to the situations in which. I am given to myself as one whose life, in the religious com-munity, is a being-with. From this point of view, we can look more closely at the full meaning of the opportunities of our religious com-munity: The closeness in which we live with one another is dangerous if reduced to the level of the functional, but it can just as truly point out to us the heights and depths of intersubjectivity. Social bindings open out into onto-logical community. Religious community life is rooted in social organizations and patterns, but it exists on the level of the human person in his freedom. In conclusion, the activities of our religious life must reflect the deep fact of our community-being, of our being-with one another, sharing a common destiny, united in the bonds of true love in Christ, For the structure of intersubjectivity is in its fullness, the structure of love. But we must be willing to see the levels and the manifestatiom of this love dim from time to time, just as in marriage the union in love has its ups and downs. Nevertheless, I must be aware of my deep responsibility to make my-self what Louis Lavelle calls "accessible" and Gabriel Marcel "disponible" or "availabie" to the other. Marcel equates this accessibility with charity, and quite rightly so.34 This is the fundamental posture or attitude for any fruitful communication between men, a communication which means opening myself to the presence and in-fluence of the other, desiring this presence, and being will-ing to go out into something that is quite different from myself. The self-centered egoist finds it impossible to be accessible and available. He is incapable of sympathiz~ ing with other people or imagining their situation. "He remains shut up in himself, in the petty circle of his private experience, which forms a kind of hard shell round him that he is incapable of breaking through.''3G Handy rules for making encounter possible, while help-ful, cannot be used without the danger of taking up a position outside the encounter itself in order to manipulate both the other and myself.3e I can perhaps ~' Ibid., p. 15. ~ Marcel, The Mystery o/Being, v. 10 p. 201. a Dale Carnegie gives.many of these handy rules in his famous book How to Win Friends and Influence.People (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1936). The value of some of these rules is questionable because of their pharisaical tendencies. be more aware of what I cannot do--in summary, tO treat him as an object, as a somebody, as anyone at all, as a function (whether teacher., farpenter, or any o[ the categories that can substitute for the person). In dis-agreements, I must respect the gift, for the other gives himself to me in his ideas and intdrpretations; in com- ¯ munity we can seek not a Procru~stean compromise but a kind of common expectation so that together we can go on seeking the light of truth. Th~ very things which tear us apart from one another~differences in age, in taste, in talent, in personal history-~zan unite us, not in a collectivity where differences are ignored or frowned upon, but in a community of mu[ual understanding. Creativity and Community Ideals High ideals attract men; the. higher the ideals the greater the attraction. Ideals fire, men with enthusiasm. But ideals cannot be handed physically to me as, for in-stance, a book or the constitutions.' Ideals can be described on paper, but they cannot exist oh paper. They are real-ized only in free creativity at the ~ery depths of being. More particularly, the ideals of. a gommunity must be ideaIs for particular men. They must be possible of fulfill-ment in their unique life and in the unique situation which invites their loyalty andS,, faithfulness to them. Every religious must create, again and again, the tra, di-tions and ideals of his order or congregation .by incarnat-ing them anew in his own life. The passage of ideals to incarnate human life, to act and incarnation in space and time is truly creative, for it ~nvolves a full and personal gift of myself creating meaning. Bu~t this does not happen in a void, but rather in an encounter, or 'a revelation of what I am (in the community that we are) that calls forth my witness and fidelity. An e, ncounter means a call and a response; a gift and a pre~ence of another who confronts me in my uniqueness; a re'alization of the destiny which lies at the heart o[ myselL "In action," writes Teilhard, "I cleave to the creatlve~ power of God; I co-incide with it; I become not only its instrument but its living prolongation.''~7 In the words of Gabriel Marcel: We have to realize that there are modes o[ creation which do not belong to the aesthetic order, and which are within the reach of everybody and it is in so far as he is a creator, at how-ever humble a level, that any man at all can recognize his own freedom.~ In our context, this means that in my freedom I must ~ Teilhard de Chardm, The D:vtne Md~eu, pp. 26-27. m Gabriel Marcel, Man Against Mass Society, translated by G. Fraser (Chicago: Regnery, 1952), p. 16. 4. 4. 4. Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 4. 4. 4. Alo~$ius OM~e.Ch~r., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS respond to the unique religious vocation, which I have received from God, and that response is the truly creative assumption of the ideals, traditions, customs, and rules of my community. If I am to be a religious, and not merely act like one, I must enter into the living tradition of my community, see clearly the deep relationship be-tween law and reality (law in its deepest meaning in Christianity is the living out of our incorporation in Christ), and sense within myself the dynamism within the community, the promise of the future held in the hands of the present moment, the hour of trlal and grace. By translating the traditional ideals of my particular community into my life, I reach back into the very an. rials of history and, at the same time, proclaim that which is yet to come. I enter into living communion with the past and the future, with all who have professed, or will in the future profess, these ideals. Ideals seen in their' existent,_'al fullness are moments of consecration, joininl~ us with the ever-continuing history of our community. As Hiiring points out, History is to be viewed from the standpoint of the "now" in relation to beginning and end. The historic present reaches out into past and future. The past has its heritage which may be compared to the warp and woof of a rich fabric constantly redesigned into marvelously new and alluring shapes and formsi The treasure.is a summons or invitation, and a challenge as well, to the free will of man in the historic moment of the present.~ My response to this challenge wiaps up the rich her-itage of my order in the dynamism of my unique, per-sonal life, and.hands it as a sacred trust to the community, enriched, for future generations. By thus entering deeply into the We, and sharing together, feeling together in our deepest being the subtle movements and aspirations which translate possibility into act and thus tradition into life, and being into incarnations, I realize existentially arid not only notionally or rationally both the being which I am called to be and the significance of the union of men who have joined their own destinies together in respond-ing to the same ~hallenge. But just as we cannot understand man until we see his marvelous destiny, so we cannot begin to see the beauty and mystery of our community until we view it in its promise, in its dynamic growth and activity towards fullness. The religious community, as we pointed out in the introductory pages of this paper, exists within two wider communities--the community of life and t'J~e community of grace--from which it draws its own vital- The Law o] Christ, v. 1, p. 87. ity and life-thrust. In either Community, our destiny is not encompassed by the immediate projects, particular ends, or temporary goals. Our being plunges back into the dynamisms of created being itself; and in us the world achieves a certain completion of its own dest!ny. We are then a kind of particular and contingent, though nonetheless real, summation or symbol or eikon, image, of the community of all being. But the deepest values of our activity do not only capitulate in us the mystery of creation and the dy-namisms of life. As Teilhard would phrase it, ontogenesis has passed on into Christogenesis. Creation has been caught up, in its deepest dynamisms, into the new cre-ation, which is fulfillment, not destruction (Eph 2:15). As a community within the Church, and indeed its true eihon, its incarnation, we continue the forces of creation through the Incarnation and the New Adam into the promise and pledge of the Parousia (1 Cor 15:24). In this perspective, or better in this divine milieu, lies the true significance of our activities; we are bound together under a common cause which is as wide and deep as the community of men and as transcendent in its promise as the parousial presence in which life and temporality shall be consummated in the supreme en-counter of love. Seen in this light, we must modify our earlier thesi~ about the artificiality of the religious community. Adapt-ing Teilhard's terminology and the vision of St. Paul, we can rightly say that the religious community is an anticipation of a later and final stage of evolution, the unity of all men in Christ, the Omega point of historical being. This higher unity of mankind, which we an-ticipate, involves a center of gravity, a focal point, an axis above and beyond the ecological and physical. And what is this axis of religious community life? It is charity. The religious community must be founded on love of God and neighbor. This new level of mankind, as any leap in evolution, involves a definitive departure, a break from the lower stages even though it is their continuation, ful-fillment, and transformation.4° And yet, as an anticipation we are beginning to create the new within the old; this combination of the old and the new must involve sacrifice and tension--the death of the type as we pass into the era of the antitype, the dis-sipation of shadow as we strive to realize the light. There is tension and strain. Creation groans and is "in the pangs of childbirth" (Rom 8:22). Life is born through death. In our very community, creation is being re-capitulated in Christ. Christ is being born! The Divine Milieu, p. 86. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Exegcises VOLUME 21, 1962 323 dloysius Mehr, 0~.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Part HI: Community in the Word The deepest significance of religious community exer-cises is not found in mere human encou.nter, but in the encounter with men in God. Religious life .is a charism, a localized outpouring of the Spirit of God, who fills the whole .Church, in such an intense and concentrated way as to bear witness to a particular reality which in varying degrees permeates the whole Church. Keligious life is not radically different from Christian life; rather it is the living image, the eikon, the type and inauguration of perfect Christian life. The perfection to which all Christians are called and in which all shall share when the Day of the Lord dawns is incarnately realized in the Church today by the religious life, which can be called the "sacrament" of Christian perfection. The flourishing of religious life in the Church stands an apocalyptical pledge that the things to come will truly come because they have already been realized living type; religious life bears encouraging witness to each generation of Christians that the life of the Gospel can truly be lived to the full now, into the fullness that is to come. Such a witness can only be the fruit of the Spirit outpoured in charismatic plenitude. Once the religious life is seen as charismatic, its sacra-mental and ecclesiological dimensions become apparent and important. Since the religious life is the image of perfect Christian life, the basic structure of religious life must be seen in relation to the strhctural pattern of the Church's life. The possible points of reference here are numerous; we will limit the discussion to two features of Christian life which seem to be most fundamental. First, the Church is a community formed by the word of God. Secondly, the Church is a community of sacramental worship. Community in Covenant The Church of the New Testament, seen in the con-tinuity of sacred history as recorded in the. Scriptures, is the fulfillment of that people of God which was in continual formation down through Old Testament times by the gradually unfolding revelation of the Word of God. After the fall, God's Word appears on the human scene as a call; God called Abraham to leave his people and his father's house for a land of promise in which his descendants would multiply until they became as numer-ous as the sands of the sea (Gen 12:1). When Abraham responded to the initial promptings of God's Word, God spoke again to Abraham to make a covenant with him for a mutual sharing of destiny down through Abraham's posterity, which would come into being as a result of God's Covenant-Word. Abraham's family came into being as the family of God (Gen 15). As the history of the family of God folds back upon it-self, the same pattern emerges in the formation of the Israelite people from the family of Abraham. The Israel-ites were called out of Egypt to hear the Word of God proclaimed on Mount Sinai'(Ex 3:16--17). Another cov-enant resulted from this new proclamation, a covenant which was again creative of the community with whom it was made (Ex 24:8). The Israelites became a spiritual community in becoming the people of God in the Mosaic covefiant. The pattern recurs again as each successive wave of revelation leaves in its wake a fuller, more spiritualized community to whom God's Word is addressed as a call and a covenant. There can be no doubt from the annals of sacred history that when God speaks to man He speaks to man in community. In the dialogue between God and man, God is the I who speaks the creative Thou to the community. In the light of the fall of Adam, this dialogue appears as a healing dialogue. The community of the'human race disintegrated in sin. It appears to be God's plan to build it back up again meticulously in time, .through the gradual revelation of his creative Word in a gradually more perfect community, until these last times in which He speaks to us by a Son (Heb 1:2). He is the perfect Word uttered in the community which in the new Adam already exists but which is still being perfegted. (created) and realized (actualized) in all the members of the new human race by the continued call and proclamation of the new covenant in every life and time. In the realm of salvation, man does not walk alone and he is not free to do whatever he chooses. He is saved in community by the healing Word of God which is spoken to and in the community which it itself creates. The inner structure and dynamism of the Church is to be and to become this community of the Word of God. Let us now look more closely into the religious life in terms of what has already been said. If the religious life is to be the type and the eschatalogical pledge of the life of the Church, it ought to be the flesh-and-blood realiza-tion par excellence of the community of the Word of God. It is here that the progress of sacred history toward the fulfillment of God's plan of perfect community ought to be moving forward to the last day when the perfect community of the cosmos will be reheaded in Christ and God will be all in all (I Cor 15:28). The implications of this reach deeply into the basic attitudes incarnate in the concrete circumstances of re- Eoxme~mc~uen$lty VOLUME 21, 1962 325 Alo~situ Mehr, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ligious life. If the religious community is to be at all, the breath--the spirit-~of. God's Word must be free to move through and in us. Through baptism and confirmation we received the Spirit unto the building up of the com-munity to the full stature of Christ.4x The religious com-munity must be the community of the Word of God, true to the pattern of sacred history outlined above: call, proclamation of the Word, covenant. 1. (Tall. We are accustomed to the idea of a vocation to the religious life. We must draw this out to its concrete conclusions. First, when God calls man He calls him to community. A vocation to the religious life .is a call to community. Secondly, when God calls man to a religious community, He calls him to be initiated into a particular religious community. This means that the candidate must undergo a true initiation into the concrete life of that community and that he must successfully complete the initiation: he has to prove himself ready and able to renounce anything and everything which stands between him and the ideals of his vocation, to accept deeply in his incarnate being the two-edged sword of the Spirit. The religious pre-novitiate and novitiate training ought to be for the religious community what the catechu-menate was for the primitive Church. It ought to test the authenticity of the call. The community, but also the candidate, must ask the question: Is the Word of God truly at work here? God speaks toman in human language, not in weight-less abstractions. Hence the family background of the candidate must be looked into to see if God's Word came to him through parents genuinely in touch with God by their lives of faith. I[ the indications here are strongly negative, the.stronger influence of less natural channels of God's Word must be evident. Because of the psychology involved in such a situation, the candidate's response to this call must be tested for its supernatural authenticity by a convergence of other factors indicating the working and direction of Providence with adverse circumstances. The following questions must be answered: first, hits the candidate attained at least the minimum strength of character, mental health, and social ability required for successful community life; for the monastery or convent cannot function as a rehabilitation center without in-justice to its other members. Secondly, does the candidate at least show promising signs of being able to respond to maturing influences that will be able to help him to ~ Eph 4:13; see La Saihte Bible de Jerusalem (Paris: Cerf, 1956), p. 1546, note n: "Non pas simplement le chrfitien arriv~ h l'~tat de 'parfait,' mais l'Homme parfait en un sens collectif: soit le Christ lui-m~me., soit mieux encore le Christ total, T~.te. et mere- grow to a greater measure of personal authenticity? If the latter is the case, one must investigate whether or not these maturing influences so much needed are actually present in the community which the candidate wishes to join and whether they will be accessible to him. ~This is only another way of asking whether this person,~who does seem to be called by God, is being called to thig particular community. 2. Proclamation. This has led us to our next point. The community has been called together to hear the Word of God; hence that Word must be. authentically proclaimed in the community. In the Church there are official proclaimers, messengers (kerukes), for this task: the priestly hierarchy. In the religious community, this responsibility rests primarily with the superiors. They must be men of God's Word. The Bible must be familiar ground to them. They ought to be able to breathe the Scriptures. God's Word cannot be spoken with authority except by men who themselves hear the Word of God and keep it. St. Paul's timely words to Timothy, the head of the Ephesus community, point out this obligation: Attend to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching., to teaching. Do not neglect the gift you have, which was g~ven you by prbphetic utterance when the elders laid their hands upon you. Practice these duties, devote yourself to them, so that all may see your progress. Take heed to yourself and your teaching; hold to that, for by so doing you will save both your-self and your hearers (1 Tim 4:15--16; see also Col 3:16). The central time and place for the proclamation of God's Word to the community is the liturgy. Everything within the range of possibility should be done to make this proclamation authentic. The laws of liturgical psy-chology must be understood and incorporated into actual liturgical practice. Also it should be understood that proclaiming God's Word in the liturgy is not confined to the scriptural readings but extends to the homily or sermon delivered in the assembly. It is a mistake to think that because religious do a great deal of spiritual reading they do not need to hear sermons. Faith comes from hearing (Rom 10:17). The Scriptures must be au-thoritatively interpreted in relation to concrete con-temporary events. Here the jurisdictional power of su-periors can be seen to be more than a matter of legality. Theirs is the charism to preach authoritatively and to recognize the authentic prophetic spirit in those whom they delegate to preach. In general, there ought to be within the community a real atmosphere of reverence to the Bible. This is mani-fested, for instance, in the handling of the sacred books. Dilapidated Missals ought not be found on the altar. Out-side of the liturgical assembly, the Missal should not be ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 AIoysi~s Mehr, O&C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS carelessly thrown in the corner of the sacristry but re-served in a place of honor, like the Blessed Sacrament and the Holy Oils. The same can be said for the Bible used for community reading during the meal, and to a lesser extent for the copy of the Bible kept by individuals in their rooms. Private Bible reading ought to be en. couraged within the spiritual reading program; but this entails some instruction in how to read the Bible, es-pecially for those who do not have the benefit of an in-tensive Scripture course. All these things are only ex. amples, but they indicate a direction .of attitude which must be fostered if the seed of God's Word is to find good ground to grow into a community. 3. Covenant. The proclamation of the Word of God in the community climaxes in covenant, an intimate I. Thou relationship of God with the community. Itshall be a continual burnt offering throughout your genera-tions at the door of the tent of meeting before the Lord; where I will meet with you, to speak there with you . And I will dwell among the people of Israeli and will be their God. And they shall know that I am the Lord their God, who brought them lorth out o] the land oI Egypt that I might dwell among them: I am the Lord their God (Ex 29:42-46). The intimacy of the covenant is best expressed in the Scriptures by the idea of a sacred meal with God at the time of the covenant. "Then Moses and Aaron and Nadab, and Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel went up and they saw the God of Israel . they beheld God and ate and drank" (Ex 24:9-11). The sacred meal will be discussed later. What is of moment here is that God addresses the community as Thou. He covenants with the community. He shares the destiny of the community, and in this way alone does the community become God's people, heir to the promises. "I will be your God and you will be my people" (Jet 32:38)~ The community has in fact been established by the progressive call of God through both Testaments. Or, to put it more critically, the concrete possibility has been established for the authentically Christian community to become to be, to grow in creative fidelity into being fully what it already is in the reality of infallible promise. Nor is the creative, call merely the point of origin; the call is repeated through and in the community of the Church to each generation for the divinization of every era. We are in fact inserted into this order of the Spirit; and by this very reality bear the serious responsibility of. hastening the Parousia (2 Pet 3:12) by a total effort to build community, to respond to the creative call ad- dressed to us, to assure that there will be in us a Thou for the moment when God speaks his "I." There must be real communion of persons who have an authentic, conscious, un-egocentric participation in the human nature and creatureliness they share in their com-mon flesh from the loins of Adam. There must be com-munity in which Christ is progressively becoming in-carnated and given being-in-the-world, caught up, as it were, by the Spirit and created time and time again in authentic response (possible only in community) to the liturgical Word. proclaimed now, as in times past, in liturgical community. Then the great Passover of Jesus from the Cross into the glory of His Resurrection~ Ascen-sion, and Enthronement can take root- in the world and create from our community authentic and supernatural Christian community, the Body of the Lord. For a man to enter the We :of the community, certain things must happen to him. For one thing~ he must have experienced encounter with other persons in the com-munity. This occurs on various interpenetrating levels. On the sacramental level, the encounter begins with his initiation into the Church through baptism and confirma-tion which are an encounter with the concrete Church community. In the religious life a further sacramental encounter is the act of religious profession. Think of the handclasp, the Amen of the community, and the kiss of peace. , Through baptism, confirmation, and profession, the religious has already met the members ofthe community on the sacramental level, the. authenticity of which meet-ing will depend on the authenticity of the ritual. This also means that he is ontologically structured for and pledged to this encounter in all its dimensions. Other levels of encounter which are basic to the we experience are the father-son relationship between su-perior and subject, the brother relationship between con-freres, the teacher-student relationship, and the more in-timate encounter of true religious friendship. A parish community is as strong as the basic I-Thou relationship between the husband and wife in the families of the pa.rish, since marriage is the effective sign of the Church. similarly a promotion of genuine I-Thou relationships within the community builds up the great We of the I. Thou relationship with God, as the.se experiences open the personalities of the religious to that common human nature and creatureliness which would otherwise be hoarded up individualistically by each selbcenter. The human nature and creatureliness which we share is a concrete human nature and creatureliness incarnate in the human beings around us, and it is there where it must ÷ Community VOLUME 21, 1962 32g ÷ ÷ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS be met. Here we have the sensible, real basis, the sign, of the Body of Christ which is realized in sacrament. Another experience which conditions for and builds up the great We is the common sharing of a rich ex-perience, a going through something together, a com-mon passover. God made his covenant with Israel after the Exodus experience, after the people had passed through the Red Sea together. This experience involves the elements of crisis, judgment, and victorious issue. Once again, on the sacramental level, this is accomplished through the catechumenate and initiation sacraments of baptism and confirmation in which the candidate shares the Christian community's experience of the Exodus, of the Passover from the Egypt of sin through the Red Sea of baptism to the new life of the people of God. In the religious life a further sacramental or ritual sharing of crisis-victory is embodied in profession, the passover into the state of perfection. But this sacramental ontology of community on the basis of shared experience becomes incarnate in and is the fulfillment of numerous experiences undergone on other levels of life. Religious life can provide many ex-cellent experiences of solidarity through crises and vic-tories. As examples can be mentioned: working out phil-osophical and theological problems; a difficult community project such as the continued and successful support of a mission; a common experience of joy such as might be expected at ordinations and professions; the death of a member of the community; in short, any event which deeply affects the community. This solidarity in experience is not limited to events. What may be more important is the common experience of the presence of great persons. Just as the Israelite community was somehow bound up in the persons of Moses, Josue, and Aaron, and just as the Church is bound up in the persons of Christ, the Apostles, and the Virgin Mary, so the religious community is bound up in the per-sons of its superiors and leading figures. The superior must be a deep, spiritually mature person who is in personal contact with his community so that the members of the community actually have a chance to experience him and feel a solidarity in this experience. As fdr the other leading figures in the community, the more deep personalities God has given to a community, so much richer will that community life be as the solidarity in this experience broadens the horizons of the com-munlty. It is a corruption of a precious gift for a com-munity to consider its outstanding members as divisive forces or to make them feel like isolated individualists. Sharing the experience of encounter with a great man is one of the strongest bonds of unity there is between man and man. We have discussed some factors in the formation of the community We which becomes the Thou whom God addresses in his covenant dialogue. There is one other element of covenant that should be mentioned, and it is the sharing of destiny. God becomes involved in the community's destiny and the community is caught up into God's great mystery of salvation, the secret hidden from the ages and revealed fully in his Son, the movement of salvation history (Col 1:26-27). There is a movement toward fulfillment, toward Pleroma. Christ has already been established as the Head of new order in heaven, but his Body is still undergoing construction upon earth. The completion of Christ's Body is being realized little by little. It is a steady growth until the full measure of the perfect Man is attained. This fullness, Pleroma, means that in Christ harmony has been established among all things, that the universe is "filled b~ the creative presence of God."42 When this day shall arrive, the Church will contain Christ in his fullness. The Church will reach the stature of the perfect man (Eph 1:23), The movement .of salvation history, however, is not inevitable. God is faithful and will accomplish His pur-pose, but His people do not always respond with like fidelity, and He will not use force. If the Day of the Lord is to come, it is the Christian community, we, who must hasten it (2 Pet 3:12), we who must move ahead; and we are free to contribute to this forward movement or to hold it it check. If we should choose the latter, we would become like the Thessalonians who sat around and waited for the Parousia and who were upbraided for their pre-sumption (2 Th). The religious community ought to be an advance guard unit in this forward march, for it is by definition a place of perfection and fulfillment. This again points up the necessity for the proclamation of the Word of God in the community. The history of salvation is contained in the Scriptures. God's plan is there, and only those who are familiar with its patterns are capable of reliable frontier work on the boundaries of sacred history. Ful-fillment does not mean reckless lunging out in any direc-tion. Yet neither i~ it all mapped out in detail. Here the living tradition of the Scriptures assumes its rightful im-portance. The leaders of the community must be men who walk in the way of the Lord and meditate on His law. If we may say so, they must have a scriptural instinct, a Pierre Benoit, O.P., "Corps, t~te et pl~r6me darts les Rpitres de lacaptivit~," Revue Biblique, v. 63 (1956), pp. 5-44. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community VOLUME 21, 1962 .331 ÷ Aloysius OM.Se.hCr., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS a feel for the way God does things, and a contact with the currents of life in the Church. They must be attentive to the voice of higher authority and at the same time be aware of the prophetic movements within their own com-munity. They literally have to know which way the Wind --the Holy Spirit--is blowing. Community in Worship At this point lines of thought begin to converge: the Word of God, community, covenant, sacred history; and their point of convergence is worship. We may say that the community called into being by the Word of God in the context of sacred history through the intimacy of the covenant is primarily a worshiping community. What happens in Christian sacramental rituals? The Word of God, spoken once definitively in Jesus Christ, is spoken now in the Church community which is the Body of Christ, the real, glorified soma tou Christou, which is building up to completion. Ritual makes possible.through its pneumatic bodiliness, its symbolic or sacramental na-ture, the entrance by the commUnity here and now into the great sacramental moment, the primordial time, Christ's great Resurrection Passover, which stands at a particular moment of history yet transcends it, catches up within itself the vitality of all history, its direction and its completion. Here the Christian community whose task it is to move sacred history ahead, to build up the Body of Christ, is in contact with the vital source of the upward thrust of sacred history: the leap of the crucified Jesus up into the life of the Christos-pneuma. Covenant intimacy with God becomes possible in ritual: the I-Thou rela-tionship between the Father and the community comes into being in the spoken word and the meal ritual (or other symbolic act), in both of which, taken together, the risen Christ in whom we meet the Father is present through the working of the Spirit. By hearing the ef-fective Word together and eating the sacred meal to-gether (or doing the ritual action of the other sacraments), the members of the community pass together through the greatest of all experiences: the Passover of Christ, the primordial passage of non-being into being, of what is away from God to what is in God, of what is dead: sarx, to what is alive: pneuma. 1. Mass. In this context, the Mass, as the supreme Passover ritual, becomes for the Church and the religious community the supreme moment of covenant communion with the Father and with one another. The place of meet-ing with God is the place of.assembly and formation of the people of God. The people of God were formed to the Qehal Yahweh by communication with God himself. The community entered a covenant with God, and the effec- tive token of this covenant was the paschal meal. This reaches its fulfillment in the Eucharist where we become one people of God by sitting at table with God. For the community, the Mass is not just one of the de-votional exercises of the day, nor merely one of the "means" used by a group 0f3ndividuals for accumulating personal merits. It is first of all a gathering, an assembly of Christians, those who are of Christ. Secondly, it is not an hour of community meditation, but an hour of com-munity action, an event, a celebration. The act of cele-bration is important, for the event is Christ's event (here we have the true meaning of ex opere operato), and the community enters into the mystery of Christ by their ritual transposition of the action of Christ. The event is the Resurrection Passover of Christ which He Himself rit-ually transposed in the sacramental moment of the Last Supper and ordered to be clone in commemoration of Him. Let us examine these two interrelat'ed realities: com-munity and event. The worshiping community is not a priori, not an automatically given thing with which to work out the problem of celebrating Mass. Nor can the community be improvised haphazardly. It must be .built up by active and intelligent effort; it demand~ active con-cern and reverence for the laws of human acting. In fact, if the sacramental reality is to be accomplished, if com-munity is to be created on the supernatural level, the sacramental signs must be authentic. As St. Thomas has told us: the sacraments signify what they cause and cause only insofar as they signify,aa This highlights the necessity for catechesis: instruction, explanation, acclimatization--initiation into the reality of the community and the event. Catechesis is a psy-chological necessity because words and actions must be significant. The Bible and the ritual must be understood by the community. Cathechesis is accomplished both by systematic instruc-tion and by the actual celebration authentically done. We have already spoken of some things that can be done out-side the celebration regarding the catechesis of the Bible. A suggestion or two concerning the cathechesis of the ritual outside the celebration may slip into what fol-lows by an occasional convenient parenthesis, but what we are primarily interested in here is .the ca-thechesis that occurs within the celebration of Mass itself. No matter how much formal instruction we have about the Mass, we can come to learn the Mass only by doing the Mass. Actions must be learned from within, by doing. No matter how many books we read about how Summa Theologiae, 3, q. 62, a. 1, ad I. + + + ommunit~ Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Meh¢, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ,334 to study or how to play tennis, we will never really have learned these activities until we have entered into them. Catechesis must adapt the celebration of the Mass to the psychological climate of the assembly. This, of course, must be done within the limit of the laws of the Church. We do not, for instafice, simply "adapt" our celebration into the vernacular, despite the fact that this might be an excellent cathechetical move, one to be hoped, prayed and worked for through legitimate channels. But there is much to be done within the limits of the present rubrical framework. Let us begin with the community itseff. We can talk the idea of community to people until the Parousia, and it will not create community. A Christian community has to be built up by the celebration of Mass itself. The daily conventual Mass is a summons to enter deeply into com-munity. The community must experience community. Community is indeed where community happens. In the primitive Church there were at first no Catholic schools to teach the idea of community. Community was built up through worship, a worship that took into account the concrete conditions of the lives of the faithful. One of these basic concrete conditions is the bodiliness of men. Body is intrinsic to human personality. Man not only has a body, but also is a body. As we have already seen, man is a spirit incarnate in a body which is its epiphany, its revelation, its sign. And to come to the point here, it is through his body that man is part of the community of the race of Adam 'and through his body that he enters into conscious contact with the community. It is the role of good catechesis to create a sensible at-mosphere of community. It is especially when brethren gather around the altar that they ought to get that ecce quara bonum feeling. What can be done toward this? First of all, there have to be people there. And they ought to be there for the Mass. If I sit down to eat a meal with someone and he insists on reading the paper, I do not feel that he is really with me. Likewise, if the man next to me at Mass is "getting his meditation in" or "getting through his Office," the sense of community i~ being broken down. This does not mean that everyone at Mass has to be doing the same thing, for there are many liturgies or works to be done at the one great liturgy: the celebrant, the choir, the schola, the altar ministers, the organist, the choir director--all have their own work to contribute to th~ whole. But there must be that sense of the whole to which all are contributing. All present must feel that "we came here to do the Mass." The importance of this, I think, is felt instinctively even by those who close themselves up in a meditation book at Mass: they stand, sit, and kneel with the community. This at least is better than nothing, but it is for from the ideal. Akin to this is the practice of having "a Mass going on" in church when the community has come there to do something else. One picks up the habit of not becoming distracted by the Mass. Not only does this dull ofie's abil-ity to participate at other times when he is supposed to, but such a psychologically unsound practice of not doing what you are doing, on the basic religious level, has a disintegrating effect on the total personality and shows up in other activities. The desire to "get in an extra Mass" may proceed from sincere devotion, but it some-what misses the point. Whenever the Mass is used as a background or as something that is secondary, its signifi-cance (which is of prime importance in the sacramental realm) is greatly lessened (I do not say completely ab-sent); this lessening of significance breaks down the au-then. ticity of the ritual, hence its effectiveness. But in the Mass-and-something-else situation, it is not only the Mass that suffers. When two community exercises which de-mand full attention are combined, neither is able to have any depth. The sense of community at Mass is also built up by the alertness and freshness of the presence of the participants. This means that those who plan to attend Mass in the morning ought io feel it their responsibility to get enough sleep the night before to enable them to be attentive to one another and to the sacred actions. It also means that Mass should not be scheduled to be done after a marathon of spiritual exercises has just about exhausted the normal capabilities of a man to do the intensive work which good praying demands. Another important contribution to the sense of com-munity is the very structure of the church building. People at Mass ought to be able to see the altar and to see each other. They must be able to feel close to one another and not to feel oppressed by one another. Their place in church ought to be related to their role at the Mass. They ought to be able to feel together in the pres-ence of God. These problems have to be worked out on the architectural level by those competent in the field. The furnishings of a church must be such as not to distract from the main purpose of the building. The com-munity ought not to be pulled in all directions by a penny arcade of devotional concession stands. This does not mean elimination of statues from the church, but it does mean an integration of all furnishings into the main-stream of attention. This must be done by the planning of skillful designers, not by a mere process of accumula-tion. ÷ ÷ ommunlty Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 335 4. ÷ 4. Aloy~ius Mehr, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 336 The celebrant, too, has his role to play in creating a sense of community. He must realize his role as the leader of the community, as one who acts in their name, and must by his very actions sweep up the community .into participation with him. Hemust understandthat not all parts of thd Mass are equally important, and he must learn how to emphasize the important parts with the proper gestures and tone of voice, and not to monopolize the attention of the community when what he is doing is not the main thing going on, especially when the choir is singing. His gestures must be authentic. When he greets the people, there should be contact, and he should wait for their response. When he proclaims the Word of God, he should do so loudly, clearly, and expressively. During the great presidential, prayer, the anaphora, from the pre-face to the doxology, he should invite the silent attention of the community to what he is doing by his own sense of presence, by his poise and serenity. His whole bodily attitude must be expressive of praise and thanksgiving, His priestly vestments ought to mark him as a man of dis-tinction. In short, he must look and sound like a leader, and to do this he has to feel like one. He is not to be esoteric or insert idiosyncracies into the celebration, yet his action must be personal action flowing expressively from his total personality which on the deepest level is priestly. Finally, the two .very important factors in building up the sense of community are music and movement. People experience real togetherness by mutual singing and mu-tual movement. Every conventual Mass should be a com-munity sing. But again this does not mean that everyone has to sing everything. Some of the prescribed chants are too difficult to be enjoyable for those who are not trained to sing them. The obvious answer is to let the trained schola sing those parts, while the rest of the community listens attentively--at that moment their liturgy is med-itative listening together. Beyond this, there is need for the composition of good music which is singable by the real communities that actuall~ exist. °The ability to sing must be built up, but we have to start where people are and help them experience their own way into better things. The most familiar mutual movements at Mass are the changes of posture: standing, sitting, kneeling, and bow-ing. These movements ought to be expressive and forma-tive of community. This means that all should rise, bow, and so forth, together because community actions are not fully authentic unless every member makes his contribn-tion to the communal movement. These movements, as well as all the ceremonies during any liturgical function, should be expressive of two things: first, the gravity of what is being done, and secondly, the anirna una et cor unum of the community. Beyond the familiar change~ of posture, there are three great movements of the .people of God at Mass--the En-trance Procession, the Offertory Procession, and the Com-munion Procession~during which the community is sing-ing together. There are practical difficulties in restoring the movement features of the first two processions which have been reduced to the singing of the Introit and Of-fertory Antiphons. The difficulties are not insurmount-able, but they are more formidable than the difficulty it would entail to reintroduce the singing feature of the Commun, ion Procession. There are few experiences of community which can match walking in a group of your confreres in joyful song on the way to and fron~ the table of the Lord where you share the .one Bread. Let Us now make a few observations about the cat-echesis of the Mass as an event. The Mass is not an ordi-nary dialogue, nor an ordinary meal. It is a festive speak-ing of God and a festive eating with God. It involves a longing for happiness and salvation, for every feast" has the atmosphere of expectation and liberation from rou-tine. This is the eschatological dimension of the Mass. The early Christian found it easier to feel the festivity of the Mass because he found it easier to see the Mass as a cel-ebration of the coming of the risen Lord, a pledge of His final coming. For the early Christian Christ was present in the Church, especially in the actual liturgical assembly gathered together in His name: as the community cam~ together, Christ came among them. When those who love come together the tone is one of festivity. The Mass must, then, become a real celebration, as its interpenetrating rhythm of dialogue and meal indicate it is meant to be. At a celebration people talk and sing and move around. There is real, free communication. Mass is a dialogue between God and His people through the mediatorship of the priest. The priest talks to God in the name of the people and to the people in the name of God. When people really come together in a festival setting to talk with one another, they bring their interests, their work, their experiences, and their whole personality which transcends these experiences. Here one can see the role that community recreation and community meals can play as a catechesis of the proper celebration of Mass. It is not stretching a point to see community recreation as the extension and fruit of the festive dialogue of the Mass; in itself it has something of the nature of a ritual and might indeed be considered a sacramental for community. Play is sacred. When the Bible says the people rose up ÷ ÷ + Community Exercises VOLUME 21o 1962 337 ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr, O.~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 338 to play while Moses was conversing with God on Mount Sinai, it speaks condemningly of the event, including its sexual misbehavior, precisely because it was an act of false worship (Ex 32:1-6). Later in Israelite history we know that David leapt and danced before the Ark of the Covenant (2 S 6:14). Play is an expression of joy and freedom--like the Sabbath day of rest. The idea of worship and the free-dom from the drudgery of work belong together. The need to break routine is rooted in man's desire for the freedom of salvation. Play is free dialogue, whether it be in the form of relaxed conversation, or a contest in which make-believe competition is manufactured, or the sharing of some unroutinized activity just "for the fun of it." Play keeps a man from b~ecoming a slave to his work; it keeps him from confining himself to the world of I-It. We take a game seriously to a point. We must take it that far, for playing is literally "making fun" of work. The religious significance of this is deep. One can take his life's work seriously only to a point; from there he must "make fun" of it in the sight of God and man as David made fun before the Ark and the people. Other-wise he will become proud and self-sufficient. The world of I-It is not to be despised, but it must lead up to the world of I-Thou, of dialogue between man and man and between man and God. Community recreation ought to be fun, but it must never be dissipation or aesthetically squalid, or the whole meaning of it is destroyed. It is the bringing of the real necessity of one's work to the level of free personal dialogue with God and man. A person-alized celebration of community recreation is a great help to a personalized celebration of Mass. The festivities of" the Mass reach their climax in the meal celebration. Food and drink are an essential part of a celebration. The Mass is a holy eating together, a sacred banquet in which we are filled with the bread of life and drink of the cup of gladness. The symbolism of wine especially provides the atmosphere of festivity. The feeling tone of the Mass is that of a celebration of people who are spiritually well fed and well drunk, who feel the spiritual fullness from the rich bread and the spiritual freedom from the intoxicating wine. Here we might note that the regular community meals can be a real catechesis of the Mass, since they are in fact a sacramental extension of the meal aspect of the Mass through the ritual prayers surrounding them. Human eating is of its nature a sacred and communal act. It is not a mere refueling for another round of work. God is present at every meal in his gifts of food and drink and in the fellowship around the table. The prayers before and after meals set the tone of the meal. They are mos~tly i, excerpts from the Psalms, breathing the spirit of the anawim, the spirit of joy, thanksgiving, appreciation, de-pendence on God, praise, awareness of God's presence, simplicity. The meals themselves should reflect all this. The food should be simple fare, b,ut good. It ought, t.o be eaten in an atmosphere of calm enjoyment, not of frantic dumping from platter to plate to palate. There ought to be a real spirit of fellowship at the table. But besides fellowship at table, we should also be aware of how community meals tie in with the Mass. Father Godfrey Van Lit, O.S.C., describes the intimate relation-ship between the refectory and the ~ chapel, community meals and the Mass.4. The Christian dining room table is a symbol of the Eucharistic table, the altar, and hence the refectory used to be decorated with a large, artistic painting of the Last Supper. As we have silence of place in the chapel, so we also observe silence of place in the refectory, And as in the community Mass the leader pro-claims to us the Good News, so also during our commu-nity meals a lector acquaints us with the consequences of the Gospel narrative. Both at Mass and at table, we are reminded that "not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth from. the mouth of God" (Mr 4:4). Both the Mass and the community meals ought to par-take of the spirit of the Passover and Chaburah meals of the Old Testament. The pervading tone here is that of a family meal. The community superior presides in the place of honor at the table as the father of the family who provides the good gifts. In so doing he is the epiphany of our heavenly Father who provides us with all good things, and the assurance of His presence among us. "He who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9). The hebclomadarius who leads the community both at Mass and at the meal prayers must be seen as the delegate of the father of the community, just as every priest stands at the altar as the delegate of the bishop. So simple a thing as the custom of not starting the prayers until the superior "knocks of[" in chapel or rings the bell in the refectory helps to keep this family awareness. At the com-munity table one ought not to feel that he is just one nameless stop along the long line of the gravy train, but that he is among the little group of his brothers with whom he is at home. We are one "b~cause the bread is one" (1 Cor 10:17). The event aspect of the Mass also demands that the ritual transposition of the sacramental moment should be ~ Lucerna Splendens super Candelabrum Sanctum, Id Est, Solida ac Dilucida Explanatio Constitutionum Sairi ac Canoni¢i Ordinis Fratium Sanctae Crucis (Coloniae Agrippinae: apud Antonii Boet-zeri Heredes, 1632), pp. 45-58; 87. ÷ ÷ ÷ ECxo~mrmcisuensity VOLUME 21, transparent; the celebration must be a revelation of the event itself. The main event is the Easter Passover, but there are other sacramental moments in sacred history which unfold in the course of the Church year as incip-ient or concluding stages of the Passover, from the In-carnation to the Mission of the Spirit. The sacramental moments are themselves revelations, openings into the Passover mystery, which pervades the whole Church in her sacramental ritual. A final note on the Mass concerns the apostolate. Cult is formative of missionaries. Worship is the school of the very Christian experience which the apostle seeks to com-municate to others. Here we must remember that there is no. effective activity without sanctity; there is no sanc-tity which does not radiate in the Church; there is no grace which does not come from the Head, and there is none which does not flow from the member back over the entire Body.~ + + lloysim Mehr, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 34O A religious who neglects his personal sanctity in order to intensify his activity, paralyzes it. The gift of the Spirit is the sacramental basis for com-munity in work. When a man works to bring forth the fruits of the earth as a Christian, he brings these temporal things into the sphere of the Spirit by doing the very best job he can to make his farming or his teaching, and so forth, as perfect as possible within the total context of human life, of community. He is working with the crea-tive force of the Spirit who hovered over the waters and brought order, harmony, and completion out of chao:; and who is now at work in the community. He brings; creation into his Passover experience. He is using the totality of his mind and energies and spirit, which totality exists only within the community, 'to bring creatures to perfection, to fill up the glory ofGod which will come in its fullness at the Parousia. 2. Penance. We are not accustomed to thinking of the sacrament of penance in terms of the community, and in this we have missed much of its meaning. The weekly confession of devotion can easily become for religious a routinized ticking off of peccadillos which one "gets rid' of" by inserting his penitential coins in the laundromat at the back of Church. The sacrament of penance is a re-penetration of our ex-istence into Christ's healing death and Resurrection. Re-penetration implies that something preceded. Through baptism man is ontologically structured into the commu-nity of the holy--holy persons and holy things which they share. Sin 'is something abnormal for man in Christ Jesus '~Jules Lebreton, S.J., The Spiritual Teaching o! the New Testament (Westminster: Newman, 1960), p. 375. (Rom 6:2). By sin man withdraws from the Body of Christ and sides with the world. The sacrament of penance is reconciliation with the Church. It is the Church that listens to his confession, prays for him, and gives him absolution. Here we see the Body of Christ, wounded by'sih, festoring itself t~0 health. For us, a return to God is always, first of all, a return to the Church. Forgiveness is not so much something which the Church brings us, but rather a belonging to the Church outside of which there is no salvation. The importance of the local Church community must be emphasized here. When a sinner is forgiven, he is for-given through the forgiveness of the local community. This was more evident in the earlier forms of the sacra-ment of penance when the sinner was received publicly back into the assembly. He was assured of God's forgive-ness by the concrete forgiving spirit manifested to' him by the community. The power to absolve is vested in those with hierarchical authority, but they absolve in the name of the community of the faithful; hence the?e is a more fruitful and creative spiritual power at work in the con-fessional of a community'where there is a strong spiri't of mutual forbearancb and forgiveness, where the '~'as we forgive those who trespass against us" is prayed with awareness and sincerity, where the offensive person is ac-cepted in patience, understanding, and ultimate trust in what in him lies beyond his offences: his Christian per-sonality. The sacrament of penance can also be made more fruit-ful if the sacramentals of penance in the community life are appreciated. Two important ones. come to mind: Compline confession of sins and the chapter of faults. Let it be remembered that by the institution of the Church these rites are sacramentals, and if approached in a spirit of contrition they accomplish forgiveness of sin. The Compline confession of sin is the best catechesis for the sacrament of penance for it clearly embodies .its essential elements: contrition, confession of sin in the community and to the community, including the whole community of saints in heaven as well as those present; absolution is given by the presiding priest; and everybody prays together for the effectiveness of the forgiveness. The chapter of faults is also well constructed to pro-mote the communal atmosphere of penance, but it needs to be approached in a genuine spirit of sorrow. The pub-lic confession of our faults in the presence of the com-munity helps to make us realize that by our transgres-sions, by our indifference, lack of interest, fulfillment of purely personal inclinations, and non-participation in the community as such, we cut ourselves off, in fact we deny, the ontological status or nature of our very calling. ÷ ÷ ÷ F~oxmermcisuens ity 4. .4. Aloysius Mehr, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Worse yet, we hold back the community, we retard its growth. This seems to be the point of the chapter of faults: we confess that we have not been completely faith-ful to the ideals to which we vowed creative fidelity. 3. Holy Orders. In clerical religious communities, the whole idea of community life is intimately bound up in the sacrament of holy orders. Some observations on the place of the priesthood in the Church are necessary to clear the ground. It has often been said recently that the Church is not the clergy, despite the impression that has long been given to the contrary. The community is the first inten-tion. The priesthood exists for and in and fromthe com-munity through the apostolic succession. The priesthood is a charism, a mode of being in the Church, for the com-munity, not for itself. It expresses and makes possible and matures the general priesthood of the faithful in its three-fold dimension of worship, kingship, and prophethood. These are the Messianic goods, and they have been placed within the community in the gift of the Holy Spirit. In this context the Church itself is the Ur-Sat~rament con-taining the fullness of the Spirit, which is worked out through many diverse gifts. The priesthood is a charism for the building up of the Church (Eph 4:11-14). Ordination is the,gift of the Holy Spirit by the laying on of hands in the Church for the community. The priest is filled personally by the Holy Spirit to be his minister. No man takes the office to him-self-- or for himself. The fullness of the priesthood is only in the bishop. He is the sign of the full presence of Christ on earth, the organ of unity within the local Church community. He is one with Christ and one with his people. His faith is the norm for the faith of his flock. St. Cyprian defines the . Church as the people united to its priest, the flock stick-ing with its shepherd. The 'bishop is the nucleus of the community because he is the link with Christ through the imposition of hands through which the continuum of the soma tou Christou is maintained. The presbyterate is only a share in the bishop's priest-hood, a subsidiary priesthood under the bishop. As the ordination rite explicitly states, the presbyter is a "sec-ond- rate" priest: secundi meriti. In this light, every priest is a diocesan priest, and, exempt or not, when he works as a priest in a diocese, he works there as the helper of the bishop. By his ordination he is ontologically struc-tured for this work. He is called from the depths of his being to be a helper to the bishop of the diocese in which he lives. Here one can see what a deordination it is for religious priests not to be on good terms with the local ordinary. These good relations should also exist with the rest of the local clergy since the presbyterate is not merely an in-dividualistic but a collegiate institution. The architecture of early churches and the episcopal liturgy indicate this by placing the corona presbyterorum on the bema round the bishop. We still put the clergy together in the sanc-tuary. When a presbyter is ordained he joins the ordo foresbyterovum. This is eloquently obvious in the ordina-tion rite when the "college of presbyters" encircles the ordinands and joins the bishop in the imposition of hands. Priestly fellowship is rooted in the sacramental re-ality, and this sacramental reality is also what makes com-munity life a natural thing for priests. The unity in an order of canons draws its essential vitality from the sacra-ment of holy orders. In this context, the naturally prominent position of the Divine Office and liturgical exercises in many of the cler-ica. I religious communities becomes evident. The Divine Office is, as defined by Pope Pius XII, ~he perennial prayer of the Church, offered to God in the name and on behalf of all Christians, by those who have been deputed for this. It is the hymn of the Divine Word who has united to Him-self the entire human race, and the hymn which He sings is the hymn of praise which is sung in heaven continu-ously. St. Augustine is correct in saying that in the Divine Office "Christ prays for us. as our Priest; he prays in us as our Head; we pray to him as our God . We recognize Our voice in him and his voice in us.''4~ It is the Church praying. But we should go one step further. When a community of canons regular is called into existence by the Holy Spirit and officially approved by the Church, it is by its very nature entrusted with the solemn and communal celebration of the sacred liturgy, especially the Divine Office and the conventual Mass. If any religious body has the right to say that the liturgical life is its ideal, it is the canons regular.47 They above all should lead the way in the liturgical revival of Christian life. The proper chanting of the Divine Office in common is formative of community. But, in order to be formative of community, it presupposes first of all that the community understands the dignity of the Church's prayer, secondly, that the choir members are able to read the text of the prayer intelligently, and, finally, that they adopt as their own the sentiments expressed in these prayers. ,e Mediator Dei, nn. 142-144. ,TDom Germain Morin, O.S.B., The Ideal o] the Monastic Life Found in the Apostolic Age (Westminster: Newman, 1950), p. 105: "If any Order has the right to boast of this it is the Canons Regular, rather than ourselves." See also the article "Canons Regular and the Breviary" by Roger Capel, Orate Frates, v. 23 (1948-49), pp. 246-251. ÷ ÷ + ECxoemrdmsuesnity VOLUME 21. 1962 343 ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS It is not merely a question of recitatk;n or of singing which, however perfect according to the norms of music and sacred rites, onl)t reaches the ear, but it is especially a question of the ascent ot the mind and heart to God' so that, united with Christ, we may completely dedicate ourselves and all our ac-tions to him.'s Whenever the Divine Office is chanted "worthily, with attention and devotion," it is prayer in the fullest sense of the term, and every genuine prayer cements together the members of a community. "Our deepest contacts with one another can be made only through God.''49 It is only in the depths of prayer that, in the fullest sense of the term, deep calls out to deep, and the soul gives itself to God. In this sense, every genuine prayer is a renewal of religious profession, the leaving of all things and following He-who- is. If the religious community is to blossom forth into a true community of worship and love, it must be able, at all times, to call upon this interior gift to God.5° The central portion of the Divine Office is the Psalter: the Word of God. The best way for men to pray together is to speak with God in God's own words, for the Word of God is formative and expressive of the community. The common chanting of the Psalter is, by and large, a meditar tive re-experiencing together of the great events of sacred history--again a community-forming factor.5x The Psalter is redolent with man's proper responses to God and his works: the spirit of the anawira, the poor in spirit, God's lowly ones through whom sacred history is accomplished. By a continual singing of these prayers day after day for many .years, these attitudes of heart sink into those who give themselves to this prayer with their minds and hearts and bodies. Through the ritual action, the attitudes and events are effectively experienced by the total personality in community; by all the rules of psychology such prayer is extremely capable of transforming one's life as an aLt-thentic individual in the community. A final note on the Divine Office concerns the non-choir members and every other member of the community who has been assigned work incompatible with regular attend-ance at choir. Here it is important to remember that the choir is a community obligation'. In a living community there are many members "just as in one body we have many members, yet all the members have not the same function" (Rom 12:4). Some are sent out as missionaries, others do the cooking, others are engaged in social work--- ~s Mediator Dei, n. 145. ~9 R. W. Gleason, S.J., To Live is Christ (New York: Sheed anti Ward, 1961), p. 11. ~ T. de Ruiter, O.F.M., Her Mysterie van de Kloostergemeenschap (Mechelen: St. Franciskusdrukkerij, 1958), p. 131. ~ Mediator Dei, n. 148. each according to the grace that has been given to him (Rom 12:6). And then there are also those who are not excused and who have the responsibility to be in choir. In each case it is the community at work or at prayer. Whether we are in the choir or legitimately excused, we are all working together in the name of the omhaunity, fulfilling our role in the completion of the cosmic task. 4. Extreme Unction. The communal dimension of ex-treme unction must be viewed from the Christian stand-point on death. The creation of Adam in flesh is the man-ifestation of the mystery of contingency which attends the existence of all things outside of God. Only God is in Himself and by Himself. All other beings tend to fuller being, which implies nonbeing. Death is the natural con-sequence of man's fleshy nature. Since the human race is a community in flesh it is also a community in death. Adam, however, did not accept his contingency. He failed to project beyond the dissolution of flesh to fuller life. He revolted against being the creature who dies, and death became a punishment for this sin. since the human race is a community in sin, it is a community in the pun-ishment of death (Rom 5:12). Christ, the New Adam, humbled himself: took on con-tingency. He submitted, as the suffering Servant, to be the creature who dies, and death became a redemption, a passage into the eternal life for which Adam revolted in vain (Rom 5:15-19; 1 Cot 15:21). Since the Church is a community in redemption, it is a community in triumph over death. Through the Church's sacraments of death and disso-lution, Viaticum and extreme unction, all human suffer-ing. and death is taken into the redemptive sufferings of Christ. The falling apart involved in suffering and death becomes the creative mustering of forces for the upward thrust to a higher level of life. The death of the Christian is his final experience of the Passover of Christ. Without Christ, death is complete loneliness. One leaves the community of his loved ones to go alone into nothing-ness. Christian death conquers this ultimate loneliness. The highpoint of the ritual for the dying is the admin-istration of Holy Viaticum. The Christian does not go alone into death: the Lord comes to take his faithful serv-ant up into his triumphant Passover. The Lord is able to come in Viaticum because the community has celebrated the Eucharistic Passover. Much of the loneliness of death comes from the effect of sin, by which man cuts himself off from the community. In the prayers and anointing for sickness unto death, the healing Lord approaches in the person of the priest to cure the wounds of severance from the community, to re-store the peace of mind that can come only from c6mplete + + + Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 345 4. 4. 4. Aloysius Mehr, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 346 reconciliation with the Church. Again, the priest is acting in the name of the community. The death of a Christian is a deep experience for the community in which it occurs. When at all possible, the religious community should be present at the administra-tion of the last sacraments to the dying members of the community, and they should pa.rticipate in the expressive prayers of the ritual. Such a death is a witness to the reality of the triumph of Christ, a real martyrdom. The joyful and peaceful suffering and death of one with whom we live in intimacy is a striking pledge of the reality of Christ's Resurrection and the certainty of the Parousia. Here we have the reason for a quite joyful celebration of a funeral. What is said of death extends also to the sufferings of illness, disease, and serious injury, as well as of old age. Here there is the same factor of dissolution and contin-gency which is at work in death. Illness and death are times of crisis that naturally draw the community together to struggle against the loneliness which has set into our flesh as a result of sin. The serious sufferings of a member of the community are a community experience and ought to be entered into by the community. This involves a patient care and con-cern for the aged and the sick and keeping the community informed of their condition. It means visiting the sick. It would also be good to make use of the magnificent ritual for the visitation of the sick: let the community gather occasionally in the sick room to join in these moving and consoling prayers led by the superior. In the communal carrying out of this sacramental, the healing Lord will be present, and the patient endurance of suffering in the true Christian spirit will again be a witness to the community of the reality of Christ's presence and the certainty of his coming. Epilogue: The Dynamism of the Sacramental Com-munity There is an inherent tension in the very being of a sac-ramental dispensation or system: the tension, inherent in the nature of a sign, toward the fullness of that reality which is less than fully present in the sign. This underlies the call, covenant, and passover aspect of the sacraments and gives them their "obligatory" dimension, their ex-istential imperative. In Christian life this tension is the cosmic covenant: the Christian community's responsibil-ity for the entire cosmos which needs redemption and building up. This means authentic community work. Religious life is Christian response lived to the full in the working out of salvation history. It is charged with the building up of the Church unto the Pleroma, with the hastening of the day of the coming of the Lord (Ac 3:20; 2 Pt 3:11-12

Issue 51.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1992. ; fo,r relig i ous Christian Heritages and ContemP0ra~ Living SEPTEMBER-O~OBER 1992 ~ t VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048 ¯ FAX: 314-535-0601 ,÷ Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: .Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 Washington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. ©1992 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez sJ Sefin Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 5 contents spiritual growth 646 Spirituality, Spiritual Development, and Holiness William G. Thompson SJ explores by means of three personal examples the relationship between being holy and being devel-oped spiritually. 659 Listening as the Foundation for Spirituality Robert P. Malohey CM proposes that listening becomes a basic Christian stance for a healthy and practical spirituality. 675 Two Key Transitions in Spiritual Growth John Wickham SJ mixes traditional language and new approaches to explain the major movements from the discerning and affirmation of the self to ultimate union with the Lord. religious life 691 Seeking a Sense of Direction in a Time of Transition David F. O'Connor ST reviews the history of how traumatic changes in religious life have preceded new forms of dedication and vitality. 707 Religious Life in the Puebla Document Juan Ram6n Moreno SJ emphasizes the directions of religious life in Latin America given official support in the Puebla docu-ment. 716 721 A Collaborative Retirement Convent Kathleen Steinkamp RSM details the process by which two reli-gious communities established a residential care facility for their retired members. living spiritually Reinventing the Sabbath Dennis Hamm SJ presents a refreshing review of the meaning of 642 R~view for Religious 733 736 sabbath rest and its importance for the survival of our faith. Priesthood, Listening, and the Music Bishop Paul A. Zipfel instructs Dominican ordinands to reverence the gift of orders they will be receiving. A Diligent Compassion Theresa Mancuso relives both the pain of grief on the occasion of her mother's death and the long process of being reconciled with that loss. 743 754 praying Becoming Contemplative Here or There Marie Beha OSC traces out four strands of monastic contemplative discipline to give outsiders a close look at some fibers that go into a contemplative life. An Imaginative Look at Mary Jeffrey B. Symynkywicz focuses his imagined prayer or his prayer-ful imagination on how he sees Mary fitting into today's world. life directions 762 A Journey of Transformation Together Lorelle E. Elcock OP describes the steps of the process of trans-forming three Dominican congregations of women into a new unity. 770 Celibacy as Possibility Marie McCarthy SP explores a celibacy that is concerned about possibilities for life, for generativity, and for transformation. 644 782 789 departments Prisms Canonical Counsel: Communicating an Indult of Departure Book Reviews September-October 1992 643 prisms ~hat does a laywoman in Brooklyn have in common with a professor in Central America gunned down for his beliefs, with an auxiliary bishop in St. Louis known for his pastoral-liturgical style, and with a member of a religious community facing the prospect of no new members? In addition to being people who have struggled to live authentic Christian lives, each of these men and women has articles in this issue of Review for Religious. They join their voices with a treasurer of a reli-gious community, with a cloistered contemplative sister, and with spiritual directors, theologians, and administra-tors from Canada, Rome, and the United States to exam-ine a whole spectrum of issues of interest to the contemporary church. These women and men--and, over the years, many others like them--have written about their religious expe-riences in these pages. As they share their personal insights and practical observations about living their faith, our readers around the world benefit from their reflections. Review for Religious has been a valuable resource because of the rich diversity of topics it treats and because of the wide range of perspectives it presents. Have you ever wondered how such articles come to be published? One of the best-kept secrets about this pub-lication is that the editors seldom solicit articles for a par-titular: issue. Over the years a steady flow of unsolicited manuscripts has provided a substantial backlog of articles. The editors simply select, edit, and group the articles. We are constantly amazed at what comes across our desks. Each year the editors consider 250 to 300 articles. From these we select between 90 and 100 for publication. 644 Review for Religious After the editors have chosen the articles they wish to publish, their time is consumed by the process of careful copy editing, proofreading, and preparing the articles for press. The continued vitality of this journal depends on the contri-butions from our readers. Articles that appear in Review are writ-ten, for the most part, by nonprofessional writers--people just like you. That's right. People just like the one who is reading these words at this moment. But this should not come as a surprise. Some two thousand years ago a tax collector and a tent maker did not look on themselves as writers, but today we still draw inspi-ration from the words they penned. Moses and Jeremiah found words worth recording even though one stuttered and the other felt inexperienced. Many of us feel equally inhibited. Few people consider themselves writers. None of the members of the Review staff, if truth be known, prepared themselves for careers in writing or publishing. Yet each of us discovers that, at some point in our lives, we have something to say. We may, how-ever, have difficulties convincing ourselves of that fact. But consider the words found in the Book of Deuteronomy: "The word is very near to you, it is in your mouth and in your heart." The words we discover within our hearts often merit a wider audience. Have you come to a fresh understanding of prayer during a recent retreat or as you talk with other people who pray? Review for Religious would like to invite you to share your experiences and insights. Has the community or parish you live in developed a program or a new method of interacting that others could profit from hearing about? Review could make that possible. If some-thing strikes you as original or valuable, chances are someone else will benefit from hearing that idea. May we invite you to consider becoming a writer? Should you feel that you have the materials for an article that meets the mission statement printed on the back cover of this issue, con-sider putting it on paper. Review will be delighted to send you a set of writers' guidelines. These guidelines clearly describe how to prepare and submit an article for publication in this journal. Review and its many readers want to hear your ideas. And we will be grateful to you for the courage and hard work you will invest in expressing them. Michael Harter SJ September-October 1992 645 WILLIAM G. THOMPSON spiritual growth Spirituality, Spiritual Development, and Holiness For several years I have been articulating for myself and my classes a working model of the inner world represented by the terms spirituality, spiritual development, and holi-ness. In this article I offer some insights I have had as I wondered about how these terms are related. How is spir-ituality related to the human sciences, especially devel-opmental psychology? Is spiritual development the same as what psychologists call human development? How is holiness related to psychological wholeness? I will begin with three examples, move to a more technical exploration of the terms, and return to reflect on the examples in the light of that exploration. Rachel, an adolescent with cerebral palsy, is so severely delayed in her human development that she cannot attend the regular religious-education classes or the liturgies in her parish. Every two weeks she gathers with five other similarly retarded adolescents and six adult sponsors for sessions in special religious education, symbolic catech-esis for the mentally retarded. Joan, who has been her sponsor and friend in this gathering for five years, is con-vinced that despite her developmental retardation Rachel is a very holy young woman. William G. Thompson sJ specializes in the New Testament for adult spirituality and pastoral ministry. He has a doctorate in Scripture from the Pontifical Biblical Institute and serves as asso-ciate professor in Loyola University's Institute of Pastoral Studies, Chicago. His most recent book is Matthew's Story: Good News for Uncertain Times (Paulist, 1989). His address is Ignatius House; 1331 W. Albion Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60626. 646 Review for Religious Katie Klein was born in Germany but came to the United States at the end of World War I. When I was a child, she came to our home two days a week to do laundry and clean our house, as she did for two other families. I came to know and love Katie. She lived a simple, structured, apparently rigid and unimaginative, but also very meaningful life. She went to Mass every morning before work, and she spent at least an hour after work reciting traditional prayers at home. I believe that Katie was a very holy woman even though she seemed never to outgrow the simple piety that had given meaning to her younger years. Before her death in 1950, no personal crisis or public event occurred to chal-lenge her way of living a life that appeared to be pleasing to God. During Vatican Council II, I was pursuing doctoral studies at the Biblical Institute in Rome. Day by day I interiorized the drama of the council as I received reports about its progress from a fellow Jesuit who attended the sessions. I soon sensed that the vision of the church in the modern world that was being shaped in the council's debates was tearing down the world of meaning I had put together for myself over the fifteen years of my Jesuit formation and education. I somehow knew that a long and subtle search for a new world of meaning was beginning. Had the Vatican Council not called us Roman Catholics to let our paradigms shift and leap to a different horizon of meaning, I might still be wear-ing the traditional Jesuit cassock and living the style of priest-hood for which I was so well trained. Spirituality Before Vatican II, spirituality as it refers to lived experience was an almost exclusively Roman Catholic term. But it has taken on a much broader meaning with the council's invitation to a new awareness of, dialogue with, and appreciation of other Christian denominations and of non-Christian religions. In recent years we have been speaking of spirituality as found in various Protestant traditions and in the various traditions of Judaism, as well as in Hinduism, Islam, and Buddhism. Vatican II also called us to a new dialogue with the human sciences, especially with the fields of psychology, sociology, and anthropology, in which spirituality refers to the human spirit apart from religion. Some even speak about the spirituality of antireligious movements such as secular feminism and atheistic Marxism. September-October 1992 647 Thompson ¯ Spirituality and Holiness Spirituality has become a broad, inclusive term that is no longer confined to or defined by religion. It seems now to name a human reality which is difficult to define but whose patterns can be verified in quite different religions and movements. It is no longer limited to the so-called "interior life" of those (mostly priests and religious) who "strive for perfection" through a life of prayer and virtue beyond that of the "ordinary" believer. Spirituality now focuses on the human spirit of believers and non-believers, on their lives as a whole, that is, on the physical and emotional, the intellectual and social, the political and cultural, the secular and religious dimensions of their lives.1 In recent years academic courses and publications in spiritu-ality have multiplied in response to the broad and deep interest among professionals in ministry and among academics in semi-naries and universities. How then are we to define spirituality? Sandra Schneiders provides the best definition that I have found: "Spirituality is the experience of consciously striving to integrate one's life in terms not of isolation and self-absorption but of self-transcendence toward the ultimate value one perceives.''2 According to this definition, (1) spirituality names our progressive, consciously pursued movement toward personal integration; (2) such integration happens when we transcend ourselves rather than center on ourselves and our own self-actualization; and (3) such self-transcendence takes place within the horizon of how we imag-ine, think, and feel about what is ultimate in human life and moves us toward it. For Christians our ultimate concern is God revealed in Jesus Christ and experienced through the gift of the Holy Spirit and within the life of the church. But a spirituality may or may not include God or Jesus Christ, may or may not be explicitly reli-gious. Clear boundaries between the secular and the sacred, between believers and nonbelievers, are notoriously difficult to determine. But twelve-step spirituality has taught us that for reli-gious persons reliance on their "Higher Power" may mean reliance on God, while for nonreligious persons it may mean reliance on their support groups. However, our definition of spirituality does not extend to those persons who organize, orient, and orches-trate their lives in dysfunctional or narcissistic ways according to addictive patterns such as alcoholism or self-centered eroticism. Self-transcendence moves us out of compulsive, addictive, obses-sive patterns of behavior toward more healthy relationships with 648 Review for Religious other persons, with ourselves, and with a transcendent Other, however we imagine and name that Other. At the heart of spirituality, then, lies self-transcendence? The philosophical meaning of spirituality is that capacity for self-tran-scendence through knowledge and love which characterizes humans as persons. We human beings actual-ize this philosophical spirituality within the net-works and patterns of our relationships with others. We seek meaning and are found by meaning as we interact with each other indi-vidually and in communities; and we seek truth and are found by truth in these interactions. A religious spirituality affirms that the proper and highest realization of our human capacity for self-transcendence is to be found in our personal relationship with God. Spirituality in this religious sense has as its ultimate concern our individual and communal believing in, hoping for, and loving God. Religious traditions that imagine and understand God as a person who relates reciprocally with individuals and communi-ties on earth have a religious spirituality. The religions of Islam and Hinduism, of Judaism and Christianity, all see our human spirit as responding to, dependent upon, related to, and account-able to a transcendent Other named God. These religions include images, symbols, metaphors, stories, laws, and rituals through which people encounter God and are encountered by God. In Christian spirituality God's Spirit within but other than our human spirit, within but other than the community of believ-ers, actualizes our capacity for self-transcendence by relating us in and through Jesus Christ to others, to our world, and to God. Our spirituality is at work when we implicitly or explicitly imag-ine- think and feel about, make choices and decisions about-- our everyday lives within the ultimate horizon of our relationship to a personal God in and through Jesus Christ and as empow-ered by God's Spirit. We Christians seek to interpret our indi-vidual and collective human experience as centered in Jesus Christ, guided by the Holy Spirit, and oriented to God. Our spirituality is incarnational and trinitarian. God initiates the personal relationship in and through Christ by the power of the Spirit; our spirituality, individual and collec-tive, reflects how we respond to God's initiative as we face the At the heart of spirituality lies self-transcendence. Septentber- October 1992 649 T~_~pson . Spirituality and Holiness, challenges of everyday life within our specific historical and cul-rural environment. Our spirituality is the sum of our responses to what we perceive as the inner call of God. It has to do with our vocation, that is, with the activities by which we find God and are found by God, by which we find a purpose for life that is part of the purposes that God has for our lives in the world. It has to do with the activities by which we are being created by God and create with God, by which we are governed by God and govern our world with God, by which we are being redeemed by God and participate in God's work of redemption in our concrete his-torical situation. At its core, Christian spirituality concerns how we live in part-nership with the action of God in our lives, whatever its pattern. It focuses on how God actively guides our evolving universe, including God's personal interactions with individuals and com-munities. It acknowledges that our human lives are created by God and destined to return to God. It is concerned with how we are aware of and respond to God and how we transcend ourselves to relate more deeply with others and with our world. As we shall see, this call to self-transcendence may also, but need not, include development, that is, movement in the direction of more devel-oped patterns for finding truth and meaning in our lives.4 Returning to our examples: Rachel, although developmentally retarded, transcends herself by responding to Joan's invitation to friendship, the human experience that most closely resembles faith. She is instinctively present to the other adolescents in the praying group, and she senses that the adult sponsors truly want to be totally present to her. Responding more often with smiles and gestures than with words, Rachel lives close to her feelings and does not hide them from others. She has no problem loving the others and wanting to be loved, even though her movement toward personal integration is slow and retarded. Katie Klein transcended herself by serving our family and other families as laundress and cleaning lady and by being devoted to God at daily Eucharist and in her nightly prayers at home. Her faithful devotion to God and her dedicated service of others dis-closed her ultimate concern; she lived cheerfully and peacefully within the horizon of that concern. Her movement toward per-son] l integration seemed not to include changing how she found meaning in her life. I was called to transcend myself by engaging the events of 650 Review for Religious Vatican II, letting them interact with and begin to tear down the world of meaning constructed over the long years of my Jesuit formation and education. From 1963 to 1968, I was invited to let all that the council meant slowly change how I understood myself as a Jesuit priest, as well as let its vision shape in me images of what my life and work would be as a biblical scholar in the post- Vatican II Roman Catholic Church. I experienced this process as an invitation not simply to move but to leap to a new and broader world of meaning and as a challenge to come to a different under-standing of myself in that world. Spiritual Development Human development is the lifelong process of growing, of changing in many different ways. We humans sometimes change to survive or at least to find meaning in our lives. Sometimes we choose new ways to realize our dreams and attain our goals. At other times we learn better skills and gain more expertise while remaining in the same relationships to others and to our work that give meaning to our lives. We are invited to grow and develop, however, when events so shatter the ways in which we have found meaning and been found by meaning that we inust move toward shaping new patterns that will be more adequate to our changed inner and outer environment. Our journey through life may sometimes take us to new vis-tas of knowing, to deeper realms of trusting, to ever widen.ing circles of belonging, to more creative and effective acting. As we develop, we are enabled to embrace a wider world, to acknowledge a more adequate truth, to live in a more inclusive community, and to enter more deeply into the mystery of human existence. A relatively young discipline, the psychology of human devel-opment was born in response to our modern culture, in which, expecting to live longer lives, we become fascinated by what the extended journey entails. We also sense that, as we near the end of the twentieth century, the global village we call our world is dramatically changing. We need and want to know how we indi-viduals and our families and communities are to navigate such hazardous times. Erik Erikson and Jean Piaget are considered the fathers of developmental psychology. For Erikson, the father of psychoso-cial theories, development is h series of tasks based both on bio- Septe,nber- October 1992 651 Thompson ¯ Spirituality and Holiness logical development and on how we interact consciously and unconsciously with other persons, with secular and religious insti-tutions, and with all that makes up our culture. Erikson names a sequence of eight tasks: trust vs. mistrust, autonomy vs. shame and doubt, initiative vs. guilt, industry vs. inferiority, identity vs. role confusion, intimacy vs. isolation, generativity vs. stagnation, integrity vs. despair. We never complete any of these lifelong tasks, but, as we move through our lives, one task more than the others may call for special energy and attention. For example, the elderly continue to work at the tasks of trust vs. mistrust and generativity vs. stagnation even as they are called to the final task, integrity vs. despair,s Jean Piaget, the father of structural-developmental theories, focused on the structures of human thought and reasoning. He recognized that infants, children, and adolescents come to know reality differently. He developed an understanding, of cognitive development in which a stage is an integrated pattern of opera-tional structures that at a given time constitute the person's thought processes. Piaget called his stages preoperational, concretely oper-ational, early formal operational, and formal operational. Development from one stage to another involves the transforma-tion of these cognitive structures in the direction of greater inter-nal differentiation, complexity, flexibility, and stability.6 Erikson's tasks, with their focus on what meaning we find in our lives, are related to the seasons of our lives, to our youth and adolescence and to our early, middle, and late adulthood. Piaget's structural stages, with their concern for bow we find and are found by meaning, are not so related to chronological age or social envi-ronment. As children we may have begun to develop formal oper-ational structures in which our experience of others is concrete, literal, and immediate. We may have created strong stereotypes of others, shown little empathy for those with whom we are not familiar, and developed a strong but simple sense of right and wrong based on regulations, law and order, and reward and pun-ishment. Since this structure is not age related, we may live all the seasons of our lives and address all the psychosocial tasks without moving toward the next structural stage of human development. We may continue to use existing structures as long as they work, that is, until our inner and outer worlds become so much more complex that we can no longer find and be found by meaning within those structures and patterns. 652 Review for Religious When we experience life as more complex than we have known it, we may be invited to move toward the next stage of human development, toward the next task (Erikson) or toward the next structure for finding meaning (Piaget). Crises, marker events, unfulfilled hopes, changes in significant relationships can create an inner climate of confusion, doubt, and conflict that invites us into transition. Rome during Vatican II was such an inner and outer environment. If we choose to respond to the invi-tation, we begin to separate from the images that have given mean-ing to our lives and then to float in between the old and the new so that we may gradually reintegrate our lives around more ade-quate images of how we are to know, feel, value, love, and act. As we change, we may feel weak, vulnerable, and out of control because we have begun to experience our lives as more chaotic than orderly. Nevertheless, we are drawn to risk moving or being moved toward more developed patterns so that we may live and act more effectively in our increasingly complex world. Transitions in human development are those more or less extended periods in which we gradually develop more internal complexity, more sub-tle differentiation, greater flexibility, and stronger inner stability. This is the place to ask how human development with its stages and transitions relates to spiritual development. We have seen that spirituality has as its concern how over time we integrate our lives in the direction not of isolation and self-absorption but of greater self-transcendence toward the ultimate value as we per-ceive it. According to Daniel Helminiak, spiritual development is the same as human development but with four characteristics that make it spiritual: (1) an intrinsic principle of authentic self-transcendence, (2) the openness of the person to such self-tran-scendence, (3) the integrity or wholeness of the person in question, and (4) an adult capacity for self-criticism and responsibility for oneself.7 Spiritual development, like spirituality, is a general human phenomenon that may or may not be religious. It is more prop-erly studied in the human sciences than in theology, particularly in developmental psychologies with a philosophical perspective. Spiritual development can be called religious when in our search for meaning we acknowledge a personal God to whom we are related and with whom we can realize our deepest capacity for self-transcendence. Christian spiritual development understands that relationship as the gift of God's Spirit actualizing our capac- Septentber-October 1992 653 Thompson ¯ Spirituality and Holiness ity for self-transcendence and relating us to God in Jesus Christ within the Christian community of believers. We Christians believe that God is present and active in the events that change our inner climate, that Jesus Christ invites us into transition and enables us to respond to the invitation, and that God's Spirit com-panions us as we separate from outworn images and learn to float in between, waiting patiently for new, more life-giving images to emerge. Spiritual development can also be described as our moving into deeper and more comprehensive love. Love is Jesus' only command and the standard of perfection in the Christian tradi-tion. 8 Developmental psychology considers this same movement from self-centeredness to self-transcendence its criterion for human development. Although Christians understand spiritual growth as involving more than psychological development, both the Christian tradition and developmental psychology have the same vision of human maturity, that is, movement toward greater autonomy for the sake of more authentically mutual and intimate relationships. Insights from developmental psychology can enrich our understanding of and help us grow into more mature rela-tionships with others, with ourselves, with the cosmos, and with God. Holiness With this understanding of spirituality and spiritual devel-opment, we now ask what it means to be holy and whether holi-ness is the same as wholeness. I agree with Daniel Helminiak that holiness has to do with the quality of one's relationship to God, while spiritual development has to do with the pattern of that relationship? A person can be holy at any stage of spiritual devel-opment; a neurotic person can be holy; a developmentally dis-abled or retarded person can be holy. Holiness has nothing to do with psychological wholeness, but everything to do with the qual-ity of our relationships to God and others, to ourselves and our world, whatever the pattern of those relationships. Holiness has to do with generosity, surrender, intensity, openness, and depth according to our capacity to possess and exercise these qualities. Holiness concerns our authenticity before God, others, ourselves, and our world, how we walk in these relationships, how we do God's will, how we remain close to God and others, how we live 654 Review for Religious in harmony with God, others, and ourselves, how we cooperate with the call and grace of God in our lives. Holiness concerns how well we respond to God's call to self-transcendence and enter into meaningful relationships with oth-ers and with all that makes up our environment. God's call may or may not include an invitation to move toward the next stage of human development, that is, toward more complex patterns for finding and being found by meaning. What counts is how open we are to God, how well we listen for God, and how well we respond to God in and through the relationships that make up our everyday lives. God calls us to holiness within our concrete histori-cal and cultural situation, whether we are developmentally retarded, as is Rachel; or we live with simple patterns for finding meaning, as did Katie; or we are invited to " move to the next stage of spiritual devel-opment, as I was invited. Our vocation--that is, the activities by which we find God and are found by God, by which we find a purpose for our life that is part of the purposes that God has for our life in the world--may include an invitation to develop new, more complex patterns for making meaning, but it may not. Holiness cannot be identified with psychological wholeness or correlated with spiritual development. A less developed person may be holy, while a more developed person may not. As we pass through the stages of spiritual development, we may become more psychologically mature, but whether or not we also grow in holi-ness depends on the quality of our response to the call of God in our lives. Holiness has to do with the quality of one's relationship to God, while spiritual development has to do with the pattern of that relationship. Conclusion Now we return to our cases. Rachel cannot manage in the usual parish groups of adolescents because she moves at a much slower pace than normal in her spiritual development. She has moved through the stages of grasping reality by exploring every-thing in sight (sensory-motor thinking), of imagining the outside Septentber-October 1992 655 Thompson ¯ Spirituali~ and Holiness " world to fit her inside world (symbolic thinking), and of identi-fying with what she learns (intuitive thinking). But her retardation makes her as yet incapable of thinking beyond what actually is to what is possible (formal operational thinking). Her adult friend Joan and the other adult sponsors are convinced that Rachel is holy and growing in holiness even though developmentally retarded. Rachel receives her vocation from God through Joan and the other adolescents and adults at their biweekly sessions in symbolic catechesis. She responds to those around her and to God with the capacity she has to symbolize and imagine, to know and be known, to love and be loved. Joan senses that almost imperceptibly Rachel is growing more open, more generous, and more authentic in responding to this call of God. Her holiness depends on the quality of her response to others and to God, not on the stage of her spiritual development,l° Katie Klein lived a regular, structured, apparently unimagi-native, but meaningful life. Her experience of others and of God was concrete, literal, and immediate. And she had a 'strong but simple sense of right and wrong. She moved through the tasks of adult life (Erikson) with early formal operational structures of thought (Piaget). Although capable of further development, Katie found those patterns adequate for finding and being found by meaning in her inner and outer world. Generously serving others and being faithful to daily Mass and devotional prayers, Katie became a very holy woman even though her life situation, God in her life, never invited her to move beyond an uncomplicated pat-tern of spiritual development. Within that pattern Katie responded more and more generously to God and walked more and more faithfully with God to become as holy a person as anyone I have known. In how well she loved and served our family, in how deeply she trusted God as she approached death, we knew that Katie's was a rich, solid, strong partnership with God. During my doctoral studies, the events of Vatican II invited me to develop spiritually by letting conventional patterns for find-ing meaning in my Jesuit life be shattered so that more adequate, more individuated, more autonomous structures might be shaped. As I interacted with the environment of the council, God called me to an experience of brokenness so that I might become more whole psychologically, more mature spiritually. Reality became chaotic compared with what I had known in my years of Jesuit formation. Challenged to change, feeling vulnerable, I risked 656 Review for Religious moving toward more complex patterns for making meaning in my life. God called me into this transition so that I might more effectively live and work in the world envisioned by the council. As I struggled through this developmental transition, whether or not I was also becoming holy depended not on the transition but on how well I was listening to and how generously I was responding to the call of God in that experience. Rachel was developmentally retarded, but l~oly; Katie was never called into transition, and she was holy. God invited me to move from the conventional world of meaning I had constructed in my Jesuit formation toward a more individual stage of spiritual develop-ment. Does that mean I was also becoming more holy? Not nec-essarily! We cannot measure holiness, neither our own nor other people's; only God knows the quality of that response to God. We can remember, however, and we must, that holiness concerns how well we live in partnership with God, not how far we have advanced through the stages of spiritual development. Notes ~ Sandra M. Schneiders, "Spirituality in the Academy," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 681-683; Joann Wolski Conn, Spirituality and Personal Maturity (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1989), pp. 13-29. 2 Schneiders, "Spirituality," p. 684. 3 Sandra M. Schneiders, "Theology and Spirituality: Strangers, Rivals, or Partners," Horizons 13 (1986): 266; Wolski Conn, Spirituality, pp. 29- 30. 4 For further discussion see Katherine Marie Dyckman and L. Patrick Carroll, Inviting the Mystic, Supporting the Prophet (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1981), p. 79; Benedict J. Groeschel, Spiritual Passages (New York: Crossroad, 1988), p. 4; James W. Fowler, Becoming Adult, Becoming Christian (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1984), pp. 71-76; James W. Fowler, Weaving the New Creation (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1991), p. 31. s For another approach to psychosocial development, see Daniel J. Levinson, The Seasons of a Man's Life (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1978); Anita Spencer, Seasons (New York: Paulist, 1982). 6 For a description of contemporary structuralists (Lawrence Kohlberg, Carol Gilligan, James Fowler, Robert Kegan), see James W. Fowler, Stages of Faith: The Psychology of Human Development and the Quest for Meaning (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1981), pp. 37-116; Fowler, Becoming Adult, pp. 37-47. 7 Daniel A. Helminiak, Spiritual Development (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1987), pp. 29-42. September-October 1992 657 8 Joann Wolski Corm and Walter E. Corm, "Christian Spiritual Growth and Developmental Psychology," The Way Supplement 69 (1990): 3-13. 9 Helminiak, Spiritual Development, pp. 143-158. ~0 For an excellent treatment of the mentally retarded, see Mary Therese Harrington, A Place for All: Mental Retardation, Catechesis, and Liturgy (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1992). The Chess Game It seems you never give up needling away at my defenses. You come to me ready to play a game of chess where you are the seasoned player, and L the fumbling novice. Sometimes you move all at once your strategically placed artillery, leaving me helpless soon after the confrontation has begun. On other occasions you will move, with well-&ought-out expertise, your black knight too near the weakest part of my citadel. You know from past maneuvers I tend to abandon the safety of my ramparts in my hasty efforts to capture him. In the process I give you the liberty to rush into my undefended heart, capturing, as a victory prize, any false god who resides there. When you play, you are never content with a pawn or queen of mine. You want them all! Richard Heatley FSC 658 Review for Religious ROBERT E MALONEY Listening as the Foundation for Spirituality Each morning he wakes me to hear, to listen like a disciple. The Lord Yahweh has opened my ear. Isaiah YO:4-Y manuals on the spiritual life, and even in the classics? One searches in vain for a chapter on listening in the writings of St. Benedict or St. Ignatius or even in the writings of very practical, concretely oriented saints like Francis de Sales and Vincent de Paul. One comes up empty too in Luis de Granada and Rodriguez and in later widely used treatises on spirituality like Tanquerey. Listening, of course, enters these writings implicitly under many headings. But if one considers listening the foundation for spirituality, one might have expected it to stand out in greater relief. This article proposes some reflections on listening as the foundation of spirituality. It will examine, in a preliminary way: (1) listening in the New Testament; (2) listening as the foundation for all spirituality; (3) some echoes of the theme in the history of spirituality; (4) the contrast between an implicit and an explicit theme; (5) some ramifications today. Christian listening begins, of course, with the Old Testament, R6bert P. Maloney CM writes from Rome, where he serves as a mem-ber of the general administration of the Vincentian Fathers and Brothers. His address is Congregazione della Missione; Via dei Capasso, 30; 00164 Roma, Italy. September-October 1992 659 Maloney ¯ Listening where listening plays a vital role, especially in the Deuteronomic and prophetic traditions. Yahweh often complains that, when he speaks, his people "do not listen." Conversely, the prophets are preeminent listeners; they hear what Yahweh has to say and then speak in his name. "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening," says the boy Samuel as he begins his prophetic career. Listening recurs again and again in the New Testament, where a study of Johannine literature, for instance, would reveal listening as the key to eter-nal life. "Whoever is of God listens to every word God speaks. The reason you do not hear is that you are not of God . If someone is true to my word he shall never see death" On 8:47, 51). Listening in Luke's Gospel In Luke's Gospel the listening theme is quite explicit. For Luke, as for the entire New Testament, God takes the initiative through his word, which breaks into the world as good news call-ing for human attention and response. Mary the model listener. As with almost all the important themes in Lukan theology, the listening theme is introduced in the infancy narratives. These narratives provide a summary of the theology that Luke will weave through his Gospel. The listening theme is among the most prominent Lukan motifs (parenthetically, one might add that in Luke's Gospel another theme is at work in many of the listening stories; contrary to the expected cultural patterns of the writer's time, a woman is the model listener presented to the reader). Mary is evangelized in Luke's first two chapters. She is the first to hear the good news. She is the ideal disciple, the model for all believers. Mary listens reflectively to Gabriel, who announces the good news of God's presence and tells her of the extraordinary child whom she is to bear; to Elizabeth, who proclaims her blessed among women because she has believed that the word of the Lord would be fulfilled in he~; to shepherds, who tell her and others the message which has been revealed to them about the child, the good news that a Savior is born; to Simeon, who proclaims a song of praise for the salvation that has come to all nations and a prophecy that ominously forebodes the cross; to Anna, who praises God in Mary's presence and keeps speaking to all who are ready to hear; to Jesus himself, who tells her about his relationship with his heavenly Father, which must take precedence over everything. 660 Review for Religious Luke pictures Mary as listening to the Angel Gabriel with wonderment, questioning what it might mean, deciding to act on it, and afterwards meditating on the mystery of God's ways, reflecting on them in her heart. The theme of listening later in Luke's Gospel. Luke uses three brief stories to illustrate this theme of listening discipleship, namely, that those who listen to the word of God and act on it are the true followers of Jesus. (1) His mother and brothers came to be with him, but they could not reach him because of the crowd. He was told, "Your mother and your brothers are standing outside and they wish to see you." He told them in reply, "My mother and my brothers are those who listen to the word of God and act upon it" (8:19-21). In this story Luke changes the Markan emphasis (cf. Mk 3:31- 35) radically. While Mark depreciates the role of Jesus' mother and relatives, Luke extols it, echoing his first two chapters and show-ing that Mary is the ideal disciple, who listens to God's word and acts on it. (2) On their journey Jesus entered a village where a woman named Martha welcomed him to her home. She had a sis-ter named Mary, who seated herself atthe Lord's feet and listened to his words. Martha, who was busy with all the details of hospitality, came to him and said, "Lord are you not concerned that my sister has left me to do the household tasks all alone? Tell her to help me." The Lord in reply said to her: "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and upset about many things; one thing only is required. Mary has chosen the better portion and she shall not be deprived of it" (10:38-42). Even though Jesus' statement about the one thing necessary has been subject to innumerable interpretations, there is little doubt about the point of this story in the context of Luke's Gospel. Mary has chosen the better part because she is sitting at Jesus's feet and listening to his words, just as any true disciple does. While there are many other themes in the story (such as the role of women and the role of the home-church in early Christianity, which is reinforced here through a Lukan addition), Luke empha-sizes the basis of discipleship: listening to the word of God. That is the better part (see Lk 8:4-21). (3) While he was saying this a woman from the crowd called out "Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that September- October 1992 661 Maloney ¯ Listening nursed you! . Rather," he replied, "blest are they who lis-ten to the word of God and keep it." This passage interrupts, rather puzzlingly, a series of contro-versies that Jesus is involved in during the journey to Jerusalem. But Luke inserts it to clarify the meaning of discipleship once more: real happiness does not lie in physical closeness to Jesus, nor in blood relationship with him, but in listening to the word of God and acting on it. Listening as the Basis for Spirituality All spirituality revolves around self-transcendence. As a work-ing definition for spirituality, we might use one proposed by Sandra Schneiders: "The experience of consciously striving to integrate one's life in terms not of isolation and self-absorption but of self-transcendence toward the ultimate value one per-ceives." l For Christians spirituality involves "putting on the Lord Jesus Christ" (Rm 13:14), "giving away one's life rather than saving it up" (Mk 8:35, Mt 16:25, Lk 9:24, Jn 12:25), and other phrases that imply self-transcendence. The self is not obliterated through self-transcendence; rather, it becomes fully actualized.2 That is the Christian paradox: in giving oneself, one finds one's true self. In that sense authentic love of God, of the neighbor, and of self come together. Authors put this in different ways. For Bernard Lonergan self-transcendence occurs in the radical drive of the human spirit, which yearns for meaning, truth, value, and love. Authenticity, then, "results from long-sustained exercise of attentiveness, intel-ligence, reasonableness, responsibility.''3 For Karl Rahner the human person is the event of the absolute self-communication of God. In his foundational works Rahner describes the human per-son as essentially a listener, one who is always awaiting a possible word of revelation. Only in Jesus, the self-communication of God, is the human person ultimately fulfilled. At the core of the his-torical human person is a gnawing hunger for the other, for abso-lute Value. A particular spirituality is a way in which this longing for the absolute is expressed.4 But this inner yearning for truth and love, this "reaching out," as Henri Nouwen expresses it, can only be satisfied by a word from without--spoken or enfleshed--that reveals what true 662 Review for Religious humanity really is. In the human person the fundamental dispo-sition for receiving that word or Word is listening. It is worth notirig here that Genesis, the wisdom books, and the Johannine tradition all seize on the concept of the Word as the way in which God initiates and breaks into human history. The creating word bears within it its own immediate response: "Let there be light, and there was light." But the word spoken to the human person, who in God's image and likeness rules with free-dom over all creation, must be listened to and responded to freely. Of course, listening here is used in the broadest sense. It includes seeing, hearing, sensing, feeling, perceiving. "Attentiveness" might serve as the term for the various ways in which the human person is ready to grasp what comes from with-out. Listening in this sense is the indispensable precondition for self-transcendence. Without it the word that comes from without goes unheard, the truth that draws the human mind to a vision beyond itself goes unperceived, the love that seeks to capture the heart goes unrequited. Is this why the saints have so stressed the importance of lis-tening in prayer? ls this why obedience has played such an influ-ential role in the tradition of religious communities? Is this why the seeking of counsel has always been regarded as one of the signs of true wisdom? Is this why the Word made flesh and the word of God in the Scriptures are at the center of all Christian spiritual-ity? Is this why the reading of the Scriptures in the liturgy and communion with the Word himself in his self-giving, sacrificial love are "the source and summit" of genuine Christian living? Listening in Vincent de Paul One can find echoes of the listening theme in many tradi-tions. Ignatian discernment, which has exerted such a forceful influence on the countless people who have made the Spiritual Exercises since the sixteenth century, is a means of listening atten-tively to what God is saying and allowing God's word to work conversion within us. Francis de Sales, whose Introduction to the Devout Life has been read by millions since its first publication in 1609, spoke of the need to "be devoted to the word of God whether you hear it in familiar conversation with spiritual friends or in sermons." He urged his readers, "Always listen to it with attention."5 September-October 1992 663 Maloney ¯ Listening Here, however, I will focus briefly on another seventeenth-century figure, Vincent de Paul, whose writings are less well known, but whose charism has influenced enormous numbers of men and women, not only in the two communities he founded (the Vincentians and the Daughters of Charity), but in other com-munities that have sprung up under his inspiration, and also in the hundreds of thousands of Ladies of Charity and St. Vincent de Paul Society members throughout the world. The central place of listening in spirituality is not explicit in the conferences and writings of St. Vincent. But the spirituality he proposes includes several key themes in which the importance of listening is evident. Humility the Foundation of Evangelical Perfection Vincent calls humility "the foundation of all evangelical per-fection and the core of the spiritual life.''6 For him truly humble people see everything as gift. The humble recognize that God is seeking to enter their lives again and again so that he may speak to them. They are alert, they listen for God's word, they are eager to receive God's saving love. The humble know that the truth which sets them free comes from without: through God's word, through the cries of the poor, through the church, through the community in which they live. There is probably no theme that St. Vincent emphasized more. He described humility as the origin of all the good that we do.7 He told the Daughters of Charity: "If you establish your-selves in it, what will happen? You will make this company a par-adise, and people will rightly say that it is a group of the happiest people on earth . ,,8 Humility and listening are closely allied in that listening is the basic attitude of those who know that fullness of life, salvation, wisdom, truth, and love come from without. Brother Robineau, Vincent's secretary, whose reflections about the saint have just been published, notes that this attitude was especially evident in Vincent's conversations with the poor, with whom he would sit and converse with great friendliness and humility.9 St. Vincent loved to call the poor the real "lords and mas-ters" ,0 in the church. It is they especially who must be listened to and obeyed. In the reign of God, the world of faith, they are the kings and queens; we are the servants. Recognizing the special 664 Review for Religious place of the poor in the new order established by Jesus, Vincent was eager not only that his followers would serve and evangelize the poor, but also that they would hear God speaking in those they served or, as we would put it today, that they would allow themselves to be evangelized.1~ Reading Sacred Scripture St. Vincent was convinced that the word of God never fails. It is like "a house built upon rock.''~2 He therefore begins each chapter of his rule and many individual paragraphs with a citation from Scripture. He asks the members of the Congregation of the Mission to read a chapter of the New Testament every day. He wants them to listen to the word of God and to make it the foun-dation of all they do: "Let each of us accept the truth of the fol-lowing statement and try to make it our most fundamental principle: Christ's teaching will never let us down, while worldly wisdom always will." ~3 Abelly, Vincent's first biographer, notes, in a colorful passage, how devoted the saint was to listening to the word of God: "He seemed to suck meaning from passages of the Scriptures as a baby sucks milk from its mother, and he extracted the core and sub-stance from the Scriptures so as to be strengthened and have his soul nourished by them--and he did this in such a way that in all his words and actions he appeared to be filled with Jesus Christ.''~4 "Obeying" Everyone The word "obedience" (ob + audire = to listen thoroughly) is related etymologically to the word "listen" (audire). For St. Vincent the role of obedience in community was clearly very important. But he also extended obedience beyond its usual mean-ing, that all are to obey the legitimate commands of superiors. Using a broadened notion of obedience, he encouraged his fol-lowers to listen to and obey everyone, so that they might hear more fully what God is saying and act on it: Our obedience ought not limit itself only to those who have the right to command us, but ought to strive to move beyond that . Let us therefore consider everyone as our superior and so place ourselves beneath them and, even more, beneath the least of them, outdoing them in defer-ence, agreeableness, and service.Is September-October 1992 665 Maloney ¯ Listening~ Obedience moreover, is not the duty of subjects alone, but of superiors too. In fact, superiors should be the first to obey, by listening to the members well and by seeking counsel: "There would be nothing more beautiful in the world, my daughter, than the Company of the Daughters of Charity if. obedience flour-ished everywhere, with the sister servant the first to obey, to seek counsel, and to submit herself." 16 An Implicit Theme vs. an Explicit One It is clear that listening plays a significant, even if unaccented, role in each of the themes described above. The importance of lis-tening is not, therefore, a "forgotten truth" (to use Karl Rahner's phrase) in the writings of Ignatius Loyola, or Francis de Sales, or Vincent de Paul, or in the overall spiritual tradition; neither, however, is it a central one. Therein lie two dangers. First, truths that remain secondary or merely implicit run the risk of being underemphasized or distorted. For example, reading a chapter of the word of God daily can degenerate into fulfilling an obligation or studying a text unless listening attentively retains its preeminent place. Likewise, the practice of humility, when distorted, can result in subservience to the voices without and deafness to the voices within, where God also speaks. In such a cir-cumstance, "humility" might mask lack of courage in speaking up, deficient self-confidence, or a negative self-image. A distorted emphasis on obedience can cause subjects to listen exclusively to superiors, no matter what other voices might say, even voices that conscience demands that we listen to. Conversely, it could cause a superior to insist loudly that he only has to "listen" to the advice of others, .not follow it (whereas in such instances he may usu-ally listen to almost no one but himself). But when listening retains a place at the center, the danger of distortion is lessened. Reading the word of God, practicing humility, and obeying are seen as means for hearing what God is saying. The accent remains on attentiveness. Second, when the importance of listening is underempha-sized, there is a subtle tendency to focus on particular practices to the detriment of others or to be attentive to certain voices while disregarding others. For instance, a member of a community might pray mightily, seeking to discern what God is saying, but pay little attention to what a superior or spiritual director who 666 Review for Religious knows the person well is trying to say. He or she may listen "tran-scendentally" or "vertically," so to speak, but show little concern for listening "horizontally." Along similar lines, a superior might be very confident that, because of the grace of his office, God lets him know what his will is, while other persons, by the grace of their office, are desperately trying to signify to the same supe-rior that God is saying something quite different. The simple truth is that we must listen to many voices since God speaks to us in many ways. Some of these ways are obviously privileged, but none has an exclusive hold on the truth. Some Ramifications In his wonderful book on community, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote: The first service that one owes to others in the community consists in listening to them. Just as love of God begins by listening to his Word, so the beginning of love for the brethren is learning to listen to them. It is because of God's love for us that he not only gives us his Word but also lends us his ear. So it is his work that we do for our brother when we learn to listen to him. Christians, especially ministers, so often think they must always contribute something when they are in the company of others, that this is the one ser-vice they have to render. They forget that listening can be a greater service than speaking. Many people are looking for an ear that will listen. They do not find it among Christians, because these Christians are talking where they should be listening. But he who can no longer listen to his brother will soon be no longer listening to God either, he will be doing nothing but prattle in the presence of God too. This is the beginning of the death of the spiritual life. 17 If listening is so crucial to healthy spirituality, then how might members of communities grow in it, both as individuals and in common? Listening as Individuals From reflection on the church's long spiritual tradition, one might glean a number of qualities that characterize good listen-ers. Here I will touch briefly on four, which seem to me crucial for better listening. The first indispensable quality for good listening is humiliW. September- October 1992 667 It is "the foundation of all evangelical perfection, the core of the spiritual life," as Vincent de Paul put it.is Humble people sense their incompleteness, their need for God and other human per-sons. So they listen. Humility acknowledges that everything is gift; it sees clearly that all good things come from God. St. Vincent writes to a priest of the Mission: "Because we recognize that this abundant grace comes from God, a.grace which he keeps on giving only to the humble who realize that all the good done through them comes from God, I beg him with all my heart to give you more and more the spirit of humility." t9 But consciousness of one's incompleteness has a further dimension. It is not only "vertical," so to speak, but "horizontal"; we depend not only on God direcdy, but on God's creation around us. Truth, then, comes from listening not only to God himself, but to other human persons, through whom God's presence and words are mediated to us. The hunger for truth and love that lie at the heart of the mystery of the human person is satisfied only from without. We are inherently social, living within a complex network of relationships with individuals and with society. It is only when what is heard is pondered that its full mean-ing is revealed. The second quality necessary for better listening, then, is prayerful reflectiveness. While at times one can hear God speak even in a noisy crowd, it is often only in silence that one hears the deepest voices, that one plumbs the depth of meaning. The Psalmist urges us: "Be still and know that I am God" (Ps 46:10). The Gospels, particularly Luke's, attest that Jesus turns to his Father again and again in prayer to listen to him and to seek his will. Prayer is then surely one of the privileged ways of lis-tening. But it must always be validated by life. One who listens to "what God is telling me" in prayer, but who pays little heed to what others are saying in daily life, is surely suspect. Prayer must be in continual contact with people and events, since God speaks not only in the silence of our hearts, but also (and often first of all) in the people around us. Because prayer is a meeting with God himself, what we say in prayer is much less important than what God says to us. When there is too much emphasis on what we say or do during prayer, it can easily become a "good work," an "achievement," a "speech," rather than a "grace," a "gift," a "gratuitous word" from God. 668 Review for Religious Naturally, prayer, like all human activities, involves structures, personal discipline, persevering effort. But the emphasis must always be on the presence of the personal God, to whose word we must listen attentively as he speaks to us the good news of his love for us and for others. In an era when there is much noise, where the media, if we so choose, speak to us all day long, one must surely ask: Are we able to distinguish the voice of God among the many voices that are speaking? Is God's word able to say "new things" to us? Are we still capable of wonder? As may be evident to the reader, the word wonder has an etymological kinship, through German, with wound. Is the word of God able to wound us, to pen-etrate the membrane that seals us off, that encloses us within ourselves? Can it break into our consciousness and change us? The third necessary quality is respect for the words of human persons. It is here perhaps that the tradition was weakest. It did emphasize humility. It Prayer must be in continual contact with people and events, since God speaks not only in the silence of our hearts, but also in the people around us. did accent the need to hear what God is saying and to discern his will. But it rarely focused explicitly, in the context of spirituality, on the central place of listening to other people. Many contemporary documents put great emphasis on the dignity of human persons and on the importance of hearing the cries that come from their hearts. Vatican II's Gaudium et Spes and the encyclical Redemptor Hominis see the human person as the center of creation,z° Centesimus Annus puts it strikingly: "Today the church's social doctrine focuses especially on man . ,,2~ Respect for human persons acknowledges that God lives in them and that he reveals himself in and through them. It acknowl-edges that words of life come from the lowly as well as the pow-erful. In fact, St. Vincent became gradually convinced that "the poor have the true religion" and that we must be evangelized by them.22 Many of the recently published texts of Brother Louis Robineau, which relate his pe,rsonal experience of Vincent de Paul, attest to the saint's deep, respect for persons of all types. September-October 1992 669 Maloney ¯ Listening Attentiveness is an indispensable means for creating authentic communities. Robineau notes how well Vincent listened to them: poor and rich, lay and clerical, peasant and royal.23 In this context, the process of questioning persons that is involved in the quest for truth takes on a new light. When there is deep respect for all human persons, questioning involves a genuine search for enlightenment, rather than being, in some hidden way, refutation or accusation. Questioning is a tool for delving deeper, for unpeeling layers of meaning, for knowing the other person bet-ter, for digging toward the core of the truth. As we attempt to develop increasing respect for human persons, surely we must ask some challenging questions. Are we really able to hear the cries of the poor, of the most oppressed: the women and chil-dren, who are often the poorest members of society; those discriminated against because of race, color, nationality, religion; the AIDS victims, who are often shunned by their families and by the physically healthy; those on the "edges of life," the helpless infants and the helpless aged, who are unable to speak for themselves? Are we able to hear the counsel given to us by others: by spiritual directors, by members of our own com-munities, by the documents of the church and our own religious congregations? Are we sensitive to the contributions that come from other sources of human wisdom (like economics, sociology, the audiovisual media, the massive data now available in com-puterized form) that often speak concretely about the needs of the poor, that can help us find and combat the causes of poverty or that can assist us in the new evangelization called for by the church? Are we alert, "listening," to the "signs of the times": the increasing gap between the rich and the poor and the repeated call for justice made by the church; the movement toward unity within global society, which is now accompanied by an opposite movement toward separatism and nationalism; the growth of the church in the southern hemisphere, which contrasts with its diminishment in many places in the northern hemisphere. The fourth quality needed is attentiveness, one of the most important signs of respect for the human person. It is the first step in all evangelization, the prerequisite for serving Christ in the poor. It is only when the servant is attentive to the needs of the master (in this case, the poor person) that he really knows what to 670 Review for Religious bring him. It is only when the evangelizer is alert to the needs of the listener that she is able to communicate genuinely good news. Attentiveness is an indispensable means for creating authen-tic communities. If community members do not pay close atten-tion to the opinions and needs of those they live with, each person becomes isolated even if still physically present to others. Those living in community must therefore continually seek renewed ways of listening to each other and of sharing their prayer, their apostolic experience, their struggles in community, their successes and failures, their joys and sorrows. Attentiveness is also of the greatest importance as one seeks counsel. Robineau relates how often St. Vincent asked others their' opinion about matters at hand, "even the least in the house." He often heard him say that "four eyes are better than two, and six better than four.''24 Robineau relates an interesting incident in this regard: One day he did me the honor of telling me that it was nec-essary to make it our practice, when consulting someone about some matter, always to recount everything that would be to the advantage of the opposing party without omitting anything, just as if it were the opposing party itself that was there to give its reasons and defend itself, and that it was thus that consultations should be carried out.zs Listening in Community Meetings, along with consultations and questionnaires of var-ious sorts, are among the primary means of listening in commu-nity. Like most realities, meetings are "for better or for worse." Almost all of us have experienced some that we find very fruitful and others that we would be happy to forget about. To put it in another way, meetings can be a time of grace or a time when sin threatens grace. Communities, like individuals, can become caught up in them-selves. A healthy self-concern can gradually slip into an unhealthy self-preoccupation. Outgoing zeal can be replaced by self-cen-tered security seeking. Communities can be rescued from this state, in a way analogous to that of individuals, only through cor-porate humility,26 a communal effort to listen to God and com-munal attentiveness to the words of others. September-October 1992 671 Maloney ¯ Listening Meetings can be a time when sin threatens grace. When there is no listening, they create strife and division. They disrupt rather than unify. They deepen the darkness rather than focus the light. Among the signs that sin is at work in meetings is fighting. When participants do not listen, there is inevitable strife, bad feelings, disillusionment, bitterness. Such meetings result in fleeing. The group backs away from major decisions, especially those that demand some conversion; it refuses to listen to the prophets; it seeks refuge in the status quo. A further consequence is fractur-ing. When participants do not listen, badly divided splinter groups form; the "important" conversations take place in the corridors rather than in the meeting hall; politics, in the worst sense, takes the place of discernment. Meetings can be an opportunity for grace. They provide us with a wonderful opportunity for listening and discernment. They enable communities to work toward decisions together, as a com-munity. In order for this to happen, those who meet must be com-mitted to sharing their common heritage, creating a climate of freedom for discussion, and planning courageously for the future. In meetings where God is at work, we recall our heritage in order to renew it. We listen to and retell "our story." We recount and rehear the deeds of the Lord in our history. We celebrate our gratitude in the Eucharist and let thanksgiving fill our hearts, for we have heard the wonderful works of the Lord. We share com-munal prayer and reflection because the faith of others strength-ens us. The atmosphere will be grace-filled if all are eager to listen to each other. If all arrive without hardened positions and preju-dices, convinced that the group must seek the truth together, then the groundwork for the emergence of truth has already been laid. The content, no matter how concrete or seemingly pedes-trian, will be grace-filled if all hear the word of God together, listen to each other's reflections on that word, and make deci-sions on that basis. The decisions of a listening community will flow from its heritage while developing the heritage in the light of contemporary circumstances.27 Meetings play an important role within God's providence. God provides for the growth of communities through wise deci-sions that govern their future, especially the training of the young, the ongoing formation of all members, and care for the aging. But such decisions can be made only if the members of the com- 672 Review for Religious munity are willing to listen to the data that describes its present situation and projects its future needs. Communal decision mak-ing, based on realistic projections, is one of the ways in which providence operates in community life. Failure to listen to the data--difficult though it may sometimes be to "hear" it honestly-- results in calamitous "blindness" and "deafness." The listening individual and the listening community will surely grow, for listening is the foundation of all spirituality. To the listener come truth, wisdom, the assurance of being loved. To those who fail to listen comes increasing isolation. Jesus, like the prophets, knew that listening made demands and consequently was often lacking. He lamented its absence: "Sluggish indeed is this people's heart. They have scarcely heard with their ears, they have firmly closed their eyes; otherwise they might see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and under-stand with their hearts, and turn back to me, and I should heal them" (Mt 13:15). He also rejoiced in its presence: "But . . . blessed are your ears because they hear" (Mt 13:16). In recent years many congregations have attempted to assist individuals, local communities, and assemblies to listen better, In workshops much effort has been put into fostering practical lis-tening skills. But are there ways in which communities, particu-larly during initial formation, can better communicate the importance of listening as foundational for growth? If listening is the foundation of all spirituality, as this article has tried to show, then it is crucial for personal growth and for the vitality of all communities. Notes ~ Sandra Schneiders, "Spirituality in the Academy," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 684. 2 See Ga 2:19-21: "I have been crucified with Christ, and the life I live now is not my own: Christ is living in me. Of course, I still live my human life, but it is a life of faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." The Greek text identifies Jesus as the self-giving one. It also makes it clear that self-transcendence does not wipe out true human-ity, but fulfills it. 3 Bernard Lonergan, A Third Collection, ed. Frederick Crowe (New York: Paulist, 1985), p. 9. 4 See K. Rahner, Grundkurs des Glaubens (Freiburg: Herder, 1984), pp. 35f, 42f. Septewtber-October 1992 673 Maloney ¯ Listening s Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, trans. John K. Ryan (New York: Doubleday, 1972), pp. 107 and 108. 6 Common Rules H, 7. 7 SV IX, 674; see Common Rules H, 7. 8 SV X, 439. 9 Andrd Dodin, ed., Monsieur Vincent racontdpar son secrdtaire (Paris: O.E.I.L., 1991), §46 and §54. 10 See SVIX, 119; X, 332. 1~ See Evangelii Nuntiandi, §15. 12 Common Rules H, 1. ,3 Ibid. 14 Abelly, Book III, 72-73. ~s SV XI, 69. ~6SV IX, 526. ~7 D. Bonhoeffer, Life Together (London: SCM Press, 1954), p. 75. ~Common Rules H, 7. 19 SV I, 182. 20 Gaudium et Spes, §§9, 12, and 22; Redemptor Hominis, passim. 21 Centesimus Annus, ~54. 22 SV XII, 171. 23 Andrd Dodin, ed., Monsieur Vincent racont? par son secrdtaire (Paris: O.E.LL., 1991), especially §§71-83. 24 Ibid, §52. 25 Ibid, §118. 26 Vincent de Paul repeatedly emphasized the need for corporate humility if the congregations he founded were to grow. See SV II, 233: "I think the spirit of the Mission must be to seek its greatness in lowli-ness and its reputation in the love of its abjection." 27 In his essays on spirituality, Karl Rahner distinguishes between "material" and "formal" imitation of Christ. In material imitation, one seeks to do the concrete things that Jesus did, ignoring the extent to which everything he did was influenced by his social context. In formal imitation, one seeks to find the core meaning of what Jesus said or did and apply it within the changed social context. 674 Review for Religious JOHN WICKHAM Two Key Transitions in Spiritual Growth Both in coming to understand our own spiritual develop-ment and (should we be engaged in spiritual direction) in reflecting on where a directee of ours may presently be moving, a sense of the various kinds of transition that often occur can be a great help. I assume here that spiritual growth (changes, new data) are to be expected, are even to be sought. Quite a number of transitions are possible. One can move, for example, from a life of mortal sin to a life of sanctifying grace, from a rather legalistic reliance on external rules to a life of per-sonal choices; or, at the other end of the spectrum, one can move from a devout life to a life of advanced mystical prayer. But two other transitions deserve, I think, special attention today. The two developments I have in mind are often at issue in the Spiritual Exercises ofSt. Ignatiushone of them in the First and Second Weeks taken as a whole, and the other in the unit formed by the Third and Fourth Weeks. In his active spirituality St. Ignatius may be said to have reshaped the "Three Ways" (purgative, illuminative, unitive) into two spiritual transitions, each of which reveals both a negative and a positive side. This essay will attempt to describe and study these two major movements that occur in many dedicated lives. After each of them has been clarified, their relationship and especially their differ-ences will require comment. John Wickham sJ is director of the Ignatian Centre of Spirituality, which prepares and accredits directors. His address is 4567 West Broadway; Montreal, Quebec H4B 2A7; Canada. Septentber-October 1992 675 The First Transition Assuming, as St. Ignatius does at the start of his First Week Rules for Discernment, that we are in touch with persons living a good Christian life, striving to get free of sinful ways and to grow into closer union with God, then this first important tran-sition may be seen to move from relying mainly on getting emo-tional satisfaction to discerning spiritual consolations received from the Lord and felt in the heart. This formulation makes a contrast between emotions and feelings (or felt knowing). Emotions in this usage refer to per-sonal responses to objects in the external world around us (through our five senses) and to interpersonal events in our social setting. There is nothing wrong, of course, with emotional expe-riences. Emotions are often the main stuff of human life. In their endless varieties they fill most of our daily hours. We wake up in one mood and at night perhaps we drift off to sleep in the grip of another. Between times we may be surprised by shifts and changes of emotion or brood over a lingering mystery of emotional confusion. Persons without emotional reactions are hard to bear. We might wonder if they suffer from some disorder. But perhaps their emotions are not warm and pleasant but of the cold, off-putting kind. Whatever their nature, we can be sure that our emotional responses provide the real texture of human life. In themselves they are part and parcel of God's creation. And like other creatures they may be put to good use or they may get us into trouble. Returning to the formula given above, what needs emphasis at this point is the habit of relying too much on emotional satisfac-tions. When we habitually demand to be satisfied emotionally, we become blocked against further spiritual growth. We can become stuck right there. Without realizing the fact, we may be expect-ing God to deliver emotional satisfaction to us and we get angry when God fails to do so. We pray, in effect, a self-centered prayer, "my will be done on earth--not Thine!" While nothing is wrong with emotions in themselves, we can put too much stock in them. Let us be honest, many of us do so a good part of the time. We come to rely almost entirely on our own emotional states. If they are satisfying, "God is good!" If not, "God has rejected me!"--or we imagine things are going wrong. 676 Revie'w for Religious One of the major troubles of social life is to have others inflict their moods on us--because they tend to interpret the nature of reality in terms of current emotions. "The emotion that grips me now tells me who I am and what the world is doing to me." Even if we can avoid inflicting our emo-tional state on others, we still often experience the world in accord with our emotional state at the moment. As the poet Pope tells us, "All looks yellow to the jaundiced eye"--and the world looks rosy through rose-colored glasses. Our emotions easily become a lens that colors our world--for the time they last. This is often how we are as we begin our spiritual journey. There is nothing very surprising about it. And so a well-known stage of purification consists in getting free of emotional demands. First comes the step of noticing our emotional reactions, of naming them as they occur, and of refusing to identify our being with their con-tinuance. In order to become liberated from their insistent claim upon us, we learn to do small penances. In the past there has often been a danger of coming to despise our own emotions--an undesirable side-effect when struggling to gain freedom by willpower alone from these emotional claims. ~Without further treatment of that point, I merely note here the need to avoid puritanical efforts in this transition. We are dealing with spiritual growth, which is always initiated and brought about by divine grace. We do, of course, need to cooperate with such graces, and small penitential acts are forms of cooperation. But our highly emotive personal responses are right and true in themselves. Even if emotional self-denial is necessary for a cer-tain time, we will need to return to our emotions just as soon as we can get free of their tyranny. Then they may become, not only right and true, but beautiful and even holy. Emotional self-denial is only a temporary ploy within a larger movement of growth, not the main aim of the spiritual life. An egotistical tendency (if it is present) to invest our sense of self mainly in our emotional satisfactions needs to be purified during the First Week exercises. That is, of course, a rather sub-jective way of approaching the areas of sinfulness that call for purification, but it seems appropriate here because I am focus- When we habitually demand to be satisfied emotionally, we become blocked against further spiritual growth. September-October 1992 677 ,Wick~ ham ¯ Key Transitions,, ing on interior transitions. The Rules for Discernment them-selves lay heavy stress on the desolations to be expected in a per-son striving to move forward, and on the need to persevere in that intention despite the losses of emotional satisfaction that may be experienced. Spiritual Feeling In the more positive phases of the continuing transition, spir-itual consolations arising from moments of union with Jesus the Lord may make their presence felt as one enters the Second Week of the Exercises. It is assumed at this point that exercitants have already heard the call of Christ to follow him and have responded (with varying degrees of enthusiasm) to that summons. And dur-ing the contemplations of the public life that follow, each one must learn how to discern true from false consolations. An elementary principle to be noted here is that consolations of the Lord are not to be identified as "feeling good" and deso-lations as "feeling bad." Many today use the term "feeling" in a general sense that includes (or mainly denotes) what I have described above as emotions. That is a defensible usage, but in this essay I wish to separate the term "feelings" from the term "emo-tions" as already defined. I want to cast light on the rather dif-ferent movements we may experience at a deeper, more interior level of our being. In other words, I wish to define feeling (an enduring state) and feelings (momentary events or "touches") as personal responses that occur at our spiritual center in the core of our being, and not primarily in our social world. Humans may be said to enjoy a double-leveled awareness, one with outer and inner dimensions. In this discussion I am using emotions to refer to responses at the outer level, and feeling to refer to responses at the inner level. Quite correctly, it should be insisted that outer and inner lev-els are continually interacting together. Whena sudden event moves us wholly, it is often true that emotions and feelings are impossible to distinguish. Tears start from our eyes, our heart is fully engaged, we cry out with joy or sorrow, we even experience sensations in our body (waves of heat or cold, tingling of the spine, pressures in hands or feet, a burning forehead, and so on). Similar points may be made about calmer experiences as well. 678 Review for Religious In fact, it is normal for human beings to "sense" a two-way intercourse between outer and inner events, between what occurs in the social world and simultaneously in the interior feeling. Our reflective capacity, which is not merely mental but also passion-ate, is precisely what makes our awareness human. Our con-sciousness is multidimensional. While we know and feel, we also know we are knowing and feeling. And when we respond emo-tionally, we are aware at the same time of various intuitions under-lying our most emphatic emotions. Even when we "forget our self" in some activity or other, that welcome effect is considered unusual--an exception to the rule, and never total. Besides, an egotistical self-awareness is not the only kind of selfhood we may experience. We may be full of self-doubt, for example, or eagerness, or mistrust, or calm happiness, and so on. The Inner Self All the same, what is transpiring in this first transition is pre-cisely a development of interior selfhood. As certain modes of dominance by the outer self are overcome, we receive a new growth of inner self---a very important transition in anyone's life. Today we may take it for granted that the "self" we are talk-ing about, no matter how much trouble it may get us into, is a positive value in its own right, not to be identified with mere self-ishness or false egotism. Only fairly recently did this new assump-tion gain acceptance. For example, in The Imitation of Christ the term "self" was rarely used except in a pejorative sense, and it followed that one's main goal was to get free of it as much as possible. That view continued to be the dominant one until only a few decades ago. The shift that has taken place so recently has brought with it a new sense of the human subject, of selfhood as a valuable reality-- however much it may need to be discovered, owned, purified, and developed. A much stronger awareness of the "inner-self"--at least as a potential reality--has arisen among many members of our secu-lar culture today. Often we know it first for negative reasons: we are hurt, we feel misunderstood, we are unable to communicate our special desires or intentions, we are judged wrongly or become unsure of what we really meant. It causes a great deal of confusion, September-October 1992 679 anger, resentment, and so on. But at some point or other it may dawn on us that, despite the urgent need we may be feeling for much more growth and clarity, our inner self is a reality, valu-able in and for its own simple being. We may begin to experi-ence our own goodness as a fact. It need not, and cannot, be earned or proven. It is just "given." Through faith I may know that my personal existence is received from God who does not choose to make me without lov-ing me. My selfhood is real and my unique being is loved--even holy. That realization is such a remarkable event in anyone's life that it calls for prolonged attention and care during the earlier stages of spiritual growth. Since I assume that the above reality is widely recognized and appreciated today, I wish to focus now upon the kind of transition involved in its realization. An individual coming through that key transition begins to experience things in a personal way that may be called heartfelt. They are spiritual feelings and illuminations in the inner self. These consolations (or desolations) differ noticeably in qual-ity from emotions experienced in the outer, social world. And the transition from relying mainly on emotions to rel~ing mainly upon spiritual consolations (feeling) is a very significant "moment" in one's development. Not a False but a True Self This transition has been the main aim of novitiate programs ii~ recent centuries, although in most cases the novitiate was directed toward the positive adoption of each congregation's way of life. In other words, a single spiritual "style" or mode of oper-ation was proposed for every novice to imitate and put into prac-tice, and what needed to be sacrificed in order to obtain this goal was the ordinary tendency to demand emotional satisfactions for oneself. The self in question was taken to be wholly "selfish" and needed to be "offered up." Today a single spiritual lifestyle imposed on everyone alike has been replaced by "the charism of the founder/foundress" in a way that leaves room for the unique selfhood of each member to receive recognition and approval. As a result, the sense of self in question had to be clarified. The false self, which needs to be purified, is one that demands 680 Revievo for Religious emotional satisfactions and is upset when these are not forth-coming. But the true self, to be realized through penance and pa.tient striving against desolations, is received as a gift from God and recognized in consolations consisting of spiritual feeling and preconceptual knowing (experiences of sentir). A special way of following Christ, modeled in each congre-gation by the founder/foundress, will enable new members to undergo a radical purification of their conscious (or outer) self in the process of identifying their center of being in their heart's core. Members of vowed congregations who were trained in the older system have likely gone through an adjustment of this sort during recent decades. Each one will need to say how he or she has made the required adaptation, if indeed it has taken place, and what precisely was involved. But in general it may be said with some confidence that this first transition, which is of primary importance in spiritual growth, has been clarified as the emergence of an inner self united with the Lord in discipleship. What prevents its growth is usually the habit of expecting or relying upon emotional satisfactions, a habit which must be changed if the desired transition is to take place. Once it has been changed, and soon after the new inner self has grown accustomed to spiritual consolations, a reintegration of the'whole person with her or his emotional responses should then commence. This process will involve the formation of new social habits on the basis of the inner self so recently received from the Lord as a true actuation of one's potential being. The Second Transition An expectation of further growth should not disappear from our purview for too long after the first transition has been com-pleted. True enough, a directee who begins to enjoy true spiritual consolations does require considerable time (perhaps several years) to integrate them and create a new way of life on the basis of the inner self they bring alive. But the moment will inevitably come when remembering past graces will no longer suffice. As soon as signs of this new need begin to appear, the director (if not the directee) ought to recognize them. Such signs may point to the onset of a second, rather different transition. What might signs of this new sort be like? In general, con-solations of "the Second Week type" curiously do not seem to Septentber-October 1992 681 Wickbam ¯ Key Transitions operate "as well as" ones of an earlier stage. In different contexts, we should notice, St. Ignatius employs the same word, "consola-tion," in somewhat different senses. In the First Week, for exam-ple, which deals with persons who seek to be more and more purified from their sins, the ferm simply means experiences lead-ing to closer union with God. But in the Second Week it means experiences of persons bound in close discipleship to the Lord; because these apparent consolations may come from God or from the enemy, they need to be examined much more carefully. It is my contention here that the term is further varied in the Third and Fourth Weeks: if it gains in nuance by moving from the purgative to the illuminative way, we should not be surprised that it varies again in moving to the unitive way. It is usually rather puzzling to find that "what used to make me happy no longer does so." Naturally enough, we normally expect things to continue as they were. But the fact of the matter is that we may change so significantly (because of Our authentic spiritual growth) that what used to console us does not console us any more. Former ways, including ways of praying, that we had first discovered with some difficulty and later came to enjoy with a sense of real progress now seem to leave us cold. They no longer satisfy our hearts, but instead cause a certain malaise or uneasiness. It can be quite disconcerting. What can have gone wrong? At first we may fasten on various explanations: we are not trying hard enough; we have grown com-placent and lack humility; we should return to our former graces with renewed enthusiasm, and so on. But try as we will, the loss of taste, the lack of any real sense of meaning and .value in our usual way of life, continues to bother us. Of course, many different factors may be relevant in the case of each person. But I want to introduce the possibility of a new kind of transition as an important consideration in many cases. If indeed the divine Spirit is moving us to a new stage of growth, then we are obliged to give it some attention. Unitive Experiences Since what I will be describing his to do with the unitive way, let me begin by insisting that this traditional stage of spiritual development is not exceptional, not meant for only a very few persons, and not regularly accompanied by unusual mystical phe- 682 Review for Religious nomena. Unitive graces are an ordinary occurrence in most devout lives, just as are those of the illuminative and purgative ways. (Besides, concretely speaking, even after one has discerned unitive experiences, he or she is not usually separated for very long from renewed moments of purification and illumination. Perhaps one should stress the fact that occasional unitive graces do not mean one is "firmly established" in the unitive way--what-ever that may mean.) It is my conviction that the Third and Fourth Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises cannot be reduced to a "confirmation of Second Week graces." That may be legitimate in many cases, but the limitation ought to be spelled out rather than turned into a general rule. Let me be explicit: a limitation of Third and Fourth Week graces occurs quite legitimately when the individual person has for the first time received graces belonging to the first transition or when a notable deepening of that transition has been granted. In other words, the person's "inner self" has been realized or deep-ened in graces of union with Christ--and this is quite new for this individual. In that case (and it is a very important develop-ment) the Third and Fourth Weeks are likely to consist mainly of graces that confirm the key event that has so recently transformed the person involved. The Passion of Jesus may be shared in many different ways-- even by the same people at different times. I may cling to the cross in a sort of desperation if I am in serious danger of falling into mortal sin. Or during a crisis of decision making or of self-doubt I may dwell in the Garden of Gethsemane. Alternatively, I might find my personal illness or injuries transformed by a new way of sharing in the sufferings of Christ. Or I could accept obsta-cles thrown across my path, get free of resentments that have long bothered me, or deal more creatively with insults and humil-iations that come my way by prayerfully participating in what the Lord endured in his Passion out of love for me. This list could be much extended, but I simply wish to illus-trate here the wide variety of possible experiences we may find. At least a mention may be made of special graces of union with the Passion, such as we may read about in St. Juliana or other spiri-tual writers. Some of these may be clarified in what follows, but my main concern is to speak about Third Week (and Fourth Week) graces in a way that might enable ordinary Christians seek- September-October 1992 683 ~ickham ¯ Key Transitions ing a closer union with the Lord to recognize the possible mean-ing of unitive experiences that may also have been given to them. When the Passion of Christ "confirms" the first transition in the experience of a given directee, then that person's union with the Lord (so recently received or deepened) may be clarified and strengthened through worldly rejections and insults, even when these are taken in prayer to the limit situations of betrayal, impris-onment, violence, condemnation, and death. In other words, one's interior meaning and value as a person created and saved by the Lord and called to his service will become much more surely "known" in consolations received when contemplating the Passion. The Resurrection contemplations, in similar fashion, may confirm the previous grace more positively through experiences of a new way of life operating out of spiritual feelings received in the depths of the inner self. Those "Second Week" consolations may become clarified and strengthened through experiences of union with the risen Lord. Such graces received during the Fourth Week are to be discerned, unless I am mistaken, as confirming the Second Week graces already obtained by the directee. Limiting the Last Two Weeks In short, in these cases (only), confirmation of the Election in the Passion and Resurrection contemplations may be taken as appropriate during the Third and Fourth Weeks. This means that the central grace of the Spiritual Exercises is seen to be one of inti-mate personal union with Jesus (most fully revealed in the Election). What I have called the "first transition" may be rec-ognized as the main event for the individual person one is direct-ing-- even during the last two Weeks. So frequently is this the case today that many directors tend to consider it the only true goal of the Third and Fourth Weeks. But if that is so, then their notion of the unitive way has become dangerously foreshortened. For all practical purposes, it has been subordinated to the purgative and illuminative ways. But if the unitive way is truly a normal dimension in the growth of every devout Christian (as I believe it to be), then its omission from the Spiritual Exercises would be a limitation that raises serious questions. And to restrict unitive graces to a few exceptional persons would, in my opinion, be equally damaging. There is secular evidence to give us pause today. When 684 Review fbr Religious Maslow began to publish his findings on "peak experiences," he was under the impression that only a small number of persons had undergone this type of interior opening. But further research by himself and others produced widespread testimonies to simi-lar events. Eventually he reached the conviction that peak expe-riences of one kind or another are universal, although ignored or repressed by a hardy few. While his concept of "peak experiences" is ambiguous and may refer to quite a wide range of phenomena, his evidence cannot be restricted to what I have named the first transition. What I would like to call the second transition, then, would always assume the previous acquisition of first-transition graces. For example, if we suppose that a directee before making the Spiritual Exercises has already received profound graces of the Second Week type, what would likely occur during the first two Weeks? Usually one would expect the directee to receive confir-matory graces during those meditations and contemplations. But I would add that such prayer experiences might also be prepara-tory to more advanced graces possibly to be offered during Weeks Three and Four. If a director is not open to this possibility, then the fore-shortening of the Exercises, already mentioned, becomes all too likely. And if the more advanced graces of the second transition are actually given, such a director would not know what to make of them. The directee's experiences might easily be misunder-stood and the director could fall into false discernments. I believe that this has in fact occurred far too often. Challenges to a Good Way of Life The reality of spiritual growth reveals how frequendy believ-ers find that God disallows their apparently excellent form of commitment to the divine service. "The rug is pulled out from under their feet," we could say. Let us assume, for the sake of argument here, that the way of life of a given directee is truly unselfish and generous. It has been discerned carefully under direction, and has in fact become fruitful in its apostolic outreach. Is it possible that God might call the individual to surrender, or move away from, this entirely good way of life? Not only is it possible, it ftequendy takes place. A car accident, a heart attack, a financial loss, or social changes intervene to make September-October 1992 685 IVickbam ¯ Key Transitions our chosen course no longer viable. From many (limited) points of view, this makes no sense at all. But the point of view that mat-ters is the divine one--where we are called to believe and trust without knowing why, without making our own merely "common sense views" the final criterion in our discernment. This is what must have challenged Mary, the Mother of Jesus, on that first Holy Saturday. To her way of thinking, what could have been better than the life and teaching of Jesus? And yet its rejection in Israel was permitted by the divine mystery. Mary had to accept that baffling course of events, painful as it was in the extreme, without any "human" understanding of its value. We might say that God asked her to endure a spiritual death in her own heart corresponding exactly with the actual death of her Son. If this line of thought is pushed a little further, of course, we may perceive that the Passion and Death of Jesus was itself most acutely a spiritual death for our Lord himself. Had he not set his heart upon the conversion of Israel whom he desired to gather under his wings as a hen gathers her chicks? But they would not have it so. Instead, he was compelled to accept the rejection of his teachings, and of himself with them, at the hands of those in Israel who were in positions of wealth, prestige, and power. Only a few remained his followers. Jesus embraced this destiny out of love for all his people (including the very ones who were bent on his destruction). Not only did he accept the loss of what he had hoped to gain, but he did so with generosity of spirit. And so the Father raised him to a new role in the course of our history, a role that brought him into direct relation with every nation on earth. That spiritual death, which he so fully accepted, led to a new form of spiritual life for every people--even for ourselves. This, of course, is the pattern set for all of us by our Lord in his paschal mystery. But it should be obvious that we do not reach the fuller modes of participation all at once. Only gradually over many years do the devout followers of Jesus find the path to a more complete union with the Lord in the mystery of divine pur-pose. This does not mean that what we presently do will certainly be taken away during our course of active life (that remains a mystery of the future). It means only that, if we do move forward in union with the Lord, our basic attitude toward what we do and who we are will likely be tested in a more radical way. Even so, 686 Re~ie~ for Religious those who know us externally may not even notice the changes occurring deep within us. But somehow, through threats of illness, accidents, or altered situations that touch each one of us deeply, experiences like those that came upon our Lady and the other disciples of our Lord-- experiences, that is, of a spiritual death corresponding to the actual death embraced by Jesus out of love--will need to be encountered. And if we are graced by the divine love, we may pass through that "radicalization of the paschal mystery" so as to enter into a new kind of life in God--or at least into momentary tastes of it. This is what I mean by unitive graces. The Root of the Matter The term "radicalization" refers to the removal of more deeply rooted barriers to union with the Lord. Negative events similar to the ones mentioned above may occur in our lives, of course, without becoming the occasion of unitive graces. What is assumed here is that advanced graces of purification from sin have already been received, and that graces of intimate discipleship have also been conferred which have enabled well-discerned com-mitments to service of the Lord's kingdom in this world. It is only some years after a first transition has been made that certain neg-ative events may trigger an experience of lost selfhood or lost capacity for going on--even though outwardly one still goes throughthe motions that resemble a normal life. But why is it necessary to "die" to our good interior self in order to "live" in the heights of the spirit? Whatever answers we attempt will necessarily dwell within the mystery of divine union. Does our chosen way of life in its underpinnings somehow tend to place a barrier between ourselves and God? If so, why should that be? Does our most intimate sense of true selfhood always to some degree (because it remains unfinished) hinder us in our encoun-ters with God? Does our entry into utter transcendence always call for a further surrender--and yet never actually deny the validity of our individual and communal being? (These are far from being new questions--they belong to a well-worn tradition.) Sometimes our experiences of union seem to emphasize a oneness that obliterates awareness of distinct selfhood or to bring about a newness of love-identity in the Other that makes us eas- September-October 1992 687 ily forget our usual human longing for recognition as individuals. True. But these passing tastes and their remembered glories refer to unitive graces which at first can stun us with their breakthrough "difference." By this I mean that the experiential qualities tend to capture too much attention at first--they are new to us, very fulfilling, and so ~ometimes a bit extravagant. Nonetheless, the substantial reality of a grace, once given, is never taken away by the Lord even though the experiential aspects are temporary. We remember the experiences, but we are still inwardly changed and even "put together" differently by the substantial character of those gifts. The Way of the Cross In the specific case of unitive graces, however, a prior expe-rience of spiritual death points to another factor. There is no way to Easter, as we know, that does not pass through Calvary. In the terms already used above, this means that radical experiences of union with the risen Lord in the "heights of the spirit" are not possible for us until we have undergone a spiritual death "in the depths of the soul." P~erhaps this factor can be clarified by saying that we are not ready for unitive graces (of the Fourth Week type of consolation) until we have experienced the loss of interior consolations previ-ously given us (Second Week spiritual feelings and illuminations). In terms of selfhood, we might say that we must die (not to any false self, but) to the good "inner self" given to us in the first transition. Only the loss of that very g~od gift can prepare us to receive a "higher self," spiritually communicated to us by the risen Christ in this second transition. In consequence, the two transitions I have been describing are related in the Spiritual Exercises--and beyond them. The "spiritual death" that essentially prepares for the second transition is the experiential loss precisely of the grace already received in the first transition. There can be no second transition, then, if the first has not previously occurred. We should note that the "second kind of humility" is cer-tainly meant for use in the Election. The "third kind of humility," on the other hand, is intended to enable directees--should they actually receive that grace--to move forward into the second tran-sition after their full acceptance of the first. 688 Review for Religious Concretely, of course, this conceptual clarity is muddied by many variations in practice: both transitions may be combined or crossmated, along with backward and forward movements, fre-quent delays and regressions, sudden spurts and more sudden withdrawals--endless "visions and revisions," as Eliot puts it. The actual circumstances do not often present ready-made examples for our mental laboratory. MI the same, our awareness of the "crucial" contrast between the second transition and the first may prove helpful. If the approach taken here is even approximately correct, then we may be assisted in discerning the special qualities of second-transition experiences, especially in their earlier phases (of the Third Week sort). And this may enable us to avoid false strictures on our own or others' responses to these movements of grace. Qualities of the New Life The first transition, then, moves an individual from relying mainly on emotional satisfactions to receiving spiritual consola-tions in the inner self. The sedond transition may be said to move one from a well-accepted habit of interior union with the Lord and a way of life based upon it to a new life received directly from the risen Christ and enabling experiences of a higher self. It remains to suggest various qualities of the higher life that is enabled by unitive graces. First of all, although one's ordinary life, of course, continues, along with it (and not only behind it but also "in among" it) there is known to be a divine presence-- ever so delicate and respectful of one's freedom. That factor may grow more powerful at certain times, but often it remains gentle, although unmistakable. Another feature is a "higher" movement of the Spirit--rather unlike the heartwarming and compelling graces of the first tran-sition (which are usually "deep" and "interior" in quality). It is the awareness of divine mystery operating everywhere, bringing about God's will despite all evidence to the contrary; it is a dis-position to wait for God to reveal the divine will, to expect this and not to be surprised when it comes. It means not to speak until words are given, not to act until one "knows" how the Lord desires to act in the community. These few features may be taken as examples of the higher life (often seen in the lives of the saints). In general, that nothing Septentber-October 1992 689 should prevent God from loving others through my life becomes the central desire of my existence, the main reason for continu-ing to live. It need not, on the other hand, mean that the interior expe-riences of the inner self do not return and are not customary in one who has received unitive graces. It is just that one can no longer identify oneself with them. They are available at times and should be exercised. But they may also be taken away, and one is ready now to let them go. All this is possible because the risen Lord has made his divine presence felt by uplifting one to the level of his own activities in the church, in each person, and in every part of the world. Burning Bush Afire burns outside my bedroom window, October-red euonymus its name. As I look down The blood-red leaves leap up Vivid as living rivulets of flame. Transfixed, ! stand, New-wakened in the early autumn dawn. Then, barefoot, kneel, Obedient, Although no voice is heard. What angel calls me - silent? "Here I am!" I almost cry, Drawn by this shock of unconsuming fire To listen, stricken as Moses, For some name, some quickening word. Therese Lynch csJ 690 Revie'w fbr Religious DAVID E O'CONNOR Seeking a Sense of Direction in a Time of Transition As we try to read the "signs of the times" and prepare for an unknown future, we should not forget the lessons of the past. We should take note of the cultural, theologi-cal, ecclesial, ideological, and generational influences that have moved our personal and collective lives as religious in certain directions. And we should be alert to the factual changes, adjustments, adaptations, and developments which seem to indicate some of the shapes and forms that religious life may be taking as we approach the third mil-lennium. religious life Recalling the Lessons of History Recent historical scholarship has opened our eyes to the uneven history of religious life--a history filled with crises and chaos, with high points and low? Interestingly, there have been relatively short periods of time when the church and religious life appeared to enjoy some institu-tional tranquillity and stability. More than once the whole concept of religious life seemed doomed to extinction by events out of control. Religious in North America, especially during the first part of the twentieth century preceding the Second Vatican David O'Connor ST teaches at the Washington Theological Union. He is the author of Witness and Service: Questions about Religious Life Today (Paulist Press, 1990). His address is 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. Septetttber-October 1992 691 O'Connor ¯ Seeking a Sense of Direction Council, found themselves in one of those rare stable periods in the church. It was a time when the highest leadership in the Roman Catholic Church, beginning in the late nineteenth century and ending only in the middle of the twentieth, had chosen a defensive and protective position, effectively withdrawing from a changing and modern world which, in fact, was often hostile to it. The Catholic Church centralized itself at the Vatican to a degree unknown until then. Within this same period of time, the Catholic Church in the United States developed and flourished.2 American Catholics were, for the most part, an immigrant population that experi-enced the hostility of the WASP (white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant) culture. While retaining a fierce loyalty to Rome, they tried to prove they were loyal Americans as well. For them the Roman Catholic Church appeared to be the model of stability and the rock of certitude. Although the worldwide Catholic Church of this period seemed intransigent, it was, in fact, still recovering from the buf-feting of social and historical changes that had rocked it at the end of the eighteenth century and into the nineteenth. Following the French Revolution, religious life and many other institutions of the church seemed to be in their death throes. Yet, by the beginning of the twentieth century, it was clear that the church and religious life had recovered their vitality and were experi-encing unprecedented growth. In the 150 years preceding Vatican II, religious life had more than recovered from previous losses. Statistically, its number of members peaked in 1965.3 The post-Vatican II period, through which we are presently living, has been one of immense social and cultural changes. The council fathers thrust the church into the modern world, and fall-out from this movement of the Spirit in the church has occa-sioned a difficult time of transition for all, especially religious in the Western world. The rnove from a church-imposed inflexibil-ity and rigidity of the pre-Vatican II period to a church-initiated reform of religious life in the post-Vatican II period brought about an upheaval that was radical and spectacular in its magni-tude and complexity.4 No one could have imagined the depth and breadth of these changes. Indeed, we are still too close to events to make a true assessment. We will have to leave that to a future generation. Presently, it is still difficult to read the signs of the times because they are so ambiguous. Yet one of the clear lessons 692 Review for Religious of history is that drastic changes in religious life in the past did precede new forms of dedication and new vitality which were appropriate for the new needs of the church in a new time and in new situations. God does speak to us through history. One of the more important lessons of history is that, while religious life appears to be perennial, individual religious insti-tutes are not. Dedication, consecra-tion, and commitment to Jesus and his people are evident in the lives of groups and individuals throughout the history of the church, but the forms these have taken and their specific expression in individual groups, communities, monasteries, and institutes does change. Institutes are like people--they are born, they grow, they live their lives, and even-tually they die.s V~hile monastic groups can sur-vive with a minimum of members, and even decrease to a handful of people in one or two monasteries, apostolic institutes cannot. Apostolic groups frequently respond to spe-cific needs at certain times and in particular places in the life of the church. Once they have achieved their purposes, they tend to fade away or find new life through adaptation and change. In any case, an apostolic group requires many members to fulfill its corpo-rate role and purpose. The institutional life of these religious, all things considered, is much shorter and more tenuous than that of monastic groups. However, some forms of religious life have had the ability to be revitalized over and over again through reform, adaptation, and new expressions. One need only consider the Rule of St. Benedict, which has been adjusted to multiple forms of monastic and quasimonastic life. While individual monasteries or groups of them fade away, new ones are established in other places and times. Each institute has its own life to live. Not a few have seemed to be dying out or even were suppressed, as was the Drastic changes in religious life in the past did precede new forms of dedication and new vitality which were appropriate for the new needs of the church in a new time and in new situations. September-October 1992 693 O'Connor ¯ Seeking a Sense of Direction Society of Jesus in 1773, only to be given new life and experi-ence spectacular growth. Nevertheless, breakdown and death are probably inevitable for every religious institute. Some may have a very short life and others may live for an unusually long time, just as individual per-sons do. Calamities and misfortunes overtake certain groups. It might be combinations of political and economic or social and religious events which occasion their breakdown and demise. Often these events have nothing to do with the interior vitality of the group. For example, .when pestilence decimated the Western world in the fourteenth century, the mendicant orders were espe-cially ravaged when many members generously ministered to the sick and dying; some orders lost half their membership.6 Time also takes its toll. The life and death of individual com-munities frequently have nothing to do with the spiritual vitality of the members. Often, in fact,'it appears that in periods of decline the membership display many virtues and signs of dedication. Their corporate life has simply come to an end. As death crowns their collective life, other dedicated people often rise up to meet the new challenges confronting the church. Contemporary Influences on Western Religious Life Cultural Factors. The church does not exist in a cultural vacuum, but in the world as it is. We are, at present, living through a period of exceptionally rapid and revolutionary cultural change in an increasingly technological society. Our Western culture has had an immense influence on the attitudes of our people toward freedom, authority, obedience, sexuality, intimacy, and affectiv-ity. Periods of rapid social change promote personal and institu-tional instability and make it extremely difficult for people, especially the young and inexperienced, to make any permanent and unconditional commitment as expected in marriage, the priesthood, or religious life. The high incidence of divorce and remarriage and the many departures from the clergy and reli-gious life coupled with a corresponding drop in vocations dur-ing the last two and a half decades manifest this unfortunate social fact. The postconciliar years also chanced to coincide with "a kind of cultural revolution which led to a break with tradition, a crisis of authority, and indifference toward questions of faith, great 69¢ Review for Religious uncertainty about moral values, and a crisis in the realm of ethics.''7 The whole world seemed caught up in a series of extraor-dinary social and cultural changes. These enormous cultural shifts and their concomitant crisis of meaning forced even the religious who did not leave their communities during these years to change their lives in such a radical way that their communities are now different from the ones they originally entered decades ago.8 The American cultural values of personalism and personal fulfillment, freedom and self-determination, pluralism, democratic self-crit-icism, and egalitarianism and an emphasis on productivity and success have frequently clashed with an older and more rigid reli-gious life.9 In the period before Vatican II, religious life became part of the Catholic ethos and was carried along by its own cogency. It was largely insulated from the broader currents of American cul-ture. This situation, however, could not continue--certainly not for many members who left it after the reforms called for by the council began to take effect,j° Moreover, Catholics are no longer social outsiders in the U.S. culture; they have joined the nation's insiders.II Because of its outsider mentality, the Catholic Church had built its own vast school system, its own hospitals, newspapers, and fraternal and professional societies parallel with everything that was found among the WASP insiders. Large numbers of Catholic men and women joined religious life. It was a natural way for many to obtain an education and take their place in the Catholic society of that time. Now that Catholics are social insid-ers, they are no longer attracted to serve only in church institu-tions, for many options are available to them in the larger society and in the church.12 Also, the present-day phenomenon of the prolongation of adolescence into the early twenties and the consequent delayed adulthood of many young people in our culture is a sociological fact.13 Large numbers of young adults remain dependent upon others and do not assume full responsibility for themselves until, perhaps, they are forced by circumstances to do so later in life. This has had a direct effect upon the vocational and formational problems facing religious communities. The perceptions of young people concerning religious life today are quite different from those of their elders.14 The younger the person, the less he or she perceives religious life as dynamic and effective, and the less attractive it is to him or her. Moreover, Septentber-October 1992 695 O'Connor ¯ Seeking a Sense of Direction because the positive perception women religious have of them-selves is not shared in the same degree by those outside religious life, it does not bode well for the replacement of present mem-bership. 15 Most significantly, because of the changed perceptions regarding the value of a celibate lifestyle on the part of so many people in our culture, the continuance of a celibate religious life, as we know it, is highly problematic with regard to the availabil-ity of potential candidates. There are very few people open to considering such a lifestyle, in the opinion of professional observers.16 Therefore, to state that religious life is countercultural in our present society is to assert an all-too-obvious fact. Theological and Ecclesial Factors. Pope John Paul II expressed his own grave concern about the drop in religious vocations when he sent a letter to the bishops of the United States on 3 April 1983. A pontifical commission was established to investigate the matter--dubbed the Quinn Commission because Archbishop John R. Quinn, of San Francisco, was appointed the pontifical dele-gate. 17 This commission made its lengthy report to the pontiff in October 1986 and a shorter one to the U.S. bishops in November 1986.18 The report did affirm many positive developments sucla as the rediscovery of the charisms of many institutes, the deepening of authentic spirituality, a new appreciation of apostolic religious life, a new awareness of the uniqueness of each individual reli-gious, the promotion of a greater participation in the decision-making processes of the institute, a new appreciation of the universality of the church's mission, a growing awareness of the feminine, the development of new constitutions, and new signs of hope through older and more mature vocations.19 It did note, however, that the universal call to holiness of all members of the church made at Vatican II in the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (§§ 39-42) affected religious and those who were contemplating entering religious life. This affir-mation of a common vocation to live a full Christian life was inserted in the conciliar document before its treatment of reli-gious life. It effectively undercut the popular misconception that the call to holiness lay primarily in religious life and in the priest-hood, or that one needed to enter them to pursue holiness seri-ously. A clear call to holiness was being made to (and heard by) 696 Review for Religious those in the married and the single life and not just to those liv-ing the celibacy of the religious life and the priesthood. Second, religious women and men took to their hearts the council documents' emphasis on social justice, which expanded upon the social teachings of the Gospel and the popes. This emphasis was reinforced by the personal experience of religious when they encountered social evil and injustice in their efforts to live and preach the Gospel. This experience, however, seemed to some to place apostolic religious in a theological bind between two apparently contrary church expectations: that they live "apart from the world" while they live and minister with an "option for the poor" in a modern world filled with social injustice. Third, the council'g reaffirmation of the need for the lay peo-ple to serve and to minister--to evangelize--in response to their baptismal call had an effect on religious. They became aware of the apostolic call made to all the faithful. The identity of religious can become clouded in periods of theological and ecclesial change. Their sense of direction and their morale are affected. Some religious now see themselves more as lay people. They react negatively to any restriction they per-ceive

Intro -- Title -- Copyright -- Contents -- List of Figures -- List of Contributors -- Acknowledgements -- Introduction: Marriage in Past, Present and Future Tense -- 1 Go Fiwa Molao/Giving the Law: Marriage, Law and Social Change in Botswana -- 2 'You can Learn to Do It Right, or You can Learn to Do It Wrong': Marriage Counselling, Togetherness and Creative Conservatism in Lynchburg, Virginia -- 3 Marriage, Time, Affect and the Politics of Compromise in Athens -- 4 Getting Married as a Trial: Deferring Marriage in Jinmen, Taiwan

A dramatic intellectual biography of Victorian jurist Travers Twiss, who provided the legal justification for the creation of the brutal Congo Free StateEminent jurist, Oxford professor, advocate to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Travers Twiss (1809-1897) was a model establishment figure in Victorian Britain, and a close collaborator of Prince Metternich, the architect of the Concert of Europe. Yet Twiss's life was defined by two events that threatened to undermine the order that he had so stoutly defended: a notorious social scandal and the creation of the Congo Free State. In King Leopold's Ghostwriter, Andrew Fitzmaurice tells the incredible story of a man who, driven by personal events that transformed him from a reactionary to a reformer, rewrote and liberalized international law--yet did so in service of the most brutal regime of the colonial era.In an elaborate deception, Twiss and Pharaïlde van Lynseele, a Belgian prostitute, sought to reinvent her as a woman of suitably noble birth to be his wife. Their subterfuge collapsed when another former client publicly denounced van Lynseele. Disgraced, Twiss resigned his offices and the couple fled to Switzerland. But this failure set the stage for a second, successful act of re-creation. Twiss found new employment as the intellectual driving force of King Leopold of Belgium's efforts to have the Congo recognized as a new state under his personal authority. Drawing on extensive new archival research, King Leopold's Ghostwriter recounts Twiss's story as never before, including how his creation of a new legal personhood for the Congo was intimately related to the earlier invention of a new legal personhood for his wife.Combining gripping biography and penetrating intellectual history, King Leopold's Ghostwriter uncovers a dramatic, ambiguous life that has had lasting influence on international law