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In the 15-years I have served in the United States Army, the focal point of my tactical and academic study has been almost entirely centered on the Middle East and its unique cultural complexities. As an Infantryman, I was embroiled in the early efforts to prevent a Sunni-Shia civil war in post-invasion Iraq, while also hunting down al-Qaeda operatives under the leadership of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. A year later, during General Patraeus's troop surge, I was in the urban sprawl of Northwest Baghdad fighting not only a Sunni insurgency, but also the Iranian-backed Jaysh al-Mahdi, comprised of local Shia militia groups. In 2010, I led a battalion reconnaissance team in the Arghandab River Valley of Afghanistan against the Taliban near the very birthplace of their Salafi-jihadist movement. In subsequent years, following my graduation from the Special Forces Qualification Course, I served in the 5th Special Forces Group (SFG) on a variety of missions in support of Operation Inherent Resolve in Turkey and Syria. As a fluent Arabic speaker, I was heavily involved in early efforts to train and equip the Free Syrian Army for its fight against the Islamic State. Following this deployment, I served as a liaison officer to the United States Embassy and Turkish General Staff in Ankara, having daily interaction with foreign dignitaries, defense attachés, and military officials in strategic level planning and coordination efforts. I culminated my time with 5th SFG as the assistant operations sergeant of a detachment fighting the Islamic State in Syria. My understanding of the culture of jihad, the various jihadist groups operating throughout the Central Command (CENTCOM) area of responsibility, and the intricacy of Middle Eastern problem sets as a whole, has come from years of dedicated cultural analysis, in-depth study of Sunni and Shia Islam, and field experience from the strategic to the tactical level. It is because of this experience that I am compelled to discuss the culture of jihad in the 21st Century. ; Winner of the 2020 Friends of the Kreitzberg Library Award for Outstanding Research in the College of Graduate and Continuing Studies Degree Completion category. ; 1 The Culture of Jihad in the 21st Century Michael J. Bearden Norwich University SOCI401: Cultural and Anthropology Studies Dr. Timothy Maynard April 30, 2020 2 The Culture of Jihad in the 21st Century In the 15-years I have served in the United States Army, the focal point of my tactical and academic study has been almost entirely centered on the Middle East and its unique cultural complexities. As an Infantryman, I was embroiled in the early efforts to prevent a Sunni-Shia civil war in post-invasion Iraq, while also hunting down al-Qaeda operatives under the leadership of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. A year later, during General Patraeus's troop surge, I was in the urban sprawl of Northwest Baghdad fighting not only a Sunni insurgency, but also the Iranian-backed Jaysh al-Mahdi, comprised of local Shia militia groups. In 2010, I led a battalion reconnaissance team in the Arghandab River Valley of Afghanistan against the Taliban near the very birthplace of their Salafi-jihadist movement. In subsequent years, following my graduation from the Special Forces Qualification Course, I served in the 5th Special Forces Group (SFG) on a variety of missions in support of Operation Inherent Resolve in Turkey and Syria. As a fluent Arabic speaker, I was heavily involved in early efforts to train and equip the Free Syrian Army for its fight against the Islamic State. Following this deployment, I served as a liaison officer to the United States Embassy and Turkish General Staff in Ankara, having daily interaction with foreign dignitaries, defense attachés, and military officials in strategic level planning and coordination efforts. I culminated my time with 5th SFG as the assistant operations sergeant of a detachment fighting the Islamic State in Syria. My understanding of the culture of jihad, the various jihadist groups operating throughout the Central Command (CENTCOM) area of responsibility, and the intricacy of Middle Eastern problem sets as a whole, has come from years of dedicated cultural analysis, in-depth study of Sunni and Shia Islam, and field experience from the strategic to the tactical level. It is because of this experience that I am compelled to discuss the culture of jihad in the 21st Century. 3 Since its beginning in circa 610 CE, when the prophet Muhammad ibn Abdullah was visited by the angel Gabriel in a cave near Mecca, Islam has shaken the foundations of the Middle East and remained in a state of near-perpetual conflict with the Western world. Islam is an Arabic term most closely relating to the English words submission or surrender. Mujahedeen, or holy warriors, spread this new religion by the sword throughout Asia, forcing the "submission" of thousands, and have hardly been at peace with their neighbors since. Centuries later, in the two decades following the attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon in the United States, radical Islam's stance against the West has altered the diplomatic landscape between the world's great powers, fundamentally changed the United States' national strategic direction, and caused youth from all walks of life to sacrifice the best years of their lives in holy war to protect the supra-national community of Islam. From the invasion of Afghanistan to the subsequent invasions of Iraq and Syria to the ongoing peace talks with the Taliban, diplomatic and military efforts to eradicate jihadists from the Middle East have to-date been nearly ineffectual. Not only have these efforts failed to contain or defeat jihad, but at times have served to strengthen Islamic extremists' resolve in their call to arms against the West. Because jihad is such a fundamental part of the Islamic faith, it can never be "defeated" in the sense of traditional military eradication of an enemy force, but it can be confronted, contained, or refocused, as this paper will address. I argue that enabling local solutions and promoting education, alongside tailored surgical strike and security cooperation operations where necessary, are the keys to confronting, containing, and countering jihad. 4 Background Defining Jihad and Salafism Jihad is a transliterated form of the Arabic word meaning to struggle or to strive. In the traditional teachings of the Islamic faith, jihad is broken into two distinct categories: Greater jihad and lesser jihad. Greater jihad includes the personal struggle against selfish desires, emphasizing discipline and morality, as well as the struggle against Satan and the forces of evil. It includes jihad of the heart, jihad of the mind, and jihad of the tongue, involving praise for those who follow the will of Allah and correction for those who have gone astray (Gorka, 2016). The second category, lesser jihad, is viewed as the struggle against the enemies of Islam and the defense of its people. Lesser jihad is commonly referred to as Jihad of the Sword. Gorka (p. 60) reveals that, over time, this category of jihad has been used as justification for at least seven different subsets of holy war: 1. Using holy war to build an empire 2. Going after apostate regimes or individuals 3. Revolting against non-pious Muslim leaders 4. Fighting against the forces of imperialism in Muslim lands 5. Countering the West's pagan influence 6. Guerrilla warfare against a foreign invader 7. Using jihad as justification for terrorist attacks against civilian targets In a broad sense, lesser jihad can be viewed as offensive or defensive martial action. On the offensive side, jihadists use religion to justify building an empire, such as the Islamic State, attack apostate regimes, like those of the Taliban against Afghan government forces, and use terrorism against civilians, like the attacks on the World Trade Center. This offensive action 5 often takes jihadists beyond the borders of the ummah, or the people of Islam, striking fear into hearts of unbelievers around the globe. The defensive variety, especially in recent history, has most often correlated directly with the use of guerrilla warfare against foreign invaders, such as al-Qaeda's attacks on the international military coalitions that invaded Afghanistan and Iraq. This radical view of Islam is mostly practiced by those who follow the way of the Salafi, or the pious predecessors from the time of Muhammad, who experienced Islam in its purest form. It is believed that the first three generations who practiced the teachings of the prophet Muhammad are the ones who all Muslims thereafter should try to emulate. Themes of Salafism focus on complete adherence to sharia law, the fight against apostate Muslim regimes, and the spread and protection of Islam and its followers. At its core, Salafism is a very traditionalist view of Islam and has been practiced by multiple 21st Century terrorist organizations. The terms jihad and Salafi have shared such a close relationship in the last few decades that they have become nearly synonymous, at times described as Salafi-Jihadism or Jihadi-Salafism (Gorka, 2016; Nilsson, 2019) What Cultural Influences Lead One to the Path of Jihad? Before the attacks on 9/11, the largest call to jihad answered by the international Muslim community was in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. Stopping the spread of communism and defending the ummah against the atrocities of Russian ground forces was seen as a noble and just cause for young Muslim men, and not just among Muslims (Gorka, 2016; Nilsson, 2019). Many nations, including the United States, funded, equipped, and trained the Afghan mujahedeen (those who conduct jihad) for the fight against the Soviet empire. Jihad in the 21st Century has been viewed in a much different light, as it is most closely associated with acts of extreme violence against Western nations. While the piles of rubble that used to be the 6 World Trade Center smoldered, and a gaping hole scarred the wall of the Pentagon, people of the world were forced to ask themselves, "How could a person do this? Why would someone take their own lives and thousands of others in the name of Allah?" Religious Justification for Jihad. Though jihad has become almost entirely associated with Islamic holy war, the term itself is still simply the Arabic word for striving. Struggling against one's selfish desires, striving to maintain traditional values, and defending a community against a common enemy are not just Islamic concepts, they are universal to most tightly-knit cultures. Similarly, Christians and Jews are taught self-discipline, adherence to moral codes, and defending their belief against enemies of their faith. So, why has the Islamic flavor of this common cultural theme become so violent, causing deep unrest around the world in our modern era? Verses from the Qur'an can begin to unpack why horrific public executions, suicide bombings, and advocating for generalized violence against non-Muslims may be justifiable in jihadist culture. The Qur'an (2015) lays out the following decree in chapter 9, verse 29: Fight those from among the People of the Book who believe not in Allah, nor in the Last Day, nor hold as unlawful what Allah and His Messenger have declared to be unlawful, nor follow the true religion, until they pay the tax with their own hand and acknowledge their subjection (p. 208). My personal study of Islam and conversations with Muslims in the field revealed that this bit of prose has been used as motivation and justification for jihad by groups like al-Qaeda, the Taliban, the Islamic State, and Hay'at Tahrir al-Sham of our modern age. Some of the following themes are evident in the translation: 7 • Jews and Christians are recognized as People of the Book, but are required to accept the following—Allah as the one true god, sharia as the acceptable law, and Islam as the one true religion. • If Jews and Christians refuse to accept these statutes, they must pay a tax called the jizyah to show their subjugation. • If they refuse to do either of these, they are to be put to the sword (p. 208). Salafi-jihadist groups such as the Taliban and Islamic State have tried to revive the jizyah tax in areas under their control. Likewise, hundreds of Christians, Jews, and even Muslims who refuse to adhere to strict sharia law have been publicly executed. This vehement enforcement of arcane Islamic law is seen as a return to the purest form of Islam, as pious as the first few generations who followed the Prophet Muhammad. Another common religious cultural theme that ties these jihadist organizations together is a message of religious oppression. They preach to young Muslims that the Islamic world is under siege by the West and that their god, their value systems, and their way of life are being threatened by the evils of capitalism and democracy (Venhaus, 2010). In joining organizations like al-Qaeda or the Islamic State, young men from across the globe find a sense of purpose and direction in their cause to protect the ummah. This theme is manifested in the teachings of Anwar al-Awlaki, the spiritual leader of al-Qaeda and the father of home-grown terrorism in the United States. He calls on Muslims living among those in the West: How can your conscience allow you to live in peaceful coexistence with a nation that is responsible for the tyranny and crimes committed against your own brothers and sisters? How can you have your loyalty to a government that is leading the war against Islam and Muslims? Hence, my advice to you is this, you have two choices: either hijra [migration 8 to an Islamic land] or jihad. You either leave or you fight. You leave and live among Muslims or you stay behind and fight with your hand, your wealth, and your word. I specifically invite the youth to either fight in the West or join their brothers on the fronts of jihad: Afghanistan, Iraq, and Somalia (as cited in Gorka, 2016). This way of thinking is also captured in chapter 9, verse 5 of the Qur'an (2015): Kill the idolaters wherever you find them and take them prisoners, and beleaguer them, and lie in wait for them at every place of ambush. But if they repent and observe Prayer and pay the Zakat, then leave their way free (p. 204). When taken literally, as they are by followers of Salafi-jihad, scriptures such as these leave no choice. To these men who have committed themselves fully to the ways of the pious ones, they are compelled to become shahid, or martyrs in the protection of the ummah. The Qur'an promises paradise for those who do: Surely, Allah has purchased of the believers their persons and their property in return for the Garden they shall have; they fight in the cause of Allah, and they slay and are slain—a promise the He has made incumbent on Himself in the Torah, and the Gospel, and the Qur'an. And who is more faithful to his promise than Allah? Rejoice, then, in your bargain which you have made with Him; and that it is which is the supreme triumph (p. 222). The concept of becoming a martyr in the struggle for Islam is romanticized by jihadist groups, like al-Qaeda and the Islamic State, and even state governments in local programming. In Lebanon, Mothers of Martyrs are interviewed to share the stories of their sons' glorious end while fighting abroad against the infidels (Venhaus, 2010). The Qur'an itself calls this sacrifice the supreme triumph for a jihadist, striving for the glory of Allah. 9 Though enforcing the jizyah, publicly executing those who do not follow sharia law, and seeking opportunities to kill infidels through suicide attacks represent a very small, extremist cultural sect of Islam, each of these practices is still justifiable if one looks to the Qur'an. This could be viewed as no different than a rural Pentecostal church in the Deep South who maintains strict standards for how women must dress and act: it all comes down to interpretation and a community's willingness to subjugate themselves to these standards. Spiritual leaders of jihadist groups in the 21st Century have used the Qur'an as continued justification for a variety of cruel, inhumane, and brutal actions that served to shock the West. The holy book of Islam acts as the essential glue, binding together all facets of Arab and Islamic culture. Artistic Inspiration for Jihad. A far cry from the harsh proclamations of the Qur'an, Arabic poetry predates Islam by centuries and serves as a bedrock of Arabic culture across the Middle East. Early desert nomads composed poems mostly in mono-rhyme and in one of sixteen standard canonical measures, which made them easy to commit to memory (Creswell & Haykel, 2015). Naturally, this beautiful form of cultural expression has found a home in the modern jihadist movement, where it has become an inspiration for new recruits to join the cause and crucial in the sustainment of those already fighting infidels abroad. Creswell and Haykel assert that although analysts have generally ignored this facet of jihadist culture, it is woven deeply into the fabric of modern Islamic extremism. Osama bin Laden, most recognized as the former head of al-Qaeda, was also a highly-celebrated jihadist poet. Without question, his lyrical genius inspired young Arabs with stories of a return to the heroic and chivalrous past of Islam. One of his most famous works celebrates the martyrdom of the 9/11 hijackers. This is a theme among modern jihadist poetry, which preserves the tales of suicide bombers, the conquered apostate regimes of Iraq and Syria, and the glories of jihadist heroes (Creswell & Haykel). Likewise, in a 10 group of individuals who have each traveled far from home to defend Islam against the kuffar, these poems help to establish a sense of cultural identity, strengthening their wartime bond and solidifying their resolve. In seeing the videos of the Islamic State as they carved a path of destruction across large swathes of Iraq in early 2014, it may be difficult for one to believe that its members were motivated by the rhythmic lines of jihadist poetry. It is hard to accept that the same young fighter who is willing to behead an infidel for all the free world to see, could also be found passionately reciting lines celebrating the glorious return of an Islamic caliphate. During its rise, the Islamic State capitalized on the lyrical talent of a Damascus-born woman named Ahlam al-Nasr. In her first broadcast, called the Blaze of Truth, she sang each one of her 107 works a cappella, in accordance with the Islamic State's ban on musical instruments. The video was uploaded to Youtube, receiving thousands of views and further shares on multiple social media platforms (Creswell & Haykel, 2015). In the early days of the group's brutal campaign in Iraq, al-Nasr celebrated victory in Mosul as a new dawn for the country: "Ask Mosul, city of Islam, about the lions— how their fierce struggle brought liberation. The land of glory has shed its humiliation and defeat and put on the raiment of splendor" (as cited in Creswell & Haykel, 2015). Her choice of words helps one sense her deep passion for jihad, hidden within the lines. Mujahedeen are called lions and liberators. Mosul is called both a city of Islam and a land of 11 glory that, because of its liberation, has been released from the chains of shame and can now live in the splendor and pride of its former renown. Poetry has succored those serving in times of war for hundreds, even thousands of years. In the same manner, this key element of artistic cultural expression has helped bind together the modern jihadi movement, capturing the heroic deeds of martyrs who would otherwise remain nameless and unrecognized by the outside world. Serving in lands far away from home, young jihadists find inspiration, strength, and a renewed sense of identity in these haunting bits of rhyme. Social Pressure to Join Jihad. Abdullah Anas was an Algerian who served as one of the mujahedeen in Afghanistan in the 1980s and spent several years studying under Abdullah Azzam, the Palestinian "Father of Resistance to the Soviets" (Gall, 2020). Working to help Algerians achieve nonviolent change in their government, Anas, now in his 60s, has spent a life living and working among jihadists. To Anas, jihad is a fundamental principle of Muslim culture through which mujahedeen receive rewards in heaven: "I will never denounce jihad. As a Muslim, I know this to be a noble deed—where man can be the most beastly" (Gall). In a study of three Swedish jihadists, with experiences ranging from 1980s Afghanistan to the modern fight in Syria, Nilsson (2019) suggests that one of the fundamental social justifications for joining jihad is the sense that Islam and Muslims are collectively under attack. This, again, is a theme that applies to more than just the modern jihadist movement: Americans lined up in droves outside recruiting stations following the attacks on Pearl Harbor and decades later after September 11, 2001. Following the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq, many Muslims from around the world began to see this not as just the West going after the 9/11 conspirators, but as a global attack on Islam. Each day, fresh news stories of coalition soldiers' crimes against 12 Muslim civilians and pictures of burning villages continued to motivate men to join the fight to protect the ummah from the foreign invaders. Nilsson contends that since most jihadists are very young, in their teens and early twenties, they are very susceptible to the influences of close friends and social groups. Safet, a young Muslim living in Sweden, was pressured by a friend to join the Islamic State in Syria, saying that he became convinced by his friend Ahmed that the group was fighting to protect Muslims (Nilsson). However, after realizing that the Islamic State was actually killing other Muslims in a practice called takfir, or excommunication, Safet became disillusioned and returned to Sweden (Nilsson). From the fight against the foreign invaders in the early 2000s in Afghanistan and Iraq, to the struggle for the establishment of an Islamic caliphate in 2015, it seems jihadists have most often been motivated by the need to protect the international Muslim community. Aside from the social responsibility of defending their faith and people, the need for adventure also seems to permeate the ideations of young men seeking to join a jihadist group. One of Nilsson's (2019) most interesting theories is that jihad is not the radicalization of Islam, but rather the Islamization of radicalism. Individuals who are already naturally predisposed to such adventurous or nihilistic behavior get caught up in the social dynamics of their time, ending up in a jihadist movement. Venhaus (2010) explains that in interviews with over 2,000 al-Qaeda prisoners from Iraq to Guantanamo Bay, he found that young Muslim men sought the cause of jihad for a number of normal social pressures felt by normal teens worldwide: "Revenge seekers need an outlet for their frustration, status seekers need recognition, identity seekers need a group to join, and thrill seekers need adventure" (Venhaus). The Effects of Social Media and Technology on Jihad. In the modern era, news is no longer bound by the time it takes for an article to be published, printed, and distributed across 13 great distance in a community. Social media platforms like Facebook, Youtube, Twitter, and Instagram have made sharing news instantaneous. Additionally, the advent of the smartphone, which acts simultaneously as a hand-held computer, high definition camera, and telephone with nearly world-wide coverage has forever changed the media landscape. In the era of modern jihad, one can post a single video that moves the minds of thousands in a matter of seconds. Following the 2003 invasion of Iraq to topple Saddam Hussein's regime, news stories of atrocity among the efforts of coalition troops over the next decade served to further the cause of local and foreign jihadists to protect the ummah from these invaders. Accidental bombing of civilians, mistreatment of the prisoners at Abu Ghraib, and a general ignorance toward Muslim culture were fueled by social media and smartphone technology. Venhaus (2010) claims that throughout this early phase of the war in Iraq, al-Qaeda very rarely had to actively recruit, their global brand was aggressively promoted through satellite television, internet chat rooms, and social media platforms; willing candidates sought them out. This use of media continued to be perfected by jihadist organizations like the Islamic State, who published a digital magazine called Dabiq, named for the ideological capital of the proposed caliphate, which rallied Muslims to jihad through stories of glory and heroism in the cause for Islam. The Islamic State also posted grisly execution videos, with stunning music and production value, including super high-definition shots of their brutality. Publications and videos such as these could be copied, saved, shared, and re-shared before any sort of government intervention could stop them. Creswell and Haykel (2015) reveal that jihadists were running a massive, secret network of social media websites and fake accounts that could be rapidly assembled and dissembled by hackers. The effects of social media and technology on modern jihadist culture are easy to understand, but challenging to measure in scope and reach. Just as easily as videos of Islamic 14 State propaganda or poetry can be shared, so too can stories of coalition force atrocities in Afghanistan and Iraq. This has put strategists in a unique position, where it is nearly impossible to control the narrative. Unfortunately, the story that breaks first is still the one that is liked and shared the most, even if the truth comes out after. Effects of Western Culture on Jihad. Rapid globalization, including the widespread diffusion of the internet and technology into the Middle East in the last two decades has continued to foment jihadist hatred for the West. Personal conversations with multiple Muslims in Iraq and Afghanistan revealed that the decadence, lavish richness, and sinful lifestyles portrayed by Western movies and media served to fuel the fires of disdain among the pious Salafi-jihadists. Additionally, Muslim men living in Western nations following the attacks on the World Trade Center were ostracized and feared by society, often leading them to an eventual radicalization process. Being denied a peaceful coexistence because of continued Western misperception, caused many young Muslims to become angry and seek community and brotherhood among other Muslims experiencing the same problems. Venhaus (2010) notes that out of the over 2,000 captured jihadists interviewed, more than 30 per cent of them sought al-Qaeda because they were angry. Under the tutelage of local al-Qaeda mentors, the frustrations of these young men were then turned upon their neighbors through careful instruction and manipulation. They were taught to see the West as the enemy of Islam, with hundreds of the ummah being harmed by their military coalitions in Afghanistan and Iraq each day. They were instructed in the ways of the pious ones who came before them, inspiring them to turn from the sinfulness of their Western neighbors and take pride in their newfound self-discipline and righteousness in the eyes of Allah. Eventually, many of these young men would travel to their 15 ancestral homelands to join the struggle, or conduct terrorist attacks on their own Western communities. Analysis A Unique Challenge Given the litany of reasons one might join jihad, the incredibly complex cultural and social environment, and the fluidity of the modern jihadist movement, how can the United States begin to contain this problem? The reasons one individual might join a jihadist cause are as various and sundry as why one might choose to join any movement or profession over another. As Nilsson (2019) and Venhaus (2010) have detailed, there appears to be no singular marker: one could be an extremely religious or a passive Muslim, rich or poor, single or married with a family, have a completely stable social life or be isolated with no friends. Jihadists can be from any country, any walk of life, and usually do not widely broadcast their intentions prior to taking part in acts of violence for the cause of Islam. It is because of the near-impossibility of clearly identifying a pattern of distinguishable cultural markers that make it such a challenge for the United States government and its allies to address the threat of jihad. Targeting an individual before they become a jihadist or before they commit a terrorist act has been one of the most formidable challenges of our time for military and law enforcement professionals alike. Usually, the much simpler job is finding a jihadist who has allowed their communications discipline to slip before an act, or catching them in a pitched battle on foreign soil. In order to protect citizens of the West and East alike against jihadists' aims, the United States Government must be prepared to confront, contain, and counter the jihadist narrative "left of bang," before an attack occurs. 16 The Global War on Terrorism: Taking the Fight to the Jihadists. In the months that followed September 11, 2001, President George W. Bush deployed Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) paramilitary officers and US Special Operations Forces (SOF) to find, fix, and finish pockets of al-Qaeda militants being harbored by the Taliban in Afghanistan. A fierce campaign of relentless aerial bombardment and mounted assaults by the forces of the Afghan Northern Alliance led to a swift and decisive defeat of al-Qaeda and the Taliban. With Kabul and Kandahar in allied hands, and an interim government established under the leadership of the Pashtun Hamid Karzai, the future of a free and prosperous Afghanistan seemed assured, but what came to be known as The Long War had only just begun. Trillions of dollars, thousands of lives, and 19 years later, the United States and its allies have been forced to the negotiating table with the Salafi-jihadist Taliban. Likewise, after Saddam Hussein's continued disregard for international law, threats against the United States, and open violence against his own people, the administration of President Bush decided again to pursue a military option. Much like Afghanistan, the coalition was led by CIA operatives and SOF operators, coordinating airstrikes on key positions in a tactical display of American firepower affectionately titled Shock and Awe. However, unlike Afghanistan, a massive conventional invasion followed the bombing campaign, bent on toppling the Baathist regime and finding Saddam's chemical weapons stockpiles. What followed was a series of policy failures, leading to a steady influx of jihadists partnering with local insurgents seeking to oust the foreign invaders and protect the ummah from the atrocities of the kuffar. In my professional opinion, Iraq is still recovering from the decade-long military occupation, cleaning up the destruction left by the Islamic State, and on the brink of civil war due to concerns about being an Iranian puppet state. 17 Ineffective Military Methods to Combat Jihad Operation Iraqi Freedom. During my first combat rotation as an Infantryman in the Triangle of Death in southern Iraq in 2005-2006, I experienced the initial rumblings of a civil war between the Sunni and Shia Muslims in Iraq, each wrestling for power in a post-Saddam world. I was also witness to the inundation of foreign jihadists, joining the ranks of al-Qaeda in Iraq under the leadership of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, who at times headquartered in my area of operations. As I analyze our highly-kinetic and aggressive initial campaigns years later, I can see that the coalition's fight, first against Saddam, then against al-Qaeda, only bolstered jihadist motivation. In being a foreign invader, we inadvertently created a jihadist resistance movement, bent on the removal of their occupiers. Kilcullen (2010) explains this dilemma by explaining that focusing on the wrong metrics in a fight against insurgents can be deceptive: If you kill 20 insurgents, they may have 40 relatives who are now in a blood feud with your unit and are compelled to take revenge. Again in 2007-2008, I was deployed to Iraq as an Infantry squad leader to the sacred city of Khadimiyah in Northwest Baghadad. This was during the famous troop surge, meant to fix the ongoing problems with stability throughout the country. Being in the home of the beautiful Shrine of the Seventh Imam, it was a predominantly Shia area. Over the course of 15 months, my unit fought several engagements against Iranian-backed Shia militias and worked on project after project to strengthen local civil infrastructure, all while maintaining the utmost discretion against damaging homes or creating civilian casualties. Yet again, although we had conducted a nearly perfect counterinsurgency fight, it seemed that Kilcullen's insurgent math still applied: Fighting the jihadists only served to create more unrest within the population, no matter if we were restoring essential services and reducing damage to homes or not. 18 Operation Enduring Freedom. Nearly a decade after the fall of al-Qaeda and its Taliban hosts, I was deployed to the mountains of Afghanistan from 2010-2011. Stationed along the Arghandab River, just north of Kandahar, we were in the heart of the Pashtun Taliban. Again, the same story remained true: We fought the Taliban jihadists almost daily, but could not seem to win over the true key terrain in a counterinsurgency fight: The hearts and minds of the people. The Taliban would harass our unit's base of operations with a few pop shots as we called them, which would unleash a massive response in firepower and resources. Thousands of rounds of machine gun ammunition would be fired into the farm fields surrounding our Combat Out Post (COP), squads would be sent in pursuit of the attackers, and helicopters would spend hours scouring the terrain in an attempt to heap justice on the insurgents. This massive effort against so few served to erode the unit's motivation, exhaust our supplies, and alienate the civilian population whose homes and fields had been damaged in the process. Reflections on Personal Combat Experience. After years of combat experience and deeply studying Muslim culture, I can now see how the mistakes the coalitions made early-on in both operations only fueled the fires of insurgency, resistance to foreign occupiers, and generalized hatred for the West. Porch (2013) argues brilliantly that US counterinsurgency doctrine made the same mistake as its imperialistic predecessors of centuries before: Believing that military action was a proper vehicle for providing Middle Easterners with Western values, as well as a foundation for governance, social programs, and economic transformation in a region. This became evident in my own experience, realizing that no matter what sort of social, infrastructure, or economic programs ran alongside our military efforts, the people of both Afghanistan and Iraq felt the enormous social weight of being occupied by a foreign power, rendering these efforts nearly ineffectual. On the contrary, local and foreign jihadist movements 19 capitalized on each and every mistake of coalition forces, increasing their recruitment and resolve against the West. Though our military may have been winning every major battle against the jihadists, our policy makers and field commanders made the fundamental mistake of believing that these non-Western nations lived in some sort of time-warp, in which the adoption of Western democracy, rule of law, and capitalism would allow them to thrive as a nation (Porch). Effective Military Methods to Combat Jihad Surgical Strike and Precision Targeting. A unique feature of the Global War on Terrorism was the US military's continued perfection of covert strike operations with surgical precision deep into enemy safe havens. This was put on display in the rout of al-Qaeda by CIA and SOF in Afghanistan, in the kill/capture missions against the Baathists in the deck of cards in Iraq, and later in the killing of Osama bin Laden in Pakistan and Sheik Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi in Iraq. Having the ability to appear out of nowhere in the middle of the night, kill or capture an intended target with zero damage to infrastructure or civilian casualties, and leave within minutes of arrival struck fear into the hearts and minds of jihadists across the globe. The success and efficacy of this type of operation was acknowledged in the 2015 National Military Strategy, which stated: "The best way to counter VEOs [violent extremist organizations] is by way of.military strengths such as ISR, precision strike [emphasis added], training, and logistical support" (p.11). Likewise, President Obama's massive expansion of the use of drones, which could watch individuals for days and execute a precise strike that only touched the intended target, has continued to sow fear and deny jihadists' freedom of maneuver on a global scale. The US military and its allies have only continued to master these types of operations throughout the 20 fights in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and other locations. The jihadists know this, and realize that one wrong move at any time could mean disaster. Security Cooperation. An additional theme that has spelled the end for jihadists throughout the globe has been the training, advising, and equipping of security forces and partners within Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and other nations. Enabling the host-nation military to handle jihadist movements on their own helps the United States military work itself out of a job. US Army Special Forces are uniquely suited to accomplish this mission: With specialized training, language capability, and cultural understanding, they are able to train foreign security forces through a variety of Principle Tasks. These tasks include Foreign Internal Defense, which focuses on a holistic approach to internal security and protection of citizens against lawlessness and insurgency, and Security Force Assistance, which can be focused internally or externally against threats to a nation's stability and security. The success of these mission sets was evident in 2014, during my own experience with the Afghan Commando Kandaks' continued fight against the Taliban and in closely following the Iraqi Counterterrorism Service's efforts against the Islamic State. Both of these forces, built from the ground-up by US Army Special Forces have continually fortified weak conventional military force operations against jihadist groups in their respective nations. Muslim Youth Efforts Against Jihad Globalization, though it has been proven to bolster the jihadists' narrative against the West, has also been beneficial to the movement against jihad itself. Because youth of the world have access to technology that allows them to see the atrocities and lies associated with global jihadist organizations, they are beginning to turn the tide. During the Islamic State's rise to power in Iraq and Syria, Muslim youth from across Europe travelled to join the jihadists in their 21 fight against the West. However, groups of Muslim youth also spoke up to counter this narrative. In 2015 the Muslim Youth League, an anti-Islamic State cultural movement, declared a holy war against all extremist organizations (Dearden, 2015). The group called on all Muslims to stand united against those who have hijacked Islam and misrepresented the faith. Through engagement work in schools and communities, as well as a robust online campaign, the Muslim Youth League is fighting back against jihadist propaganda that bids young Muslims join the Islamic State and other extremist groups (Dearden). Since the time of this publication, the Muslim Youth League has spread to several countries throughout the Middle East, Asia, and Europe, each with their own social media presence, outreach programs, community events, and websites. Local Government Efforts Against Jihad In the years following the Islamic State's spread across Iraq and Syria, the United Kingdom has developed a robust strategy to help at-risk Muslims avoid the radicalization process. The program itself is called Contest, and includes four distinct categories: Prevent, Prepare, Protect, and Pursue (British Broadcasting Corporation [BBC], 2017). Police departments and social organizations have built relationships with doctors, faith leaders, teachers and others, who are required to report suspicious persons to the proper authorities. In response to these reporting requirements and recommendations, over 7,500 reports were filed between 2015-2016, with one in 10 being actionable intelligence for government and police forces (BBC). In 2015 alone, over 150 people, including 50 children, were kept from traveling to conflict zones in Iraq and Syria (BBC). The strategy has of course drawn criticism, for fear that it will further alienate Muslims from their local communities, but it presents as an excellent plan of action for identifying individuals who are at risk beyond just using traditional signals intelligence and 22 surveillance techniques. It does more than just target the individual, it also seeks to reform them through education, outreach, and community programs. Counterarguments You Can Kill an Idea. I have heard the opinion throughout my time in the military that jihad and the idea of Islamic supremacy can be completely eradicated. The example most often given is that Nazism, including the idea that the Aryan race was superior to all others, was effectively destroyed by a global military campaign. This argument is weak. The Nazis represented a very small portion of German culture, including among those serving in the military, so it was relatively easy to contain once there was an overwhelming military victory by the Allies. However, although the German Army of the 1940s was defeated militarily, the idea of white supremacy lives on in small social groups throughout the world to this day. The Ongoing Taliban Peace Talks. I have colleagues throughout the military who are convinced that the current negotiations with the Taliban are a key indicator of success in our two decades at war against the Salafi-jihadist group. The issue with this is that temporary cease fires have already been violated several times, leading one to believe that the strategic level leadership's messages are simply not reaching their subordinates or that local factions are not adhering to the agreement. Trusting that radical Muslim extremists will not allow Afghanistan to become a future safe haven for other jihadists, as it has in the past, is simply unrealistic. Believing some sort of quasi peace deal is going to miraculously pacify an organization that hates everything the West stands for is misguided. My own experiences throughout the Middle East have proven that the spirit of jihad and hatred will live on in Afghanistan. The Islamic State is Nearly Defeated. Multiple global media outlets continue to run stories about the dismantling of the Islamic State, as though the battle is won. Though Sheik Abu 23 Bakr al-Baghdadi has been killed, and the proposed Islamic caliphate was never fully realized, it would be naïve to think that the Islamic State's jihad is over. The movement will metastasize and take on new forms in other parts of the globe: It is already happening. Jihadists are continually leaving the battlefields of Iraq and Syria, headed back to their former homes in mainland Europe. As these individuals reenter the diaspora, the concern is that they will radicalize other individuals and conduct terrorist attacks within the continent. Conclusion The reasons an individual seeks to join a jihadist movement are deeply rooted in personal social dynamics, the security situation of their country, and a multitude of other religious, cultural, and economic factors. I agree with Venhaus (2010) and Gorka (2016) who assert that there is no singular military operation or strategy that can bring about a decisive victory against something so intangible as why one might join the modern jihadist movement. Use of the US military as a vehicle for the establishment of Western democracy and nation-building efforts in tribal nations like Afghanistan and Iraq only served to invigorate the jihadists' call to arms. Jihad is not something that can be eradicated completely by military force. Jihad must be confronted, contained, and countered through a comprehensive approach that empowers state and non-state actors to develop local solutions and directs expeditious military applications only where completely necessary. Recommendations Promote and Protect the Muslim Youth Leagues In order to truly create a cultural paradigm shift in Muslim youth at risk of radicalization, groups like the Muslim Youth League (BBC, 2017) should be promoted by governments worldwide as a bastion of true and peaceful Islam. While they should no doubt be supported, 24 governments must also protect these organizations from becoming targets for violent acts of terrorism or influence operations by jihadists. Through a combination of deep cultural understanding and positive messaging, the Muslim Youth League has already shown its effectiveness in the United Kingdom and beyond. Because the youth of each nation understand the social pressures and cultural influences that may lead one to seek jihad, they can effectively develop tailored, local solutions to persuade at-risk individuals. The Muslim Youth Leagues are on the front lines of countering the jihadist worldview, taking a stand and declaring war on jihad and its misrepresentations of Islam. Enable Local Solutions for Local Problems This should be accomplished through unified government action that involves all the United States' instruments of national power including diplomacy, information sharing, military action where necessary, and economic stimulus as needed. The specific issue with efforts like these, is that they cannot be accomplished during what is perceived by locals as a military occupation. This was proven true in Afghanistan and later in Iraq. Despite massive efforts to rebuild infrastructure, aid in agricultural processes, build schools, and organize community projects, the United States and its allies were still viewed as pushing Western values and democracy on nations through military occupation. As much as possible, we must limit our military presence in areas that are ripe for developing a jihadist movement, or in ones that are recovering. I have seen firsthand that government efforts against jihadist organizations or at-risk communities have often been fragmented, poorly staffed, and uncoordinated. Venhaus (2010) suggests the creation of an agency that is staffed, trained, funded, enabled, and equipped for strategic communications, calling it the United States Strategic Communications Agency. An 25 agency like this could ensure that a comprehensive national communications strategy is developed and achieved, with a focus on enabling local community efforts to counter the jihadist narrative. By promoting social outreach, religious education, and community programs, this agency could bolster the efforts of community leaders and stifle jihadist aims in their areas. Support Religious Education and Reintegration Reintegration programs in Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, Singapore and elsewhere have successfully rehabilitated former jihadists through religious education (Venhaus, 2010). Countering the apocalyptic world view of jihadist groups like al-Qaeda and the Islamic State requires local religious leaders who understand their community's issues to band together and refute the extremist narrative. Through careful, patient, and individually-tailored instruction, Muslim religious leaders can invalidate each and every one of the extremists' claims. Individuals who turn to jihad are often seeking this type of direction, they just find it in the wrong places. Counter Threats with Tailored Military Force Packages Continued themes among the military failures in counterinsurgency and counterterrorism operations during the early years of the Global War on Terrorism are indiscriminate use of force, lack of cultural understanding, and hyper-focus on tactical gains while failing at the strategic level. US government nation-building efforts on the backs of the military cost our country trillions of dollars, thousands of lives, and years of frustration, bogged-down in an endless quagmire of misunderstanding. US Army Special Forces are selected, trained, equipped, and enabled to clandestinely handle complex problem sets in denied or politically-sensitive environments. Each Special Forces Group is regionally-aligned, with Operational Detachments developing deep cultural understanding through Area Studies and continuous relationship-building with regional state and 26 non-state actors. Special Forces operators understand the complex cultural and security situations in their areas of responsibility and have the language capability and strategic understanding to operate with complete independence of outside support. Frankly, if given the authority and autonomy to do their jobs, Special Forces can coerce, disrupt, or overthrow jihadist organizations unilaterally, or train, advise, and equip foreign security forces to accomplish this task on their own. This can all be done independent of a large, slow, and expensive conventional military occupation. Organizations like al-Qaeda must be kept in a state of constant fear and uncertainty. US Special Operations Forces are uniquely suited to this task. Through structured, rapid application of military force, SOF can find, fix, and finish intended targets with surgical precision. This has proven true in the capture of Saddam Hussein and the elimination of Osama bin Laden and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, among numerous other targets throughout the Global War on Terrorism. Continuing to deny safe havens through short, precise applications of combat power is crucial and does not rely on a conventional military occupation of the target area. Operations such as these, characterized by discriminate use of force and strategic impact, should be the main avenue for denying the relative safety, security, and freedom of maneuver of jihadist organizations. 27 References British Broadcasting Corporation (2017, June 4). Reality check: What is the prevent strategy? Reality Check. https://www.bbc.com/news/election-2017-40151991. Creswell, R., & Haykel, B. (2015, June 1). Battle lines: Want to understand the jihadis? Read their poetry. The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/06/08/battle-lines-jihad-creswell-and-haykel. Dearden, L. (2015, March 21). Young British Muslims declare own jihad against ISIS and other terrorists who 'hijack' Islam. Independent. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/young-british-muslims-declare-own-jihad-against-isis-and-other-terrorists-who-hijack-islam-10146534.html. Dempsey, M. (2015). The national military strategy of the United States of America 2015: The United States military's contribution to national security. The Joint Staff. https://www.jcs.mil/Portals/36/Documents/Publications/UNCLASS_2018_National_Military_Strategy_Description.pdf. Gall, C. (2020, January 31). From armed struggle to peaceful protest, a road still to travel: A veteran of the Afghan jihad working for nonviolent change in Algeria. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/31/world/middleeast/from-armed-struggle-to-peaceful-protest-a-road-still-to-travel.html. Gorka, S. L. (2016). Defeating jihad: The winnable war. Regnery Publishing. Kilcullen, D. J. (2010). Counterinsurgency. Oxford University Press. Nilsson, M. (2019, 18 June) Motivations for jihad and cognitive dissonance: A qualitative analysis of former Swedish jihadists. Studies in Conflict and Terrorism. https://doi.org/10.1080/1057610X.2019.1626091. 28 Porch, D. (2013). Counterinsurgency: Exposing the myths of the new way of war. Cambridge University Press. Qur'an (M. Ali, Trans.; 7th ed.) (2015). Islam International Publications. (Original work published ca. 1537). Venhaus, J. (2010). Why youth join al-Qaeda. Special Report, 236(1), 1-12. https://www.usip. org/sites/default/files/SR236Venhaus.pdf.

Transcript of an oral history interview with William F. "Bill" Lyons, conducted by Sarah Yahm at his office in Boston, Massachusetts, on 10 March 2015, as part of the Norwich Voices oral history project of the Sullivan Museum and History Center. Bill Lyons is a member of the Norwich University Class of 1990; his interview includes a discussion of his experiences as an electrical engineering student at Norwich as well as his later educational endeavors and his career as a planner, engineer, and attorney. His military service in Bosnia and Iraq is also a focus of the interview. ; 1 COL William "Bill" Lyons, NU 1990, Oral History Interview March 10, 2015 At his Boston, MA office Interviewed by Sarah Yahm Transcribed by C.T. Haywood, NU '12 March 19, 2015 SY: I am at Bill Lyons' office in Boston. It is March 10? Is that correct? WL: I think so. It's in that range. SY: It's in that range. It's March 10, 2015 and we're going to be doing an oral history interview. So, yeah you were just, you just started telling me before I turned the tape on about how you ended up at Norwich. So how did you end up at Norwich? WL: So when I was about thirteen I decided that I wanted to be in the military, and I wrote a letter to the Marine Corps asking them when I could enlist. And they informed me that I'd have to wait until I was eighteen but they encouraged me to apply for service academies and for scholarships. So I did. I actually started the process to attend the Naval Academy. I was Barney Frank's nominee in 1986 to attend the Naval Academy. But I did not pass the physical, because I have a lazy left eye and color blindness. So that was traumatic in that that particular dream was not gonna come to fruition. And so it just so happened that two doors down from us on my home street was guy named Wally Burke, who's Class of '86 [siren in background] and Skull and Swords and Honor Committee and all that stuff. And Wally's dad and my dad were friends. Wally's dad was a cop and my father was a firefighter and so my father told me about Norwich, but he simultaneously discouraged me because he really didn't want me to be in the military. SY: Hold on one sec— WL: Sure thing. SY: Because I just realized, oops, that I have my questions right over here. WL: Okay. SY: Um so why didn't you dad want you to be in the military? WL: My father was in the Army from 1958 to 1960. He left the Army early. He got a compassionate discharge because his father was in a TB hospital here in Boston. And my father was in Germany at the time and his older brother was in the Army in Germany, and so one of the boys needed to come home to look after the family. And my father quickly responded to that call. Being a city boy he thought all the outdoorsmanship was really not up his alley. And he was a very disciplined, disciplined man but didn't like the constriction of military life so he took the opportunity to come home early so he only served about eighteen months. And it's not so much that he didn't want me to be in the military, he just thought that he didn't like it so I wouldn't like it and um— SY: Did he just like not being told what to do? 2 WL: Yeah I think that's part of it. He ended up raising his most of his siblings, he was a very independent minded person. So he, he was not accustomed to being directed. He was the director. So he was a private and I think he got busted twice in rank from PFC down to private, PFC to private so that should be some indicator of the fact the life wasn't for him. So, ah in the summer of, between my junior and senior year I only applied to one school. I applied to Norwich because having not having the opportunity to go to the Naval Academy I thought Norwich was a great, um, a great opportunity for me to do what I needed to do. And as I was mentioning I was a, awful awful teenager. SY: Oh come on give me some details. How were you awful? WL: I got into a lot of trouble. I was actually, I was a decent student, studying came too easy for me so I never really learned how to study and I got great grades without doing any work. I worked full time after school and on weekends I was the director of custodial services for a florist bran--chain here in Massachusetts. And because I was working full time I had a lot of money and I was actually making more money than my mother who was working full time at the phone company at the time [car beeps]. And that lead to trouble. I was drinking too much, spending too much time not focused on my studies. I totaled three cars my senior year, one of them was an outright explosion, blew my father's brand new station wagon up. So at the end of my senior year my dad had pretty much had it. But the good news is early, I had applied early admission to Norwich and I got in early. So in November of my senior year I already knew I was all set. And had a good side - I knew I was in. And had a bad side because I knew I didn't have to try anymore so it cut both ways. But I knew that Norwich was the right place for me and um… SY: Had you gone up and visited? WL: I had, I went up with my dad for a brief visit. SY: And what was your impression? WL: You know it's kind of hard to remember, but I remember saying to myself, "This is what I'm meant to do." My father on the other hand was like, "Oooh I don't know" [laughs]. SY: So I wonder about that. So what was your dream, your vision of what being in the military was gonna be like? WL: So another little nitnoid fact- I had applied for a Marine Corps NROTC scholarship and I was notified that I was a recipient, and then about two weeks before school started in August of '85, no I'm sorry August of '86, I was notified that I, they had made a mistake and that the scholarship was no longer available because of my eyesight. So I was like, "You already knew that because you screened me out of the Naval Academy." But nevertheless my father, God bless him, he came up with the cash to pay for tuition. And so it, it just all came together. It really came together quickly and the rest is kinda history. I mean I settled in, I wanted at the time to be a Navy officer and after I took two years of Navy ROTC, and then after realizing there was no way in heck I was ever gonna get a Navy commission I switched to Army ROTC. And they said, "You want to commission? Sure you can have a commission." 3 SY: They were like, "We don't care about that lazy eye." WL: Yeah, so they gave me a contract in February of my junior year and gave me credit for my Navy ROTC. And at that time I was turned off the active duty thing. I had kind of seen it and done it at Norwich and didn't feel the need to do more. So I signed a Guaranteed Reserve Forces Duty commission, and took a commission in the Army Reserve. There was also a way for me to guarantee myself military intelligence as a branch because if you're in a military intelligence reserve unit you automatically get a military intelligence commission which is what I wanted. So that part came together quite nicely. The summer between junior and senior year I actually got, of course I went to the Advanced Camp for ROTC, but actually get to go Airborne School for three weeks and that was a, it was a life altering time just learning, learning to redefine what I thought my limits were. Obviously I learned a lot more about what I was capable of doing and that was a, that was a really good experience for me. And I came back to school ready, you know, I was like, "You know what, I gotta finish this school thing up and get my commission and drive on with life," so. [sound of something falling] [laughs]. SY: Sorry. Dropping things. Yeah. So let's rewind a little bit and ask you about being a Rook. Do you remember your first, do you remember your first day? Do you remember the first? WL: I do, yeah, it's funny I showed up for my first day, I had long, blonde hair because I worked in the outdoors all summer and my hair gets kinda blondish in the summer. And I hadn't had my haircut since the beginning of my senior year in high school so it was just about a year since my hair had been cut. Intentionally, you know, I was like rebelling. And my arm was in a sling. I had actually just had been in an accident. I was body surfing off of Singing Beach in the North Shore of Massachusetts, and there was a hurricane at sea. It was beautiful on the beach but there was a hurricane at sea, the waves were just huge. So I was body surfing and a wave picked me up and threw me on the beach and dislocated my shoulder. So that was maybe two weeks before school started. So I showed up with my arm in a sling and my bleach blonde hair and long hair, so I was instantly labeled "surfer boy," which really wasn't apt for me but that's all they knew was a snap shot in time. And I remember the, they challenged me to do pushups with my arm in the sling. And I was in much, much better shape than I am today and I actually did one-armed pushups and that was like the instant challenge I needed to be able to push back. And so I kinda got their instant respect because I dropped and started doing one-armed pushups. And so that was an interesting time, you know, I did everything I could to fit in but you know running was a real challenge with a arm in a sling, so. But I adapted and it was fun. SY: Did they make any exceptions for you because your arm was in a sling? WL: Yeah, you know they were all like, "Oh you don't have to do this now," and I was like, "I just want to fit in. I want to, I don't want to be the kid that's off to the side, you know, getting special treatment." So I worked really hard to fit in. There were obvious, I couldn't do sit ups so that was kind of out of the question. So, but did everything I could to fit in. SY: Do you remember being scared? 4 WL: You know I--scared is kind of the wrong word in the sense that it was more bewildering like trying to take it all in and understand because people are barking at me from every direction and I'm sure they do that now. All the barking is intended to have that bewildering effect, and it was very effective on me and I was struggling just to focus on what was important and who seemed to be the person that was in charge so I could follow their instructions. And I don't ever remember being fearful in the sense of, you know for life and limb, more just alarmed that I had to keep up with this dizzying pace of things so that I didn't fall behind. Because I had seen kids fall behind and then they get targeted, and then when they get targeted they kind of get drummed out and I didn't want to be that person, so. It was all I could do to just make sure that I wasn't the person getting picked on. SY: So something I've been thinking about, you know not somebody who has a military background, I've been reading a little bit about comparative military training like in, you know in Scandinavia and various different places. So to what degree do you think the Rook training and that sort of boot camp model really does help you when you are in the field later? How much is a residue from sort of previous understandings and how much is it really what's needed? WL: Yeah, I'm a very strong believer in a rigorous Rookdom, and as near as I can tell it's gotten more rigorous. I know they have much more stringent physical fitness standards than we had, and its substantially longer - Rookdom is substantially longer, or at least unrecognized Rookdom is substantially longer. For me I thought it was critical because it really--the basic training model is really about tearing you down so that everybody is more or less equal in terms of their ego and their psyche and and all of the individuality, you know it's all designed to strip all that off and then build you back up in the model that they want you to be in. I thought Norwich was incredibly effective at that, very, very effective. And I think reflecting on that it was really important to me, like I had some really good core values that my father and mother inculcated into me - honesty, integrity, and all those. Hard work, I had a very hard work ethic. And that was all there but it wasn't completely formed. And so my, my ex—my Rook year experience at Norwich was they tore me down to that base level and figured out how to build on it and make it all fit together with my individual personality, but in a fairly structured way. And I think that that, personally I think that made all the difference in my success in life because it preserved my work ethic, it preserved my core values, and then showed me how to take those characteristics and use those to my advantage in business and in the military and in all facets of life, really. So I give Norwich a lot of credit for making me the man that I am. SY: Yeah, interesting. Do you remember sort of a high and a low of your time at Norwich? WL: Yes. So I'll give you the low. I discovered my entire Navy ROTC class cheating on a test. They were in the barracks. I walked into a room, they had the quiz that I had just taken and they were kibitzing about the answers on the quiz. And I said, "Guys, I'm not gonna say anything, but go back, give them the test and tell them you need a different test So that everything's good." And they didn't do it and I, I remember the gut wrenching decision to tell the instructor. And the instructor, I remember him vividly, a guy named Lieutenant Fricke, he said, "Well I didn't see it and I don't, there's no, nothing to suggest that it actually happened other than you." And I said, "Well, I'm telling you it happened." And he said, "Well in the absence of something else to 5 corroborate that there's nothing I intend to do about it." And so I complained to the school. I actually didn't, someday I can dig up all the letters I wrote to President Todd and to Tim Donovan, who I've since become quite friendly with, and I complained pretty vocally. I wrote a letter to the Guidon, complaining that the school wouldn't take action on this and how contradictory to the school's value it was. And that was a very troubling time, that was my junior year I believe. It was a very troubling time for me, I just felt that Norwich didn't rise to the occasion to seize an opportunity to, to live its values and… SY: And what about your peers? Did, they knew you had reported them? WL: Ah you know, obviously a lot of heartache with some of my peers. To this day some of them probably wouldn't say hello to me. I'm okay with that. It's, you know, it is what it is and they are who they are, and I'd rather pick friends that are, share my values. SY: And you acted with integrity so if they can't handle that they can't handle that, yeah. WL: Yeah. The friends that I had are still my friends and so, you know, they got it, they were like, "You did the right thing, so hold your head high and be proud of what you did," so. SY: You know I see that today with students, that they seem torn between two things that Norwich teaches - one is the loyalty to the Corps, right? WL: Yeah. SY: And the other is this idea of sticking up for what's right even if pushes against the group and I'm wondering, that's a really great illustration of that conflict. WL: Absolutely. SY: Did you notice any other conflicts like that? Any other people struggling with that? Did you have other incidents like that? WL: I can't point to any. You now there were rumored to be all kinds of activities on campus that were, were in one sense these incredible examples of loyalty - we'll use the Knight Riders as an example, right, this mythical organization that supposedly existed. And then, so they're loyal to each other, and supposedly to the University, and allegedly worked to the betterment of the University, at least in their own minds. And then of course there's the things that they were accused of doing that some would say that they did do in terms of beating people up that didn't fulfill the you know the model cadet role. And so you know I think that's another example of it. I didn't personally witness any of that, but I heard plenty of the, we call it the rumint, you know rumor intelligence about that sort of thing. I didn't, I have to say in my four years at Norwich I didn't really indulge in that much, so it wasn't an important part of my experience. But I think that in any organization, the Army is an excellent example, there are constant, there's constant tension between loyalty to your brothers and to your service and the integrity of doing the right thing all the time. And, you know, the history of the Army is rife with people that make wrong decisions for the right reasons, if you want to say it that way. And so, you know, it's very, very hard to straddle very important values that span or are in that dynamic tension. And that's a really good example of it. 6 SY Yeah and I think, I'm gonna sort of ask you about that as we go through and talk about your military career when you leave Norwich that theme, because the citizen soldier seems to me be about that, that conflict, right? Especially because you have the Corps and then you a liberal arts education, right? And I talk to professors all the time who are like, "And I'm teaching them critical thinking and they're also learning how to follow orders. And sometimes they don't know in my class that they're allowed to disagree." You know it's like a different mentality, yeah. Okay, so your senior year you get commissioned by the Army? WL: Yes. So that was probably the highlight and I, obviously you would hope that would be a highlight is graduation, commissioning, I think just prior to that I found out that I got an A on my senior project, and that was a huge milestone for me. My, my early years at Norwich were marked by severe underperformance academically. I finished my freshman year at a 1.8. SY: Why do you think? WL: I failed Calc I. That is really bad for Electrical Engineering students [laughs]. So I had to retake Calc I over the summer, but not taking Calc II in my second half of my freshman year prevented me from taking Physics I, and it had a huge snowball effect. So I ended up graduating from Norwich with a 2.32 grade point average which was, I think, the third worst in my class, or it's in that range. [clears throat] My roommate happened to be lower than me so there was at least one lower than me. SY: That's always nice [laughs]. WL He's still still one of my best friends. But the fact that I managed - first of all had to catch up. So I ended up, there was one semester I took 22 credits just to get back on track because I came home from my freshman year and I told my dad that, "I think I need to change majors. This electrical engineering thing, I'm, it's not working out for me." And he said, "I'm paying for the next three years. You can finish up in the next three years. Your best chance of doing that is to stay in electrical engineering. So go back to school and get it done." So I did. I really wanted to change to diplomacy, and it didn't work that way. So I really had to catch up, I really did take a huge course load which of course, you know all my grades suffered when I was spreading myself so thin and trying to do Corps activities, et cetera. SY: Do you think it was also you didn't have to learn study skills in high school? WL: Yeah oh yeah, definitely. I mean Calc I, I was totally unprepared for the academic rigor of Calc I. Just totally not prepared for that, and it showed. So I did, I did the whole catch up thing and so by senior year I actually had a relatively normal course load again. And the fact that I, I think I got a 3.1 my senior year, to imagine that 3.1 still only got me to a 2.32 overall [laughs] should tell you something. But the fact that I got an A on my senior project was just a moral victory for me. And then so you know the crowning achievement of course was commissioning and graduation and everything that went with that. I was only the third person in my father's extended huge Irish family to ever get a college degree at that point. SY: So was your family ecstatic? 7 WL: Yeah, so the whole clan descended on Northfield. My father had eleven sisters and brothers of which one had passed by then, so everybody else descended on Northfield. They rented like a whole slew of condos over at Suagrbush and it turned out to be like a weeklong celebration. It was really quite something um… SY: That's awesome. And these are all like working class Boston cops and firefighters? WL: Yeah so my dad grew up in Roxbury and he was a firefighter. He ended up in Natick. He was an outlier, he actually moved all the way out to Natick at the time. One of my uncles was a Boston firefighter; another one was teamster, he drove an oil truck; another one owned a cleaning business. So they were working class people. Proud people. And my father was a very, very bright man but he decided he wasn't gonna go to college so that others could. That was really his decision. And so it was, it was you know it was a celebration of kind of that, "Well finally somebody's gonna move up the middle class," type of thing. So it was great, it was a lot of fun. SY: Yeah, and then what'd you do right afterwards? WL: So my, my orders to my military intelligence officer basic course weren't, didn't even exist yet. I got commissioned and went back into my Army Reserve unit but I had to do my officer basic course, and the next available slot was the following February. So I worked the summer at the tent company where I had been working summers, and then that job ended because the summer ended, and then I went back to work for the florist that I had worked at all through high school. And I worked there until February and then I, so that was kind of interesting working as a electrical engineer as a custodian at a florist company. And then I went to my officer basic course in Fort Huachuca, Arizona for six months. And that just so happened to coincide with the kick off for the Gulf War. So I was, you know, sitting in classes in Arizona trying desperately to try and get released so I could go to the war which is, you know, that's, it was the big show, who knows if there's ever gonna be another one, you know that sort of thing. SY: Oh back in the days when we thought there were no more wars. WL: Yes, right, Cold War was over and the Gulf War was the big show and— SY: Right that was gonna be it, the end. WL: So yeah, so of course they weren't gonna release me because I needed my officer basic course before they released me and then by the time the course was over it was all over but the crying, so. It was such a fast war. SY: And did you know anything about, I mean, did you know about Iraq at that time? Did you know anything about Kuwait? Did you know anything about Saddam? Had that been something you'd gotten at Norwich? Like that geopolitical understanding? WL: Yeah I had no geopolitical understanding from my time at Norwich. I did get a lot of that in the reserves and at the officer basic course. So I had a very, very solid footing on the geopolitical issues kind of as it was happening, I suppose you'd say, but definitely not while I was at Norwich. I was very, I had you know my, my ROTC unit, I was the first sergeant of the 8 freshman company when I was there. And I had no Corps responsibilities, and I had my electrical engineering curriculum. I was the president of IEEE, the Institute of Electrical Electronics Engineers, the student chapter, so nothing like picking the kid with the lowest cume in your class to be president of the social club. So that really took up my time and ah, there really wasn't a lot of time for much else. SY: Yeah that makes sense. Okay so you're all ready to go and the wars over. WL: Yup. SY: So what do you do instead? WL: So I came home and that was probably a lifetime low point. The economy in late '91 was absolutely atrocious. It was awful. No jobs anywhere. I went on so many attempted job interviews, you know just showing up at companies and filling out an application. And all the tech companies all over New England, and there was just nothing. And I ended up, let's see I sold pots and pans for a little while. I worked in a call center for a little while, and I was pumping gas for five dollars an hour in April of '92, so this was just about two years after graduation, when a good friend of my dad's drove into the gas station where I was pumping gas. It just so happened that the guy that owned the gas station was a selectman and I had run his campaign because my father was very active in town politics, and the guy that pulled in was a very good friend of the gas station owner and my dad. And at the time he was the Deputy Commissioner of Massachusetts Highway Department. And so he looked at me and he said, "Bill, why are you pumping gas? Don't you have an electrical engineering degree?" I said, "Yup. But there's just no jobs." And he said, "Well show up on Monday, you'll have a job." And I was like, "Show up where?" [laughs] He said, "Show up at 10 Park Plaza, that's where the Highway Department is. I'm sure we could use an electrical engineer." So that was my big break. I ended going to work for the Highway Department for two and a half years, and found a home and a career in an industry that I'm, I've been very fortunate to grow up in. And, you know its proof positive that family and your connections are as important as what you know. And that certainly worked to my advantage. SY: Yeah absolutely, and then you gone on, you've got like a gazillion degrees. WL: [both laugh] Well I'm, despite my undergraduate experience I've really come to appreciate learning and growing intellectually. So I've pretty much been in school ever since I graduated in one capacity or another with short breaks. There was my officer basic course, then my advanced course, and then after that you go to the Combined Arms and Services Staff School. And sprinkled throughout there I took some graduate classes at Northeastern, at UMASS Lowell, and then I completed the Command and General Staff College. And I really got bit by the bug, I decided in 1999 that I wanted to go to law school. And I'd always dreamed of going to law school when I was at Norwich but I, with a cume of 2.32 it was highly unlikely that I was gonna get in. SY: Well you also didn't have time to take classes that weren't electrical engineering classes.9 WL: That's true that's true. So, and and I set out to be a patent lawyer to utilize my technical background in the field of law. And in the '90s I worked for a consulting firm called HTSD and they did a lot of Wal Mart related work - site planning and transportation planning, traffic engineering. And I really found a niche presenting to local planning boards. And it just so happened I was elected to my hometown's planning board from '94 to '97, I think. And so I found, kind of found a home, I found a comfort zone with the planning board process. And I was attending a lot of planning board hearings and there would be a big high falutin' downtown Boston lawyer, and there would be a local planning lawyer, and then they'd put me out because I was articulate and could present technical information in a way that lay people could understand it. And I was at that time billing out at about 120 dollars an hour and the [clears throat] two downtown, the two lawyers were well above that, and they just sat there and listened. And so it kind of occurred to me, I'm like, you know, "I can sit there and listen for a lot more money and be happy" [laughs]. So I really decided in my mind that I wanted to go to law school. And so in '99 I left the consulting firm and I went to work for the City of Somerville as the traffic and parking director and worked in that capacity directly for the mayor. And I was in her office one day, at that time I was, I don't know, thirty-one, and she said, "Bill, it's pretty clear to me you don't want to be traffic engineer the rest of your life. You've good political skills, and you've good communication skills, what do you really want to do?" and I said, "Well I really want to go to law school but I don't think I can get in. I have an application pending at Suffolk, you know I just don't have the grades. I did okay on the LSAT." And so she said, "Sit right there." So she went into her private office and then she came out and she said, "You're gonna get a letter of acceptance in three days. Don't embarrass me." So she pulled a string, again it's who you know not necessarily what you know, and I went to law school. It actually took me seven years to graduate because I deployed twice. I deployed in 2001 to Bosnia, and then 2003 to Iraq, and so uh I had to take military leaves of absence for those two. The school was great about it, but. So in 2007, believe it or not, I finally completed the law school program at night. And like I said, you know I've been very, very oriented towards continuing my academic interests ever since then. I did the Joint Forces Staff College, and I did the Army War College, and I did - of course the War College is a master's degree producing program. And then the, I did the master's in transportation and urban systems at North Dakota State University. So it's fun. SY: You have a lot of degrees. WL: Its fun. I enjoy it so you know it's something that I feel incomplete if I'm not constantly studying, learning something. SY: I mean you're preaching to the choir, I have two master's degrees and am gonna go for a third at some point. WL: There you go. SY: I hear you. So let's go back, let's rewind actually, and let's go back to your deployments. WL: Okay. SY: So it's 2001. 10 WL: Yup. SY: So can you tell me that story? WL: Sure, in December of 1999 I was alerted that I was gonna get mobilized. Is that right? No, December of 2000 I was alerted that I was gonna get mobilized for Bosnia rotation. And at this time it was strictly a peacekeeping mission and there were actually several opportunities for me to jump off that bandwagon. But once I was starting to go down the path I was like, you know, "I've spent my entire time in the Reserve wanting to someday get mobilized. And here I am, you know, I have an opportunity to get off the train and I just really wanted to fulfill that particular aspect of my life and go on a mobilization." SY: Yeah, what's the desire to mobilize? What was the…? WL: Well I think on several levels. One is you know you get so invested in all that training. I mean if there's one thing the Army is particularly good at is training, constantly training and it's a huge investment. And I felt like I just wanted to realize the return on that investment, on some level. I also felt like the citizen soldier mantra of Alden Partridge was kind of a river running through that whole thing, because at the time the active Army was trying to turn that mission over to the Reserve and National Guard, and it just seemed to me a very logical extension of everything that had been my life to that point. You know it was a peacekeeping mission, it wasn't a combat mission. I had, you know, I don't know how much time you've been in Somerville, it's a tough town so one could say some of what I did there is peacekeeping. And it was, you know, it was it was nation building it was community building and to me that felt very satisfying, it felt like a good match for everything that I had to offer at that time. And I just really wanted to see that through. SY: Yeah. WL: So we mobilized in August of 2001. So there was a nine month buildup of this constantly training and repetitive drills and paperwork. SY: And what was peacekeeping, I mean obviously the mission became different, but what was peacekeeping gonna look like? WL: Peacekeeping was supposed to be having a continuous presence in the communities that had been torn apart by the civil war. In part to provide a buffer between the warring factions, but perhaps more importantly to set the example of how to do things right, to provide that beacon of democracy and hope and and and what, you know, the model of western democracy should look like. So a lot of it was anticipated to be monitoring elections, and providing a presence in the towns so that there was no opportunity for the warring factions to engage in what could be provocative. SY: Weapons or no weapons? WL: Um weapons. SY: Weapons. 11 WL: Yup and there wasn't, it wasn't expected you'd need the weapons and not to split hairs but the Army calls that form of peacekeeping peace enforcement, whereas true peacekeeping is without weapons. And so you can argue one way or the other, you know, what the intended mission was. NATO calls it peacekeeping, we were calling it peace enforcement, but it's because we had weapons. So we mobilize in August. We went to Fort Bragg for a couple weeks to train up with our active duty counterparts, got on a plane on September 10, flew from Fort Bragg to Fort Drum, picked up a whole bunch of soldiers at Fort Drum, and then flew from Fort Drum to Ireland, and then landed in Ireland. And then when we took off from Ireland and flew to Tuzla Main, which is the airfield at the Eagle Base, in that time the attacks in 9/11 occurred. So we landed at Eagle Base, and the whole plane cheered [laughs] because it was the culmination of literally ten months of training. We're like, "Yes, we finally made it. " There was on our plane a whole bunch of reservists from New York, New York City in particular. So when we coasted to the end of the runway we all expected to get off fairly quickly and nothing was happening. So we were all kind of bewildered, you know. And then the post command sergeant major, we didn't know he was the command sergeant major at the time, but the post command sergeant major came on the plane and he said, "I regret to inform of what's taken place in the United States. And gentlemen, ladies, the United States is at war and stand by for further instructions." So me and a bunch of my friends on the plane we were, you know, we kind of concluded in our minds that this was a drill. The Army's prone to coming up with these ridiculous scenarios and saying, "Okay you have one hour to brief the commander on what you would do under these circumstances." So, you know, we're all huddling, "What do we do, you know, what do you think we should do?" And we really had resolved in our minds that it was an exercise. And then not too long after that junior enlisted guy came on the plane and he said, "Okay, we really don't know what's going on in the world but we're in a predominately Muslim country. Everybody is gonna get their ammunition basic load as they get off the plane, and stand by for further instructions. Most of you guys are standing post until all this gets sorted out." So right then we knew it was no kidding. So the kids that were from New York City on the plane were obviously were very concerned about their families, and there were lines set up to use the very few phone lines on base. SY: Hey and we're going. WL: Excellent. SY: Look at that. Okay I feel good about that. Here we go. Okay so you're in the intel business, the mission is changing. WL: The mission changed. My job was to be the requirements manager, which is to determine what things get collected on. And then there are different means of collection. There's foot patrols, which was the vast majority of our intelligence collection. We had aerial intelligence platforms, and signals intelligence platforms, and various other means of intelligence collection. But my job was to figure out which asset would collect against which requirement, and then my boss who was the collections manager, would task out all those tasks to the various subordinate elements. And, you know, I was anticipating that my job would be mostly collecting about economic intelligence, political intelligence, issues related to governance. And it turned out that 12 there was still some aspect of that, but I really had two tasks: one was to help catch persons indicted for war crimes, which was our exit strategy to catch the we call them PIFWCs (Persons Indicted for War Crimes), PFWCs. So one job was to try and track those folks down so they could be captured by Special Forces, and the other job was to do directed patrols in neighborhoods and areas that were the more conservative and known extremist-view Muslim groups. So when Bosnia had its civil war a lot of freedom fighters actually came from the Middle East and from Northern Africa to Bosnia and settled there, married into the community, and so those communities were obviously of great concern to us at the time because we really didn't know what exactly was gonna occur. So that was, that took up a lot of time. SY: And what [coughs] what did you end up concluding about those communities? WL: Um so some, there was some activity there that was responded to appropriately. I was tangentially involved in the, the detention of the Sarajevo group that was trying to break into to U.S. Embassy. And that group actually ended up in GTMO so I was partially involved in the intelligence lead up to that particular operation. And I think that's probably the biggest operation that we were involved in. We were involved in other couple other operations and then on the other side I was very involved in the PIFWC hunting, which I thought was probably one of more rewarding parts of my time there. SY: Yeah I would imagine. Yeah and so what ended up, did you capture some people? WL: Ah yes, whose names they are anymore I can't remember. SY: Right, unless it's Milosevic, I won't remember either. WL: No, we were—the guy that we were really hunting was Radovan Karadžić and we didn't catch him. The French dimed us out and he escaped because the French gave him a heads up. SY: Huh, why they do that? WL: Um, that's a really good question. The French were very sympathetic to the Serbs, and I don't really know why that was but they had a very sympathetic posture towards the Serbs in the conflict. So they caught the guy on his cell phone telling Karadžić to escape and so he made a very speedy exit out of Bosnia. But from that point forward there was some very deep soul searching about who we shared intelligence with and that was a pretty tough thing to lose out on, you know. SY: Hm. You don't think of the French being people U.S. intelligence has to watch out for. WL: Yeah well I mean they're, they're, you know on a geopolitical level they are actually one of our biggest adversaries from a spying point of view. SY: Really? WL: Yeah. SY: Fascinating. WL: Yeah there's all kinds of open source documents on that you can read about [laughs]. 13 SY: Okay I'll go educate myself about that later. Um okay, so that's Bosnia and then there's Iraq. That's 2003. WL: Yeah so I was home for 10 months and the Iraq War was spinning up, and one of my closest friends who was my boss in Bosnia called me up and said, "Bill, we're putting together the band. We're going back, we're going back on active duty. Do you want to come?" And I said, "Well, let me think about it, talk to my wife, see what I wanted to do." And after a lot of soul searching you it just seemed to be the right thing to do to go with people I knew rather than wait a couple of years and be an individual mobilization placement and go with people I didn't know. So, you know, a couple of days' worth of serious soul searching and you know thinking about all that it would mean to my family, I decided to go. So I got mobilized in February of 2003, went to Fort Dix for our pre-mobilization training and activities. Spent about a month there, then got sent to a forward operating base called Camp Virginia in Kuwait, spent another month there getting all of our final shots and getting our vehicles in country and getting ready to go. And then during the ground war we got the go-ahead to go over the berm and head into Iraq. So we had a seventy-five vehicle convoy that took off out of Camp Virginia and convoyed just about twenty-four hours straight all the way to Camp Balad, which had numerous different names over the years, but it was Balad Army Base. And we ended up there for abou--I was there for about a month and a half. When we got there everybody they just said, "Freeze wherever you at, the ground war is over. And now were gonna consolidate on the objectives." And so we stayed there and made camp for about a month and a half. And then there was a call for augmentees to go to Baghdad to help staff up the new headquarters for the theater - the entity was called Combined Joint Task Force 7. So I was deemed not essential to my battalion headquarters. I had been the assistant S3 battle captain for operations and plans, and so they just said, "Listen you get a whole bunch of extra captains down there at the 325th MI Battalion, cough up two and send them to Baghdad and please send ones with human intelligence experience." So I didn't actually have human intelligence experience, but they sent me anyways. And me and one of my best friends got sent to Baghdad. He ended up being the battle captain of the CJ2X which is Combined Joint, 2X is human intelligence section. And I ended up being the human intelligence operations officer for the theater. And that, phew boy, that was probably one of the most traumatic, interesting, dynamic, fulfilling, every possible emotion you can think of. SY: So let talk about 'em, let's tease it apart. So what's, what's traumatic, what's fulfilling, what's? WL: Well it was a fairly easy job from June, I think I got there June 6, until mid-to late summer, and then the insurgency started. So it was initially really exciting to be in to be involved in the setting up of this new headquarters and the staffing of it and the policies and procedures that went with it and standard operating procedures and writing. We were still doing detainment operations and one of my responsibilities was again was to think about the requirements, what we needed to collect intelligence on from a detainee point of view. And I had a hundred tactical human teams out in the field that were collecting intelligence, and my job was to figure what they should collect on. So I had this huge enterprise that I was working on. I was only an Army captain and it was a huge scope for somebody with very little experience in that realm. And I,14 you know I sip from a fire hose for about two months, and learned a lot, and filled my brain up with a lot of cool experiences that I only learned about in books. And so that's kind of the fulfilling part. And then when the insurgency started we had a commanding general named Ricardo Sanchez, Lieutenant General Ricardo Sanchez, and he turned out to be perhaps the most toxic leader I've ever met in my life. He would, he would question everybody's performance of their specific jobs without any inkling of what their job actually was. He was heard to say things like, in front of thousands of people in the battle update brief, he'd say things like, "Why are we catching so many people and detaining them, why don't we just kill them?" So that environment bread a lot of, just a toxic environment. And if you're, if you're a malevolent person looking for an excuse to be and have an outlet for that malevolency, that's a license. And, and what that ultimately, in my experience, devolved into was the Abu Ghraib problem. So for me in August, August-September of 2003 we had an interrogation and detention facility over at Camp Cropper which is on Baghdad International Airport, and the international community for the Red Cross came and said, "These are inhumane living conditions. You gotta get these detainees out of here." So working with the MPs we had to find someplace new to put them and it just so happened that the prison, the maximum security prison out of Abu Ghraib - they're actually four prisons on the Abu Ghraib complex - had just begun renovations and it was intended to be used by civi-by the Iraqis for civilian detainees. And, and so we went out to take a look at it at the provost marshal's suggestion, and determined that it would be an absolutely magnificent facility for this. And kind of reflecting on the citizen soldier model, on my team of intelligence guys my driver and NCO in his civilian life was a corrections officer at Rikers Island; and my company commander was the president of state correctional workers in Massachusetts, the Correctional Worker's Union and he was, he was a, correction he was a corrections officer here in Massachusetts. So I brought them with me and I said, "You know we have to find some place to put the worst of the worst, the people we want to interrogate, what do you think of this facility?" And they were like, "This is perfect. This is the right place." SY: What made it perfect? WL: It was, ah, it was well organized, it was clean, it was neat, it wasn't in the bombed out parts, it wasn't in a mud puddle. It was just in immaculate shape because it had been renovated and it was perfectly suited for an interrogation facility. SY: So the thinking in some ways was that it would be humane? WL: Yes. Absolutely that was the absolute intention was to—when you have high level detainees you don't want them to think about anything else other than what you want them to think about. You don't want them thinking about how to escape the mortar attacks at night, you don't want them to—you want them to be thinking about whatever, whatever you're working on with them in terms of intelligence collection. So it was really an optimal facility. And so that was, you know that was a high point in my deployment. It was. I actually have pictures of me behind bars at Abu Ghraib. SY: I saw those pictures. WL: That's the day I picked Abu Ghraib. It was my staff action that made Abu Ghraib happen.15 SY: And they're really chilling in retrospect but at the time, right? And then and then it looks like you're seeing all the remains of Saddam Hussein's prison too. It looks like a lethal injection bottle and signs for death row and so I'm-I was trying to imagine what you guys were talking about when you were walking—there's graffiti, super weird pornographic graffiti. What were you guys talking about when you were exploring that building? WL: You know we'd already been briefed that Saddam executed about 30,000 people at that jail in his reign of terror. And we also knew that some pretty despicable things had happened out there. And so, you know, it was all to us almost surreal to be walking around and seeing all that wild graffiti, and the, you know we don't really know what was in those bottles but you can [laughs], you can make all kind of informed guesses. And then to actually go in the death house which, which ultimately got walled in so that people wouldn't go into it so it could be preserved for war crimes. Um, I mean that that to me was the closest thing that I have ever felt to death because you could smell death. It was it was an awful, awful, awful place. So that, you know, was traumatic on some level but the breadth of the experience for me was just absolutely incredible in terms of the scope of what I was involved in. SY: So let's go back to the citizen soldier idea to the idea of the ethical soldier. So what do you think happened there? What turned it into what it became? WL: So there was this enormous pressure starting with Secretary of Defense - Undersecretary of Defense - all the way down to Ricardo Sanchez: "We need to get more intelligence, more actionable intelligence so we can stop this insurgency." And the pressure, I can't even begin to describe the pressure that these people, these senior leaders were under. And I, I have the luxury now at this point in my career to have a sense of what that strategic leadership's like and how, how difficult it is to manage political expectations and, you know, the realities of a war torn environment. And I guess I can see how a twisted mind can get twisted to the point of losing the ability to be a genuine leader. And that's what happened. At all ranks people that could twist their social values to suit ends that were inconsistent with those values, those people were everywhere. And it permeated all the way down to the lowest level, it really did. I wasn't, I didn't personally didn't meet any of the MPs that were involved in the atrocities that happened at Abu Ghraib. I did know two of the intelligence people that were involved, not on a friendly basis but they were they were junior enlisted and I knew who they were and they weren't bad people, they just caught up in a very ugly situation. And so I think it was that that just that tiered level of toxic leadership that permeated everything - results now, don't care what the cost is. And, and I learned a lot from that experience. I learned, I learned really how easy it is for well-intentioned, well-managed groups to get off track because there's this abject fear and and apprehension about failing. Because you're failing your brothers in arms when they're getting killed every night from mortar attacks and roadside bombs, and so this this constant drumbeat of "Your brothers are dying, your sisters are dying on the roads of Iraq. You have to do something, you have to get this intelligence." And so when people say that enough, and you live through enough depravity, it's not hard to imagine how people can lose it and I think that's what happened. I really do. SY: And now you're a colonel so now you are higher in the leadership. How, how as a leader do you think you can prevent this type of thing from happening again? 16 WL: That's a, that's a good question. I've taken the last five years of my career and really focused on mentorship. I sit down with every single officer that I rate or senior rate and I'm, unfortunately I'm one of the rare people that does this. One on one I devote an hour at a time to each and every one of them and really have a conversation about values and how values are the foundation of citizen soldiery, because all my soldiers are reservists, and how values are really the foundation of good ethical leadership. And it might sound weird to have an hour long conversation about values but that time goes quickly when you have people that are engaged in it, and I can tell which ones get it and which ones don't get it. And the ones that get it are the ones that I invest my time in and the ones that just sit there and go, "Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir." "Okay [laughs], you don't really get it, so you know, you're not really on track." And that's how my ratings fall out. So that's my way of giving back, I guess, is to try and identify the people that I think have the moral footing necessary to be a strategic leader. SY: And so [coughs] if you were gonna give Norwich advice about how to train ethical leaders, right, who can who can stand up when things are toxic right, who can have integrity. What advice would you give them? WL: Excellent question. When I was a cadet, not a Norwich cadet, but an Army ROTC cadet and to some extent the Norwich thing, making second lieutenants was kind of a cookbook operation. It was "Here's the recipe. Put him in the box, sprinkle all the dust around him, shake it up, enough will stick. Send him all to all these very regimented courses. Get him smart about how the Army works and stick him in the force." And I think that was, I know that was a very Cold War mentality - shake and baking officers. Today's world is so much more complex. SY: Okay hold on one sec [sirens outside of office, interview pauses]. [interview resumes] WL: So now we live in the age of the strategic corporal, where the lowest private through social media can literally influence the battle. Abu Ghraib is an example of that, those pictures got out. And ah, so you have to teach leaders—it's much less a recipe than it is a crafting. Every individual needs to be crafted. They have to understand the strategic implications, they need to be taught how to think critically and creatively. The very volatile world that we live in with globalization, urbanization, mass communications, climate change—all these things weren't even in our vocabulary when I was a second lieutenant, because we were focused on the Cold War. And now our threats are more likely than not, the future threats are less about kinetic threats, somebody shooting at you, and more like what happens when a city of 24 million people gets hit with a tidal wave. And then what do you do? And you're a second lieutenant and you get put in charge of a bunch of people in that environment. There's no way that you can possibly teach a second lieutenant how to handle every single one of those situations. Whereas when I was a second lieutenant you had a cookbook, you followed the cook book, "Don't deviate outside of this, you'll be good." Now we have to encourage them to look outside of the four corners of their little world and figure out how what's on the right and the left is gonna impact their operation. And, you know, the military talks now not about the unknown but the unknowable. So as an intelligence officer the unknown was pretty daunting. My job was to 17 figure out what wasn't known and how to go know it, how to collect that information. What we talk now about the unknowable, the implication being, you can't know [laughs]. You can come up with various constructs of what that unknowable thing might do, and how you cope with that, but it's literally unknowable, you'll never know. And so that framework has to be driven into the lowest levels because those kid—those are the kids that are gonna make it survive. They're gonna go into villages with people who are living primitively and try and infuse in them our democratic Western values, and help them with development and conflict at the most elementary level. And that is not something you can get out of textbooks at Norwich. You have to go out in the wide world and see that. I love the fact that Norwich has a very aggressive international program now, because that is absolutely - I am utterly convinced that the future of education has to involve an international component so that you see, touch and feel how other people live and have an appreciation for other, other value systems other than Western value systems. SY: Seems like anthropology classes should be required too. WL: Language class, anthropology class. I know it's awfully hard to do that when you have a technical discipline like electrical engineering, but I think that it's we are doing our nation a disservice if we don't educate our children and our young adults to live in an increasingly global world. Insularity is the enemy of America's success, it really is. So I'm utterly persuaded by that. And a little aside - when I grew up in the Army it was all about the Cold War, the Russians were our enemies, anything to do with Russia was like, "ooh." And so just as an example of how things change, in Bosnia in 2002 I had a Russian Spetsnaz colonel - full colonel, I was a captain - I had a Russian Spetsnaz full colonel working for me, doing collection plans for the intelligence that the Russians were doing in their sector. We had a Russian sector. And the guy's name was Colonel Volkov and I befriended the guy, professionally, not personally, I befriended the guy. And we ended up having a very good cordial relationship to the point where on Defenders of the Motherland Day in, I want to say it was February or March of 2002, he invited me to be his distinguished guest at the Defenders of the Motherland parade and ceremony. And I ended up getting placed in the front row right next to the CG, and the CG sat down and he goes, "You're in the wrong place, move back captain, you don't, you're not a distinguished visitor." And I said, "Actually, I am, Colonel Volkov invited me." And he looked at me like, "What? That doesn't make any sense." And Colonel Volkov showed me that cooperation, even in today's environment, is possible, you know when you get down to the human level. He invited us to that event and then held a private reception for us with vodka and smoked salmon and toast and cheese. And then we moved from to that private reception to his group's his little special forces bar on the Russian base and we drank there for like four hours. And then we were all trying to leave and one of the traditions is to cut the patch off your uniform and exchange patches. So I was in the middle of cutting my patch off my uniform and the colonel was looking very longingly at my Gerber knife, it was a very basic folding knife. And I said, "Sir, would you like my knife as a gift?" And he said, "I could never accept," through his translator, he was like, "I could never accept such a generous gift." And I said, "Come on it's a thirty dollar knife," and I put it in his hand. And he goes, "And I must repay you." So he takes me to his private quarters. Now you have to keep in mind I'm on a Russian Army base in the middle of Bosnia and me and this colonel walk off into the woods arm and arm, half in the bag. And I'm gone, and all my 18 colleagues are like, "Where did Lyons go?" So I disappeared for an hour. He took me back to his private quarters. We drank Slobovicz and chatted a little bit down there, and then he reached into uni-his closet and he took his uniform, and he took every badge off his uniform and he said, "Is this a good enough gift?" And I was dumbfounded like, I have now all these Spetsnaz badges from Russia. And I said, "Sure." I'd have taken two, but I'll take it, you know? So I put it in my pocket, we had another shot of Slobovicz and then it occurred to me, "Oh my God, like I've been gone like an hour with a Russian Spetsnaz colonel and if they're not totally freaking out, something's wrong." So we go back and you know frantic, "Oh my God, thank God you're okay." And I went back to Eagle Base that night and I just reflected that a mere three years earlier we were mortal enemies, and to have that experience at that juncture in my life was just remarkable, remarkable. And it just proof positive that whatever today's situation is three years now it is not what you think it's gonna be and and and if Norwich doesn't produce people that can anticipate those changes and be ready for those challenges. You can't know them all, but you have to have the intellectual capacity to cope with them all, to adapt to them all. SY: And not knee jerk prejudices against entire peoples and populations or religions, right? WL: Exactly. SY: Because lo and behold [laughs]. WL: Yup, exactly. So that really opened my mind up to how important it is be, and I used the word agile because you have to be intellectually agile. You have to understand and perceive on a very subtle level all the little changes that are going around the world, and if you're not capable of doing that, you know, we're gonna make colossal strategic mistakes. The strategic corporal is gonna make a big blunder and jeopardize an entire national security strategy. And who better than to do that than citizen soldiers that have one leg in the civilian world and understand things from the civilian populous point of view, and one leg in the military world who have a greater appreciation of military strategy and tactics and operations. I think the citizen soldier brings that dimension to, a very much needed dimension to the national security strategy. And incidentally many senior Army leaders after thirteen years of war get it, they have had reservists in their headquarters and have had one on one contact. I myself, my boss in Iraq was General Barbara Fast, active duty, one star promotable, and I was in her office one day and she was briefing me-not briefing me but, you know, bringing me up to speed on a particular initiative [coughs]. And she says, "What do you think of this?" and I said, "Ma'am I think that's really awful idea." And she was startled, she said, "Nobody talks to me that way. Why do you talk to me that way?" And I said, "Ma'am, I'm a Reservist. If I can't be honest with you than I'm doing something wrong. If you like my advice and change your plan because I was honest with you, then good, you changed the plan in a way that I think is constructive. If you don't like my advice and you say, 'piss off,' I just say, 'good,' because you know I was heard, different ideas were on the table, and I wasn't a yes man." So I said, "Ma'am, you're always gonna get a very honest answer opinion from me. You might not like it but it's gonna be a very honest and direct opinion." And she goes, "You know, I have like twenty majors that work for me" (at this point I was a major). She's like, "You know nobody, nobody gives me honest advice, you're the only one." And from that point forward I was her go-to guy for the "is this a stupid idea or a good idea or whatever." 19 SY: So what do you think gave you the chutzpah to be able to do that, to sort of to speak your mind in that context? WL: I think it was a lifetime of of—first of all confidence in your analytical abilities which I, I've always been fairly confident in my analytical abilities. But I think it was the, you know, the lifetime of values thing, the integrity that my parents inculcated in me, and the school inculcated in this this this, "Always stand up for what's right approach." And, you know, the truth of the matter is you know we live in a somewhat political world so you do have to when to pick your battles and not everything can be a fight because that person gets nothing done. But you really have to be perceptive and know when is the right time to speak your mind and make your thoughts heard. And if you're judicious and thoughtful about it you'll get a reputation for being the one that can be called upon to consult with in tough situations. And I, I've been fortunate that that's been the case for me. I've been counsel now to people that I started as company grade officers that are now generals, and it's satisfying and rewarding when somebody calls you up and says, "Hey I got this, you know, this really tough problem, just wanted to talk to you about it, you know. I don't need an answer. I just want to talk it out." And it's very satisfying, it really is. SY: I can imagine, you know it's interesting at this point I've done a bunch of these interviews and in my experience it's reservists and ah helicopter pilots— WL: [laughs]. SY: Who their identity as citizen soldiers is about, you know, standing up for what you think is right even if it is pushing back against authority. And then people who are more Regular Army, that is not their mentality. It's interesting. That's what I've observed so far, yeah. WL: One of my, one of the, my, the deputy intelligence officer for Iraq, he was our boss for a little while, and he was responsible for the day-to-day operations and General Fast was the big thinker policy person. So Colonel Boltz is the guy's name, he's a Norwich guy, Norwich, I want to say '78, '79, Steve Boltz. He's currently the Deputy G-2 for U.S. Army Europe, fantastic guy. So he would come into our—we were behind a purple curtain believe it or not in our little headquarters, and he would come in and he would flip the purple curtain open, and me and my buddy who was Ponce, this guy's name was Captain Ponce at the time, he's now Colonel Ponce. He'd go with his really strange accent, "Ponce, Lyons, tell me the truth, all my majors lie to me and you're the only ones that tell me the truth!" And we'd sit down and we'd have an hour long bull session with this colonel because he could trust us to just tell us the way it was. And when we were flat out wrong, he'd explain it, he'd mentor us and say, "Just because you have the chutzpah to be honest with me. I'm gonna invest in you and, and mentor you." And so Ponce and he actually ended up being very close friends, and Bill just visited him in Europe like just two months ago. And he's just a fantastic guy, fantastic leader. I mean he was the, he's the classic guy who got to colonel speaking his mind but couldn't get to general because he spoke his mind. That's Steve Boltz and I appreciated him for all of that he was a really straight shooting kind of guy. Really, really cool. SY: So it seems like you've seen examples of really toxic leadership and really good leadership? 20 WL: I have, yeah, yeah. SY: And I'm wondering if I have more questions to ask you about that. I mean and you've served, you've served at all your deployments as an officer. WL: I have, yeah. SY: And I guess how do you think the experience is different um for somebody - I mean this is such a huge question - but for somebody who's enlisted. I guess I've been doing interviews in part with some people who've dealt with PTSD and it seems pretty clear that PTSD is more prevalent among enlisted men than officers, and I don't know if that's true or not true but do you have thoughts about that? WL: Yeah, it's not my experience. I think that officers tend to manage and conceal their PTSD because they're expected to. You're expected to be the tough one, the guy that keeps it all together, but there's ample opportunities, ample examples of officers that didn't keep it together. I'll give an example, my, my brigade commander, a guy whose name is escaping me at the time, he had the single largest military intelligence brigade ever assembled, seven battalions. It was huge and he was responsible for Abu Ghraib, the intelligence side of Abu Ghraib. And I remember being summoned to his office and a guy named Jonathan Carpik came to me and he, Captain Carpik, and he said, "Hey Colonel." I can't re—he's the guy pinning the medal on in my picture, and I can't--I'm just drawing a complete blank as to his name. He said, "He wants you in his office." Now he had this little closet of an office, it was literally a closet with a desk in it. And so I went and the door was maybe three inches open and I could hear sobbing inside. So I was like, "Well that's weird." So I knocked on the door and he said, "Come in," and I kind of cracked the door a little bit and he said, "Come on in Lyons." He was visibly shaken, and he looked at me he goes, "You know I never thought I'd say this, but I hate my job and I hate my life." And that was a full colonel in the middle of a combat environment. And if that's not PTSD I don't know what it is. So, you know he clearly was struggling like the weight of the world around him. I myself struggled with survivor's guilt coming home. SY: Can you talk about that? WL: Well I spent about a year in therapy just coming to terms with the various losses. Two guys in my unit got killed, Travis Fredrich and um Gregory Bellanger two, one was a cook that was on a convoy, the other was an intelligence interrogator who was killed in a in a mortar attack. And that was a bit of a loss and I came home and my Norwich class president Rob Soltes was killed shortly thereafter. He was an optometrist on a Civil Affairs mission in northern Iraq and he got hit by a VB IED and he died [coughs]. So those were very traumatic experiences for me, and what it resulted for me was you know those were lives that were lost. And first of all it could have been me and maybe I would have felt better it was me so that their families didn't experience the loss. But it also made me reexamine all of my own priorities in life, like and this is gonna sound trivial and trite, but how can I live better to make their loss worth it? So that's really been sort of the driving force behind my life since then. And then my bo--my roommate in Bosnia, a guy named Harold Brown who's from Bolton, Mass., Army Reservist, he ended up getting recruited by the CIA when we left Bosnia. And he ended up being an intel operative for 21 them. and he is the one of the guys that gets killed in Khost in the movie Zero Dark Thirty. That was what? Four years ago now, Christmas-ish? That was a huge loss, I mean that was very very traumatic. He and I were very close in Bosnia. We stayed close. So I still work with his family and we try to remember him every year. It's a very big loss, so. SY: I also would imagine coming home and then the Abu Ghraib scandal breaking would also be a bit of an existential crisis in addition, right? WL: Yeah. Well I and Ponce ended up being interviewed extensively, ah what's an AR-15-6 investigation, which is an investigation into potentially criminal activity. It's like a precursor to like a grand jury type of investigation. A guy named Major General George Fay came and interviewed us because of Abu Ghraib. And I was interviewed extensively as was Ponce, and you know looking, they were looking deep and desperately to try and find the trigger that caused all that and I mentioned I don't think it was anything specific, I think it was just pervasive. But um, but reliving all of that was very, very traumatic. And I'll tell you probably one of the weirdest things that I experienced in Iraq was at six months under the Geneva Conventions if you are a detainee you are entitled to a review of your detention. And so in August, which was roughly two--six months after the war started, we had to start reviewing all these cases. And I was appointed the guy that was gonna be the intel person coordinating the review of all the files. So there was an MP officer that was reviewing for threats, and there was an intel officer reviewing to determine if there was intel value in that detainee and whether we should keep them for the intel value. And so we were reviewing all these files and we literally had something like 14,000 detainees at this point, and I'm reviewing the earliest ones first because they're entitled to their review. So one of the first manila folders I'm handed, handed has a detainee number on the, you know the little piece that sticks out, index, and a name. And you open it up and there was nothing in it and I go, "Hey anybody have the information on this file?" "Oh no, I didn't see anything." So I called down to the detention center I'm like, "Hey I got this manila folder with nothing in it" [laughs]. And they're like, "Yeah that's all we got." I'm like, "Well how am I supposed to make a decision on that?" you know, "Go debrief the guy and find out what the circumstances of, at least the circumstances of capture were." So somebody goes into the pen and now this guy's been tied up for six months and when they go, "So you know what's the circumstances?" And so he was walking back from the hospital after carrying his daughter several miles to the hospital, dropped his daughter off. On his way home, um, the 3rd Infantry Division captured him because he was out past curfew. Got rolled up, sent to Camp Cropper, then sent off to Abu Ghraib and had spent six months wondering what happened to his daughter, wondering if his family knew where he was, wondering anything. And so, I mean if we didn't make an enemy out of this guy I don't know what would, right? So I reflected a lot of that. That definitely troubled me, you know, as I, as I came home and unwound from the war that. That, you know, that haunted me a bit. So, you know, PTSD comes in a lot of forms. Those are my forms. And there are all different forms, you know. It's… SY: Yeah I talked to a guy last week who was in Vietnam and Korea. And in his words he was "cuckoo" after Korea, that's what he said. So he was, he had PTSD after Korea. And he said oddly he healed himself in Vietnam because in addition to you know developing a missile, he 22 personally created these two humanitarian missions. So like they took some rice from the Viet Cong and the Army was gonna burn it and he was like, "Yeah I'm taking that over to that village," right? There was another instance where he took the packing crates and brought it over to build a school. And he said really beautifully that he was able to maintain his sense of himself as an ethical person even though he was doing other things that he didn't feel good about. Because of that he was able to, to not feel so messed up when he got home. WL: Yeah, it's a good outlet. I think everybody, that's really what you need is an outlet. SY: Yeah, and maintaining a sense of yourself, right? WL: Yup. Yeah absolutely. I spent the last—the first—when I was deployed my mayor got voted out of office so I came home to no job. SY: Oh no! WL: So while I was trying to figure what to do a friend of mine said, "Hey, we're gonna start an engineering company. Do you know anybody that'd like to run it?" and I said, "Well, me." So I took that job and the weird thing was for the first two or three months I couldn't do anything. I would sit in front of the computer and stare at it, do internet searches about the war, because I needed the "vig," you know, the excitement of being engaged. And it just occurred to me one day I was like, "I'm a basket case [laughs]. I am totally lost." And that's when I decided to seek counseling because I knew that there was something wrong with me, and it was very standard behavior for somebody that was so amped up 24/7. I worked eighteen hours a day on military stuff and then [snap] gone. SY: Welcome home! WL: Yeah, welcome home, get normal, put a suit on, sit in front of the computer and and build a company. I was like uhh…. SY: Ahh! [laughs] what do I do? WL: So— SY: Did you have that hypervigilance stuff too that a lot of people describe? Like scanning and— WL: No, I, I honestly didn't. I did some pretty crazy stuff in terms of convoying in Iraq, but I never felt like the, and some people describe it to me as sort of the razor's edge experience, like you feel like you're right out on the edge of stuff. I did a lot of convoying in the Highway of Death and I don't know why but it never, and I was very very, I was very attuned to the threat and I did everything that I was supposed to do, but I never felt that particular high. The high I felt was more about working with Special Operators to identify targets, and to me that was the most exhilarating thing that I could do. So I, you know convoyed to Tikrit, and I convoyed to out to Abu Ghraib a bunch of times. I convoyed to Babylon. That was a wonderful experience, I got to explore all the ruins. Oh it was just fantastic experience, just very, very, um, very rewarding to do that. And yeah, I mean I spent a lot of time on my way out to visit other agencies that I 23 needed to coordinate with as part of my responsibilities. And it just never occurred to me, I knew how dangerous it was but it never felt as exhilarating as the other parts of my job. SY: Hm. That makes sense. WL: The other people that worked for me were like, "Why do you go out so much?" you know, "You shouldn't be so quick to go out on these convoys." I'm like, "But it's my job. I need to talk to these people." They're like, "Use a phone." I'm like, "I can't get the same information on the phone, I gotta go talk to these people," so. My driver who was uh, Freddy Klein, who probably would much have preferred that I did not go out. He tried on numerous occasions to talk me out of my road trips but he and I almost met our fate, we got shot at from behind by our own people who discharged a weapon when they shouldn't have, and it went right between us. I was sitting in the passenger seat of the truck and he was sitting in the driver's seat of the truck, went by his ear by about six inches. Yeah it was a pretty interesting day. So that's the closest I came to getting shwacked. SY: That's pretty close [laughs]. WL: It was a big, there was a night we got 57 millimeter rockets raining on us, and so that was another fairly close call. It was quite the experience to say the least. SY: How'd you get that teacup? WL: So, um, when I went to the, I think they call it the Al Faw Palace, it's the the palace that was in the middle of Camp Victory. Camp Victory was actually forming at that time, like they just barely had the perimeter secured when I showed up. And I had this guy who was a Marine Corps Major, a guy named Bob Sirks who was nominally my boss for three weeks or something. And he goes, "Have you been in the palace?" Now the palace was supposed to be off-limits, we weren't supposed to go there. I said, "I haven't." And he goes, "Let's go in." I said, "I don't know." He's like, "There's nobody over there, nobody will ever know." He's like, "I've been inside, it's cool." I said, "Okay." So we, we found a way into the building, I don't even remember what way we got in and it was opulent - gold toilet seats and gold leaf everything. And so he goes, "Hey, let's go in the kitchen." So we go in the kitchen and this huge china set, now this was a palace, one of the many palaces that Saddam used, but this huge china set with the tea cups and everything just left untouched. It's just sitting there. And he's like, "Oh let's get a souvenir." I'm like, "I don't know, you know." He's like, "Oh just a tea cup." So, "alright just a tea cup." So he gets a tea cup and I get a tea cup and he goes, "Now what?" I said, "That's enough for me." And so he took a whole bunch of other stuff and I was like, "Well I got my one war trophy, I'll take this." So that was the tea cup story, and that particular day, again because there was nobody in the palace. There are a whole bunch of pictures in my CDs of being inside the chandelier which is a totally cool experience. There's a chandelier in the pictures and you can actually go inside the chandelier. SY: I somehow must have missed that set of pictures because I—you know what? Maybe there were two Iraq discs and I only looked at one. I'll go back and look later. 24 WL: Yeah, that was cool. And then there's a picture of me on the roof, and there's a hole in the roof so it's kinda like straddling my, I'm straddling the hole. And that's where a JDAM1 went through the roof and then you can see the picture of Saddam's bedroom that's blown to smithereens. And so that one bomb went down three stories and basically blew up on his bed. Of course he wasn't there, but the intent was to target him. And that was really proof positive that I was on the right side [laughs] just to see to see the technological advantage that we had. It was really really amazing. And the rest of the building was intact. It was just that room that was blown up. Everything else, the tea cups were all where they were supposed to be, the, nothing was affected outside of that. I mean it was really— SY: The building wasn't even rattled enough that the tea cups fell? WL: Yeah it was it was totally illus—illustrative of how we were— SY: Illustrative? I never know how pronounce that word, yeah. WL: Yeah you get the message. It was the, technical, technological overmatch was on, you know, absolute display in that, in that particular moment to me. It was really amazing, really amazing. SY: What'd ya think when you were walking though Babylon? WL: You know that was almost surreal. The Marines had kind of secured Babylon to prevent looting, and they hired the chief archeologist of Iraq to give tours. So this guy who was Saddam's chief archeologist showed us around all of the ruins of Babylon. And one of the weird things is that Saddam had—he was very envious of Nebuchadnezzar, the king that ruled Babylon. And he built a huge castle above Babylon to show his supremacy, but he later thought better of it and he wanted his castle built on top of Nebuchadnezzar's castle. So he actually in the process he sank Nebuchadnezzar's castle because it was on filled marshlands. So you can see the sinking process going on because stacked all these bricks with his stamp on it over Nebuchadnezzar's bricks with Nebuchadnezzar's stamps on it. But we saw the procession street where he had all his military parades and civic parades, the Lion of Babylon was still there. We got—I got pictures in front of the Lion of Babylon. It was a very rewarding experience. I can't say that I had a very classical education and that sort of stuff so I was kind of learning it on the fly with the chief archeologist of Iraq, so I guess you couldn't ask for a better teacher than that. It was a very, it was a very interesting experience. Very fun. SY: That's pretty cool. I have to head to Northbridge soon and I want to beat some of the traffic. WL: I got to go pick up my kids. SY: Alright, any last thoughts? This has been a fantastic interview. WL: Oh it's my pleasure. Um no. I, you know I will say that I owe my success to Norwich and to a number of leaders that were Norwich, and weren't Norwich, along the ways. One of my best friends is now a commander of my command in the Reserves, the military intelligence readiness 1 This is an acronym for Joint Direct Attack Munition (JDAM), a bomb guidance system. 25 command. The guy's name is Brigadier General Gabriel Troiano. He's not a Norwich guy but he exemplifies the citizen soldier in my mind. He was my boss in Bosnia, he was my boss in Iraq, and now he's a brigadier general and that to me is proof positive that the right values system and the right leadership really does make a difference. It really makes a difference and I applaud Norwich for staying on that path all these years, and I hope that they stay on it. SY: Yeah, hey thanks! WL: My pleasure.

APRIL, 1899 ocTheo. Gettysburg Mercury CONTENTS. An Unhonored Hero, 41 I Wonder Why, 43 Elements of Franklin's Great-ness, 44 The Passage of the Free School Bill 48 Pages from My Diary, 49 Our Superstitions, 50 The Elfking 54 The Turk and Armenia, 55 Immortality, 58 To Melpomene, 60 A Sun of the North 60 Environment, 63 A Sketch of the Development of Music, 66 Editor's Desk 69 Francis Scott Key's Monument, 70 Kee Mar, 71 The Value of Good Literature, 72 Athletics, 73 Among- the Exchanges, 75 Editor's Scissors 76 Advertisements, 77 FAVOR THOSE WHO FAVOR US. mm For Fine Printing GO TO The J. E. WIBLE .♦Printing Rouee Carlisle Street, GETTYSBURG, PA. C. B. Kitzmiller, Dealer in Hats, Caps, Boots and . Douglas Shoes GETTYSBURG, PA. J. H. Myers, Fashionable Tailor, Clothier and Gents' Furnisher. The best place in town tohaveyourCloth-iug made to order. All workmanship and Trimmings guaranteed. No charge for re-pairs and pressing for one year. Dyeing and Repairing a specialty. Ready-made Clothing the largest stock in town. Up-to-date styles. Bicycle Suits and Breeches Headquarters. 11 Baltimore St., Gettysburg, Pa. R. A. WONDERS, Corner Cigar Parlors. A full line of Cigars, Tobacco, Pipes, Etc. Scott's Corner, Opp. Eagle Hotel. GETTYSBURG, PA. EDGAR 5. MARTIN, F^CIGARS AND SMOKERS' ARTICLES. Chambersburg St., Gettysburg. JOHN H. MINNIGH, Confectionery lee Creankj^ and. Oysters Stewed and Fried. No. 17 BALTIMORE ST. .COLLEOE OF. Physieians and Surgeons BALTIMORE, flD. The College of Physicians and Surgeons of Baltimore, Maryland, is a well equipped school. Four sessions are required for graduation. For full information send for the annual catalogue, or write to THOMAS OPIE, M. D., Dean. Cor. Calvert & Saratoga Sts. .THE. GETTYSBURG MERCURY Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second- class matter. Vox,. VIII. GETTYSBURG, PA., APRIL, 1899. No. 2 Editor-in-Chief. J. FRANK HEILMAN, '00. Assistant Editors. Alumni Editor. LUTHER A. WEIGLE, '00. REV. F_ D. GARLAND, SAMUEL A. VAN ORMER, '01. Business Manager. Assistant Business Manager. JOHN K. HAMACHER, '00. CLARENCE MOORE, '02. Advisory Board. PROF. J. A. HIMES, LIT. D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M. D. PROF. J. W. RICHARD. D. D. Published monthly by the students of Pennsylvania (Gettj-sburg-) College. Subscription price One Dollar a year in advance, single copies Fifteen Cents. Students, Professors and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Business Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. AN UNHONORED HERO. MANY of the deeds of heroism which were performed on America's greatest battlefield are not recorded by the his-torian, have received no public recognition and have passed into oblivion. The generals and the officers were not the only heroes in our great civil war, although they have received the highest praise and honors. In the graves of the unknown dead in the National Cemetery there may be many sleeping whose deeds are worthy to be written in poems and to be sung in classic songs. In the year 1863 an incident of the battle of Gettysburg oc-curred which has never received any public notice, but was related to me by my father who was fully acquainted with the facts and who was a student at that time in Pennsylvania College. My father's roommate was a youth of fifteen or sixteen years, named Fred. A. Lehman. He was a student in the preparatory department, and was from Pittsburg. On account of youthfulness 42 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. and not having the permission of his parents or professors he was not allowed to join the College Company. Consequently when the company left for Harrisburg, Lehman was left behind and was at Gettysburg when the Rebels arrived. During the first day's fight Lehman, whose patriotism was unbounded and who was filled with devotion to his country, went out over the field. As he saw the Union lines slowly driven backward by a superior force, he was unable to restrain himself longer, and seizing the musket of a dead soldier and stripping the lifeless form of its cartridge box he fell into line and entered the contest with the zeal of a veteran, doing excellent service. When the union forces retreated through town he sought refuge at the home of the German professor, the Rev. C. F. Schaeffer, D. D., who resided on Chambersburg Street during the battle. On the morning of July 3rd, tired of staying in, Lehman wished to go out and see how things were progressing, but was restrained by the Schaeffer family. When the family took refuge in the cel-lar Lehman slipped out and thought he would see for himself how things were going, but no sooner did he set foot on the street than he was spied by Rebel sharpshooters on Seminary Ridge. He had only gone a short distance when he was struck just below the knee by a bullet. The ball passed through the leg shattering the bone. Lehman managed to crawl back into the house where he was tenderly cared for by the family. After the battle he was removed to the Union hospital in the Seminary building. The surgeons wished to amputate the leg but were restrained from so doing by the protests of the Scheaffer family and of the professors. The surgeons could not help but yield to the desires of his friends, as he was not a soldier and as his extreme youth was favorable to not amputating the leg. His wound was carefully dressed and in a short time he was able to walk with the aid of crutches, but was rendered a cripple for life. He resumed his studies at the Fall session of College but did not complete his course, leaving in 1864. In the Pennsylvania College Book—page 370—it is stated that he studied law and was located, at the time the book was published, at Washington, D. C. Among the heroes of the great battle of Gettysburg the name of Fred. A. Lehman deserves a place. Although not wounded in actual battle, his impulse was to render service to the cause of liberty and the preservation of the Union. He entered the THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 43 fight not for honor nor for glory and with no eye upon him to cheer and urge him on, but his only desire was to fight that his country might live. He perhaps did as efficient service as John Burns, although his youth and activity caused him to be passed by unnoticed. There are monuments which mark the spots where our known heroes fell, their names are engraven on the hearts of the American people and their deeds can never be forgotten; the government pen-sions those whose health was broken and who endured the loss of limbs and disfigurement. This youth fought unnoticed in the great struggle for freedom, received a most painful wound, bore uncom-plainingly his sufferings all these years, and, if living to-day, bears in his body the effects of his patriotism. But he has this concious-ness to give him satisfaction, that in his own way he did what he was able to do for his country's honor in that hour of her sorest trial and greatest danger. e9p —J. ROY RICHARDS, '01. I WONDER WHY. Where'er you go my college friend Along life's devious way. You'll always find a host of things To vex you every day ; The universe is full of them In earth and sea and sky, And all that you can do at times, Is pause, and wonder why. When first you enter learning's halls In cleverness you cloy ; Yet ere a fortnight has elapsed You're caught in some decoy. And, while you wait to hear the sound Of albatritche''s cry, You drop your bag, and curse your fate Then grope, and wonder why. You go to class from day to day Bewitched by classic lore, Your brain becomes a buzzing mart Of phantom forms galore : You poke your nos inter the Greek, You mix your tres with tri, Then when the fellows laugh and shout You blandly wonder why. 44 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. You run to lab. three times a week, You open nature's book; And though it's in a symbol tongue It has a foreign look. You meet with acids weak and strong, With brazen fortn-u-lae; Yet, when the Prof, declines your notes, You grin, and wonder why. Some day you make a new resolve To pay neglected debts, Your friends no sooner find it out Than in they draw their nets,— You drop a letter home to pa, And beg a quick reply ; He chills you with the draft returned In words, "I wonder why ? " Perhaps, you're calling on a girl You'd like to make your wife, You whisper in her ear and say,— You love her more than life; Then asking for her hand in troth She answers with a sigh,— Not, " Oh so sudden I yes, or no " But plain, "I wonder why? " Yet never mind, old captious boy, Don't turn your feet aside, Just plod your way up Duty's path Whatever may betide; Some future day in looking down From heights no wealth can buy ; You'll see the paupered minds below, And know the reason why. -J. B. B., 1900. ELEMENTS OF FRANKLIN'S GREATNESS. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, one of the greatest of Americans, was born in Boston, Massachusetts, in the year 1706. His parents were poor and had seventeen children, of whom Benjamin was the youngest. His father procured a livelihood for the family by manufacturing soap and candles, which, to be sure, could not have been a very profitable vocation as far as pecuniary matters were concerned, for we find that the family was often in financial distress. On account of the poverty of his parents and THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 45 the size of the family, the individual members of which were en-titled to equal consideration, he was unable to obtain more than the ordinary amount of schooling then given to young people. Early in life he attended a grammar school, and while there dili-gently applied himself to his studies. Later he took lessons in writing and arithmetic under the famous master, George Brownells. This was all the instruction that he received, his parents be-ing unable to send him to any college or university. Having thus briefly noted the disadvantages under which he began his career, we may regard self-denial, inspired by his in-tense love of knowledge, as the first element of his greatness. While yet young he became a vegetarian, so as to purchase books for a higher education. Though by no means a miser, he lived most economically and in the greatest simplicity, that he might procure books and magazines. Almost every cent that he saved was used in purchasing books. It may here also be mentioned that he was a prodigious reader, often reading books and maga-zines, (some of which were his own, and some of which he had borrowed,) the greater part of the night, and consequently he was well informed on almost all of the subjects of the day. Though many instances of this element of his greatness might be cited, we let what has been said suffice, and turn our attention to the second element of his greatness. Self-reliance may be said to have been the second element. The following instances furnish proof that he possessed this at-tribute. His trip to Philadelphia may be taken as the first instance. While yet a young man he decided to try his for-tunes in another city. He accordingly set out for Philadelphia, travelling all the way on foot, as he did not possess the means necessary for travelling in a better manner. After a long and wearisome journey he arrived in Philadelphia, with but a Dutch dollar and a shilling in his pocket. All that he possessed was what was attached to his person. He found himself in a strange city, in a city in which he had neither friends nor relatives. His future looked gloomy. He had little hope of success. But all these misfortunes do not seem to have baffled him. He was not idle. He at once sought for employment, and he soon found it. He worked hard, made friends and money, and finally rose to fame, and was admired and loved by all who knew him. Coming into the city as a poor stranger, by relying upon his own ability iHH^ni^^Bm 1 46 77/^ GETTYSBURG MERCURY. and diligently applying himself to his business, he rose high in the esteem and veneration of the people. His trip to England may be taken as the second instance of self-denial. He made this trip some time after the one from Boston to Philadelphia. Having been induced by false representations to go to England, he crossed the Atlantic, and arrived in London, where he soon found himself almost penniless. Heknewnoone. He was in a strange country. But here also by his self-reliance and firmness he managed to earn enough to procure a living, and, indeed, finally lived quite com-fortably. He made friends everywhere, and, as in America, was honored and loved by all. So much for this element of his great-ness. We now turn to a third, his perseverance. Perseverance he possessed in a high degree and gave proof of the fact in almost everything that he did. Some of his greatest achievements were accomplished by the aid of this element in his character. We may cite his discovery of the indentity of lightning with electricity. He had studied and pored over this subject a long, long time. He sometimes even despaired of ever finding a solution to the problem. He had studied it in all of its phases and relations, before his efforts were finally crowned with success, when he charged a Leyden jar with lightning drawn from the clouds by means of an insulated wire, one end of which was at-tached to a kite. His perseverance while learning the trade of printing, may also be noted here. While an apprentice his lot was hard and discouraging. There was no great hope of success. He worked hard and constantly, and was almost always somewhat financially embarrassed. He struggled on, however, and finally, after he had served his apprenticeship and had begun business as a printer, made a success. He even became famous through the circulation of the "Poor Richards Almanac," which was widely read and even translated into foreign languages. The instances illustrating this element of his greatness are so numerous, indeed, that it would be tedious to mention them all. We will let the two mentioned suffice. They give proof enough that he possessed this great quality, a quality that so often has raised men from humble stations to positions of honor and glory. A fourth element of Franklin's greatness was his logical method of treating subjects. This was one of the greatest elements which distinguished him. He was a great lover of the "Science of Sciences.'' He tested the truth or falsity of statements by logical THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 47 examination. He formed all his conclusions logically. He would assent to nothing that was not logically true. In all of his great discoveries his conclusions were based upon logical treatment. He was, in short pre-eminently logical in everything that he did. Reason was his guide, and it is only fair to conclude that this great element in his character, which he possessed in such high degree, was one of the greatest causes, if not the greatest, of his success and, of course, of his greatness. In this connection we may mention his keen observation of persons and things as a minor element of his greatness. It is said that scarcely anything escaped his notice. He studied and pondered over things that ordinary men were scarcely aware of. His observations set him to think-ing, and often great results followed. Another minor element, unimportant as it may seem, had not a little to do with his success; affability and readiness in every kind of conversation, which made him a universal favorite. Indeed, when in England, this inherent quality, by winning for bim popular favor and admiration, did much for his recovery from the great financial losses that he had suffered. His tales of adventure and witticisms are very interest-ing, and are popular even at the present day. Everybody loved to converse with him. He was so entertaining, charming, brilliant and witty. We will now pass to a fifth great element, his breadth of mind. He was broad in his sympathies. He was not in the least con-trolled by any narrowness of mind. He never took part in petty quarrels relating to certain opinions, creeds or theories. He believ-ed in freedom of thought, and wished every person to think fearlessly and according to the dictates of reason and his own conscience. This noble quality is seen most clearly in his religion. His was an universal religion, inasmuch as he was not controlled in his religious views by any creed or doctrine, but by his conscience. It is said that he never went to church, but prayed at home. This may be true; it may not be. It makes no difference whether it be true or not, so far as we are concerned, for we know he lived morally, nobly benefited mankind by his labor, and was loved and honored by all nations on account of the noble services by which he blessed mankind. —C. H. G., '00. 48 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. THE PASSAGE OF THE FREE SCHOOL BILL. BRIGHTLY the sun arose on the morning of April n, 1835. It was a momentous occasion, for before the Legislature of Pennsylvania was an issue than which none more important ever had been discussed in those halls. It was the Free School Bill, and by common consent the vote was to be taken on that day. Governor Wolf had favored it in his annual message, and little else had occupied the attention of those early lawmakers during the session. The discussion had been long and spirited. The opponents, influenced to some extent by false ideas of duty to their constituents, had been bitter in their denunciation of the measure; while the friends seemed to think it their duty to spare no effort to secure its adoption. They believed the education of the masses to be essential to the perpetuity of a Republican form of government. Perhaps they, in looking down the dim vista of future years, saw the present glorious system and the joy and hope it gives the state, and delighted in being its progenitors. Surely they realized with the poet— "The riches of a commonwealth Are free, strong- minds and hearts of health; And more to her than gold or grain, The cunning' hand and cultured brain." As the legislators assembled on that balmy day, the opponents were jubilant; while the friends, though doubting, were hopeful: such was the state of affairs as they took their accustomed places. To the consternation of all present, when the Chaplain arose for prayer, he besought Almighty God to lay bare His strong right arm and save the state from that poverty and bankruptcy which were sure to follow, if the people were to have their property wrested from them for the education of all the children. The battle opened with all the leaders ready ; and as the crisis approached, a young lawyer, Thaddeus Stevens, stepped to the front and "met the assailants with such strength of logic, brilliancy of rhetoric, nobility of purpose, and magnanimity of spirit that the bill was saved." By that speech he gave the state a legacy richer than Golconda's jewel mine or Ophir's golden ore. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 49 PAGES FROM MY DIARY. AFTER a few days in the quaint cities of Holland, our party hastened to Cologne. The view of the great Cathedral, whose twin towers, unfinished for centuries, were com-pleted since 1871 as a monument and symbol of United Germany, more than fulfilled our expectations. Then came the journey up the Rhine, more like a dream than reality; and then in rapid suc-cession "fair Bingen on the Rhine," Mainz, Frankfort, Heidel-berg and Strassburg, until farther on in Switzerland appeared, high above the other mountains, mass piled upon mass, in dazzling splendor, the incomparable Bernese Alps. We did not, as so many do, attempt to do the Rhine in one day, but lingered here and there, at some quaint village, where at night a hunter's horn would awaken the echoes of the hills, and seem to be summoning the knights of old to come forth and, even if for only a night, to inhabit their ancient strongholds and castles. Time was, to be sure, when other thoughts than picturesqueuess struck the merchant, who had to pass them. They are the relics of the age when might was right, and when every noble governed as he pleased, and levied heavy toll upon all who passed through his land, often at the point of the sword. These lordly castles, whether along the Rhine or Danube, are now fallen in ruins, like the feudal system, which gave them birth. Their ruins now add to the picturesqueness of the scene. Nature has dealt kindly with them, massive trees grow through their walls, and ivy clings to every crevice. If these walls could speak, what deeds of cruelty they could disclose, what feuds, what fratricidal strife! But if these times were in some respects barbarous, they were also heroic and full of romance. Many a castle could witness to the heroic lives of men, and especially to the holy lives of noble women. The reader of this practical age loves to linger over the pages of those authors who have made these times their theme, and involuntarily the wish arises for more dash of romance in this everyday life of ours. Perhaps it is distance that lends en-chantment, and there is more romance in the present than we think, if we only have the eyes to see it. * * * * Day after day as a child I had seen from my home, near the foot of the Black Forest, the outline of the great cathedral of 5Q THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. Strassburg, and behind it, in the distance, the long outline of the Vosges mountains. Occasionally at some brilliant sunset the mountains seemed lined with gold, but never did those regions seem less prosy, than when after many years of absence I gazed from the tower of Strassburg Cathedral on what has been justly called "the garden of Europe." About fifteen miles to the west the jagged outlines of the Vosges run for nearly one hundred miles north and south, the Rhine sweeps along, until far to the north it appears like a thread of silver, to the east about ten miles away extends parallel to the Vosges, the Black Forest. The plain between, as far as the eye can reach, is dotted with cities, towns, and villages, while here and there are the sombre hues of extensive forests. At our feet is Strassburg, the old city with its red tile gables just beneath us, beyond stretches the modern part, and still be-yond this the formidable fortifications which make Strassburg well nigh impregnable. By August 24, 1870, a Germany army division had surrounded Strassburg and from this time to September 27th, the bombard-ment lasted without intermission. The roar of cannon was con-tinuous, shattering the windows in many of the surrounding towns and the nights were made bright with the glare of the burning city. From church steeples we watched the movements of the army, when the French attempted sallies. But at last the white flag appeared. Much valuable property was destroyed, but with some slight damages, which have been repaired, the great cathedral, standing on the site of a church of the fifth century, itself begun in 1015 and completed in 1449, was saved. Every traveler may still draw inspiration from it, and raise his eyes, as pious Tauler did of old, "dizzily up to where in the moon-bright-ness the great Minster's tower, jeweled with sunbeams on its moral crown, rises like a visible prayer." -C. F. B. OUR SUPERSTITIONS. FROM the earliest times of antiquity to the present day the power of superstition has wielded a dominant influence over the minds and hearts of men. With the evolution of Christian civilization this mighty influence has been gradually diminished in its power and narrowed in its extent. Religion HHHilHM^HnBiH M«HH - ' ' '" HHHM THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 5i and philosophy, Christian ethics and morals, science and art, have been the titantic dykes which have even pushed back the swift mountainous waves of Pagan superstition, opening up for the mind of man a magnificent expanse of development. The great waters have been pushed back, but they have left behind them countless little pools and rivulets, which all too plainly show the recentness of the mighty flood. Much of the punctiliousness of our modern society amounts to nothing less than a dainty and re-fined superstition. Bacon has truly said—"there is a superstition in avoiding superstition." The glaring superstitions of the uneducated classes are too ob-vious for our present consideration. The criminal beliefs of the unenlightened classes and tribes of heathendom are hackneyed. The Hindoo mother, tearing her wailing babe from her bosom and flinging it into the flowing waters of the Ganges, the indescribable crimes of ignorance in the Dark Continent, the frightful outrages of the South Seas, shock the moral sense of the enlightened nations. All these things the civilized world witnesses with uplifted hands, unmindful of the aesthetic trace in its own veins. Popular political and religious superstitions are rife in the world to-day, even while it stands watching the downing rays of the twentieth century quivering in the auroral horizon. The atmosphere of our modern and so-called enlightened society is so filled with the curse of so-cial lies, direct offsprings of superstition, that much of the living truth and natural goodness of the human heart is converted into the most sickly forms that have ever gilded and bolstered.up the morbid vapidity of the human mind. "Evil haunts The birth, the bridal; friend from friend Is oftener parted, fathers bend Above more graves, a thousand wants Gnaw at the heels of men, and prey By each cold hearth, and sadness flings Her shadow on the blaze of Kings." The folly and the crime of superstition so pervades our society that many otherwise useful and rational minds have been warped and stunted in their development. As a natural product of this condition civil government has been hindered, education has been harassed, and art has suffered irreparable loss. The clearest and most succinct definition of the word super-stition is from the pen of Canon Kingsley,—"an unreasonable 52 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. fear of the unknown.'' From this it can be said without fear of con-tradiction, that all superstitions are formed within the various gra-dations of ignorance. The power of ignorance seems to move with the same step as does the power of knowledge. Knowledge has be-come refined and discriminate; so has ignorance. Superstition has grown into such a state as to become almost unrecognizable. Much of the religion, philosophy, and ethics of to-day, and in truth, our whole conduct of life, shows strong traces of supersti-tion. The iron will of heredity, with its inexorable, brass-riveted decrees, has long been a faithful devotee at the shrine of modern superstition. Awed, bowing multitudes listen to its irrevocable mandate. Its voice has the deep solemnity of a passing bell. "A ma?i is the direct product of his progenitors.'' The edict is spoken. Thousands, branded as moral lepers, must forever leave the pre-cincts of "good society." At the approach of the traveler they must draw a filthy covering over their chalky faces and cry out in an agony of woe, " Unclean! Unclean! " The doctrine of heredity is only half a truth. Our present matter does not permit us to enter into any extended argument in support of this statement. Moreover, examples substantiating it are by far too numerous. Sufficient to say, that many noble souls have been cruelly ostracized, and in many instances, ruined, by the superstitious credulity concerning the infallability of the laws of heredity. "L,ike father, like son" has unjustly closed many doors, and has sent more than one soul into a career, which would have been otherwise if more broadness had been practiced. Imitation is recognized by modern psychologists as one of the strongest propensities of the human mind. In the withering light of this great truth it matters not whether a man's ancestry be good or evil, so long as he follows and imitates proper ideals. Among our modern superstitions may be classed two, which mould with an iron hand the opinions of the average man, news-paper superstitiou and the superstition of "majority." With re-gard to the former it can be said without fear of serious contra-diction, that its power is inestimable. What mind can compute the product of the fear of modern newspaper criticism ? Public opinion seems to swell and wane at the motion of the editor's baton. The public press of to-day has made statesmen waver with indecision, tremble with a superstitious dread of newspaper THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 53 odium, and even fail in their sworn duty. Strong and mighty and resolute is the mind which is able to stand unmoved by the mighty waves of newspaper superstition which sweep at times in a per-fect deluge over our nation. Mightier yet than newspaper superstition is the superstition of majority. The average newspaper bows low before it in servile obeisance. The rule of majority is right when it is the expres-sion of the true and deeply underlying feelings of the great heart of mankind. But the history of the race is sadly traced with periods when the cry of majority has caused a pervading sense of superstitious terror, and has filled the bones of nations with the rottenness of decay. The noblest and best in man seems to have taken up its abode not in "majority" but in "minority." The worst havoc of the demoralizing power of superstition has been played in religion. In the full glory of this closing cen-tury a stain of deep regret must be felt on account of the niedi-aevalism displayed in the religious thought of the civilized world. This is almost wholly confined to the middle and lower classes of intelligence. No words are more to the point than those of Bacon—"it were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an opinion as is unworthy of Him; for the one is unbelief, the other is contumely; and certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity." To enter into a detailed discussion of religious superstitions is beyond the scope of this article. It is more to our purpose to hail with joy the dawn of that day when pure science and religion shall be recognized as an indissoluble union, pro-claiming the "Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood of Man" as an actual and eternal truth. The present age is one of change. Many mental and physical ghosts, will-o'-the-wisps of the night, are losing their mystic glow in the full glare of reason. We are beginning to learn more fully, "That life is not an idle one, But iron dug- from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom To shape and use." If we do not misinterpret the signs of the times, religion is demanding that the world be enlightened from pole to pole. The idea of education has taken a mighty hold on the Christian con- 54 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. sciousness of the world, and what religion in the hearts of the people demands, will be done. The spirit of the age decries superstition, the deep disgrace of our intelligence, and sings with the poet— "Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring- out the darkness of the land, Ring- in the Christ that is to be." —O. E. B., '00. THE ELFKING. GOETHE. Who rides at night through the storm so wild ? It is a father and only child ; He has the boy safe on his arm, He clasps him fast, he holds him warm. "My son, why hide you your face in fear?"— "Why father, the king of the elves is here ; The crowned elf-king with a flowing train,"— "My son, 'tis only the misty rain."— "My dear child, come and go with me ! Such pretty plays I'll play with thee; Gay-colored flowers grow by the shore, My mother has golden garments galore."— "My father, my father, and dost thou not hear The king of the elves speaks right in my ear ?"— "Be quiet, my child, 'tis only the breeze Which softly rustles the frost-bitten leaves."— "Good youth, wilt thou not go with me ? My daughters fair will wait on thee; My daughters nightly a-dancing will keep, Will rock thee and dance thee and sing thee to sleep."- My father, my father, and seest thou not The elf-king's daughters on that dismal spot ?"— "My son, my son, I see as alway, 'Tis the gloomy willows so sombre and gray."— "I love you, your beauty has so charmed my mind, Unwilling, I'll force you; don't think me unkind."— "My father, my father, I feel his strong arm ! The king of the elves is doing me harm ! " THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. The shuddering- father rides swift and wild, He holds in his arms his groaning- child, He reaches his home in fear and dread,— In his trembling arms his child lay dead. 55 -C. '99. THE TURK AND ARMENIA. TURK is the synonym for cruelty rather than for pity, a syno-nym for barbarism rather than for civilization and refor-mation . Ever since her existence Turkey has stood forth as one of the greatest foes of civilization. Turkey is not a small principality, not an insignificant nation, but a people numbering two hundred millions. Their earliest appearance in history was about the eighth century; coming from Turkestan, they obtained possession of a part of Armenia, extending their conquests over adjacent portions of Asia, Africa, and Europe. To-day their kingdom comprises the most celebrated, best situated and naturally finest provinces of the continents. As a great nation their history presents great victories, a history which is written with a bloody sword dipped in the blood of many Christians, by whose exist-ence, Turkey formed an immense army. The glorious name and honor of our Christianity often was trampled under their feet. Wherever they went a broad line of devastation marked their track, the lands which they took possession of reeked with human blood, and the atmosphere darkened with the dense clouds of crime and shame, for they presented themselves as the one great anti-human specimen of humanity. Christianity hid herself on account of persecution under the ugly mantle of affliction, and as far as their dominion reached, civilization disappeared from view, and barbarism found an occasion to offer hatred and the bitter cup of cruelty. Mohammedanism proved by the sword that it is well qualified, as a moth, to destroy the garment of civilization, and to cause the best character and abilities of the subject nations to de-cline. The blessed door of civilization and reformation closed against them. The Turks enter not themselves, neither suffer them that are anxious to enter to do so. Mohammedanism has been a burning shame in the history of Christendom and an incurable sore in the hearts of many philanthropists. It represents everywhere a government by ■■^^^HB^^HIHH 56 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. force as opposed to a government by law. Righteousness does not enter it, for it is only a den of robbery and bribery. Bribery is a disgraceful condition which causes the government to decline and truth and righteousness to disappear. Such a government is not a safe establishment for the welfare of country and people. Office under the government is often bought by money rather than secured on account of ability ; and the law is only a chameleon which changes its form readily according to the wishes of the officers. The government has authority to overrule all affairs of the people. Schools, books, newspapers, national history, all are absolutely under the censorship of the government. In a word, the important agencies which form civilization and reformation are checked in different ways in the subject nations, so as to blind and to degrade them. It is not infrequently that one hears that a newspaper office is closed on account of not using conservative language, neither is it a rare occurrence that a school boy is held responsible for his literary production, nor that a teacher suffers on account of teaching national history or songs, which inspires his students with glorious feeling for country and nation. These are tbe testimonies to the civilization of the Turk. Their power depends upon sword and religion ; many small na-tions have suffered and suffer yet under his sword and misrule, although some of them were able to declare their independence after a bloody night of tribulation. The small nation of Armenia has undergone insufferable afflictions ever since the thirteenth century. Turkey has shown its best qualities in the detestable and wicked outrages upon Armenia, and fruits have been testimonies enough as to what kind of people the Turks are. They give a new impetus to barbarism rather than to advanced civilization and reformation. Christianity is the mother of true civilization and reformation. If this is a fact, how can the Turks or a non-Christian nation be civilized? It is an impossibility to become reformed and civilized without having any Christian influence. The Turk is standing as the master of a few subdued Christian nations, but these nations have proved that they are far superior in every respect to their ruler. The Armenians though under the flag of Turkish barbarism, stand as a race, small in number, unfortunate, weak, and conquered, yet we may say to-day, greater than the conqueror, for Armenia has shown the elements of I THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 57 true wisdom, honor and greatness, by her intense loyalty to the Cross, and shall have the honor to bear the cruel star of persecu-tion upon her forehead, as a testimony of faithfulness to her Master. The merits of a nation do not depend altogether upon power and greatness of numbers, but upon the character and the elements which form true power and greatness. The Turk is as unchange-able as one of the Egyptian mummies; he does not progress nor does he care much, but it seems that he takes pleasure in keeping on in his previous condition, and also in hindering his subjects from progressing. How can there be allegiance and loyalty under such circumstances ? This life seems a very heavy burden and shame to Armenians, and though the best of the Armenian youth preferred to sacrifice themselves upon the altar of freedom, still it seems these sacrifices have not been accepted, and the glorious morning of independence has not yet dawned upon Armenia. The flowers of her hope have faded under the relentless and scorching sun of misfortune. Many looked upon her with ridicule and despisingly, for she was wearing the ugly garment of misfortune, and bearing the thorny crown of persecution upon her head. The cup of affliction overflowed, and the contrite children of the na-tion began to mourn, bitterly lamenting in their native song— "No more for the Armenian A twinkling star appears ; His spirit's flowers have faded Beneath a rain of tears. Ceased are the sounds of harmless mirth. The dances hand in hand ; Only the weapou of the Turk Shines freely through the land." The Armenian nation has the honor of having been the first na-tion converted to Christianity. Ever since Armenia's tribulation, the Turk has exercised upon her every brutality, and although she dwells among a barbarous and non-Christian nation, she still keeps her Christianity and purity, and often her children prefer to lose their lives rather than desecrate the sanctity of the Ar-menian family. It is a fact that to-day Armenia is not one of the best civi-lized and reformed nations, but she has shown the best possible character and desire for it, besides we must consider those circum-stances which she has undergone. Very few recognize what 58 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. beauty and wisdom is hidden under the gloomy veil of misfortune. Some day He who understands and hears all supplications and petitions of these hearts of ours, shall lift the veil and destroy the cruel power of the Turk upon Armenia. Then this small and insignificant nation shall stand forth in her bridal garment among the Christian nations of the world, bearing the banner of "faithful servant" crimson with the blood of many martyrs. —ARDASHES H. MERDINYAN, '01. IMMORTALITY. ONE of the most wonderful and inexplicable things in the universe is the intimate and mutually dependent relation between the soul and the physical organism. The soul as we know it, owes its continued existence, and the power to ex-ercise its functions, to the body with its intricate and admirably adapted mechanism. All we know of the world comes to us through the five senses and is conditioned by the manner in which we use them. Even the faculties of reasoning and re-membering seem to be closely associated with the structure of the brain, and the discovery of this relation will ever remain as the unattainable aim and end of Biological Psychology. Moreover, we naturally and unconsciously judge character, disposition and mental capacity simply by the face and general external appear-ance and our judgments are often surprisingly correct. Thus there seems to be some truth in the strange statement of Plato that a beautiful soul seeks a body equally beautiful to inhabit. Notwithstanding this close interdependence between soul and body, they are united to each other by a very fragile bond. How easily may the silver cord be loosed or the golden bowl bebroken ! A bit of flying lead or an electric spark will stop the delicate ma-chinery, just as a grain of sand will arrest the balance wheel of a Swiss watch, and naught be left but a bit of lifeless clay. The strong arm is cold and motionless ; the sparkling eye is dim and glassy ; the lips are silent; the soul is gone,—whither ? From time immemorial this has been a matter of thoughtful conjecture and philosophers of all ages have offered solutions to it. It is of vital import to every one and probably no other question has received such universal attention. Is the soul anni- THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 59 hilated when the body dies? Can it be that "life is a bubble cast upon the ocean of eternity to float for a moment upon its surface and then sink into nothingness and darkness forever?" Men have shrunk from such a conclusion; it would preclude all religious belief. The ancient Egyptians and Babylonians believed in the immor-tality of the soul. The Greek philosopher, Pythagoras, con-ceived a strange and irrational theory concerning its future exist-ence. Even the Indians of North America look forward to their Happy Hunting Ground. At the time of the French Revolution, when men lost their reason and became savage beasts, they went so far as to belie their own consciousness and, as the ostrich seeks safety by thrusting its head into the sand, they vainly sought to shield themselves from future punishment for their hor-rible crimes by the false aphorism, "Death is an eternal Sleep." But, "Truth crushed to earth shall rise again," and they soon saw and acknowledged their folly by a pompous, public declaration of the immortality of the soul. Since the principle of immortality has such a deep foundation in human nature, we must conclude that it was placed there by the Creator and consequently is a reality. The mode of existence of the disembodied spirit defies all ex-planation in accordance with our material ideas; it cannot bear and feel and see as it formerly did through its sense organs but, in order to retain its integrity, it must at least be able to exercise its functions ; it must know, reason and remember. All our thoughts and deeds will forever be before us,—the wicked and the good in striking contrast. Then what a sweet satisfaction there will be in the consciousness that we have done the right, and what pitiful and endless misery our evil deeds will be to us. The untiring, sleepless Erinnyswill follow on our track. The grinning spectre of remorse will haunt us with the memory of our neglected opportunities. Accordingly, there rests upon us in view of our future happiness the obligation to follow the dictates of righteousness and always be true and noble, so that when our summons comes we may receive the greeting, "Well done." —B. '99. 6o THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. TO MELPOMENE. HORACE. A monument I've built, more lastingthan bronze- More loftj' than the piles of Egypt's tow'ring mounds; Such as no wasting- rains, nor northwind's violent blast, Nor endless age, nor flight of time, is able to lay waste. My work shall ever live, ascending lofty heights; While priest and virgin mute, perform the sacred rites. Posterity shall see my glory to increase, And men remember me till Rome herself shall cease. It shall be said of me, a prince of humble birth, Born where Aufidus roars and Daunus rul'd the earth, That from ^Eolian fields, I first brought lyric strains; And, on Italian lands, produced the sweet refrains. Then crown my glorious brow, sweet muse Melpomene, With Delphic laurel wreath, and thereby honor me. —M. '02. A SON OF THE NORTH. SNAP, crash! "At last I am through that cursed thicket." It was the first of July, 1863, and the terrific struggle at Get-tysburg had just begun. After the remark with which our story opens, the speaker, a young man clad in the gray and gold of a Confederate staff-officer, slippped from his saddle, and leaving his horse to graze about on the scanty grass, climbed a little farther up the hill, and stepping upon a pile of stones, swept the surrounding country with his field-glasses. "Surrender or die!'' suddenly exclaimed a low voice, in which there was a perceptible note of laughter. The officer lowered his glasses with a start, and turned in the direction from which the sound had come, whilst he fumbled for his revolver. The next moment, with a cry of surprise and joy he passionately em-braced a tall, blue-clad figure. For awhile the grim business on which they were each engaged was forgotten, and they fairly over-whelmed each other with questions. They had been chums at col-lege, but at the outbreak of the rebellion they had enlisted, the one in the Northern, the other in the Southern army ; and now while out scouting, chance had thrown them together near their old college home. Suddenly, as they talked, the glad light of THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 6l welcome faded in the Northerner's face. "And what do you know about Bess Marl ?" he said. "Why, you know I used to go out there frequently. Don't you remember?" "No, I don't." "Well, perhaps I didn't tell you where I went; we used to keep such things quiet at college, but that is where I made the calls you and the other fellows used to jolly me so much about. How is she ?'' '' Her father and brothers are all enlisted in the Northern army and she and her mother, as they remained on the place, are right in your line of attack. But, Bob, how comes you are so interested?" The Southerner's face reddened even through its bronze, and as the Northerner noticed it, it angered him. "So you love the pretty Bessie, do you?" Something in his tone caused Bob Lancy to look at him. "And what does that signify?" he questioned sharply. The Northerner's face softened and his grey eyes lit up. "Because I would give my life to keep her from all harm," he said softly, fancy's face grew dark, and for a few moments neither spoke. Then the Northerner stretched out his hand to Lancy as he said solemnly: "God knows, my only wish is her happiness. She shall decide between you and me; and you, Bob Lancy, shield her and her's, because till evening your lines will have enclosed her home." The Southerner grasped and wrung the outstretched hand while he repeated, "She shall decide between us." Then the two men pledged each other to shield and protect the girl for whom they would both have given their lives. "We may never meet again, who knows,'' said Lancy. "Good-bye, Harry Sinclair, dear old chum." Once more they wrung each other's hands, and then hurried away in opposite directions. It was late afternoon, and in the living room of a comfortable old farmhouse all was confusion. Heaps of household goods were lying packed, preparatory to being taken out of the reach of harm, by the large hay-wagon at the door. Two women were hard at work gathering together the most valuable articles, which an old servant was loading on the wagon. At last everything that could be taken with them was loaded, and with a last tearful 62 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. look at the old home which the shot and shell of the morrow would tear to pieces, they hurriedly mounted the wagon and drove away. Suddenly a horseman appeared beside the wagon from the al-ready dusky woods along the road, and with terror they noticed that he was clothed in Confederate gray. The next instant their terror gave way to joy as they recognized in the officer Robert Lancy. "Why, Miss Bess, I am in luck," he exclaimed in joyous tones as he recognized the occupants of the wagon. Greetings were exchanged; then, Lancy having assured them that the road was open as far as he knew, he was compelled to hurry away to report to his commander. Not before he had look-ed deep into Bess Marl's eyes, which met his for a moment, and then drooped as he inquired where he might see them again if he lived. At the last proviso Miss Marl had looked up quickly and then had bent to arrange something in the wagon and he saw her lips trembling ; then, with a lingering hand clasp he was gone. There had been a silent spectator in the woods beside the wagon. Harry Sinclair had been about to ride up to the wagon, when Lancy had appeared from the other side of the road. Now, as Sinclair rode away through the woods, his teeth were shut tight, and his face was perfectly bloodless in its pallor. He had seen the soft flush on Miss Marl's cheek and the drooping head. Alas, he knew too well what they meant. At first, fierce jealousy and anger took possession of his heart, then the wish that the woman whom he loved so tenderly might be happy at whatever cost to himself overcame all other considerations. The next day he was posted with his command on Culp's hill. About noon a Confederate cavalry brigade galloped out from the shelter of the woods, in splendid order. They swung into line as if on dress parade. Then, with sabres gleaming in the sunlight, they charged. Many saddles were empty by the time they reached the low stone wall. The next instant they were engaged with the infantry behind it. The struggle was fierce, but the Confederates were slowly gaining, when on their flank came the wild charge of a body of northern cavalry. Deep into the body of the Southern regi-ment, overturning horses, trampling their riders under foot, drove the wedge of blue. At the head of one of the companies rode Capt. Harry Sinclair. The light of battle gleamed in his eyes as he shouted to his men. The Southerners began to yield. Suddenly THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 63 Sinclair and Bob I_ancy were sword to sword. Both are good swordsmen and the combatants seem equally matched. But what is the matter with Sinclair? Twice there has been an opening, and twice he has turned aside his blade. Suddenly, his guard goes down and with a groan he pitches forward and falls. Quickly his old chum leaps down beside him. A stray bullet has pierced his lungs. With a tender hand, Lancy lifts the dark, curly head and presses his flask to the pale lips. The eyelids quiver and the gray eyes open. He recognizes Lancy with a smile and tries to speak, but a rush of blood checks him. At last he whispers, "Good-bye, Bob,—dear—old—chum. Tell—Bess—I—knew she—loved you and so I didn't"—but his voice fails. With a last whisper of '' Give—mother'' he points to his coat pocket, then his noble young spirit quits the earth. The wave of battle has swept into the distance and still Bob Lancy sits like a statue, gazing piteously at the form of his chiv-alrous- hearted friend, who had redeemed his love with his life. —C. M. S., '01. ENVIRONMENT. THE stripes of the Bengal tiger, as if the shadows of the reeds amongst which he walks; the snowy whiteness of the Polar bear; the delicate, leaf-tinted hue of the green linnet; the rabbit's coat amongst the dead leaves of autumn, or that of the squirrel upon the oak; all are marked instances of the adaptation of environment induced by Natural Selection or otherwise. Fur-thermore, it has been shown by scientists, as Hunter, Alfred Russell Wallace, Hohugren, and Darwin, that even the organism of ani-mals may be changed by a change of habitat and food. The giz-zard of the pigeon is transformed to the carnivorous stomach of the sea-gull, if it is provided with meat for a considerable time; and, vice versa. Man, too, acknowledges these changes in him-self. Tennyson in the mouth of Ulysses, for whom he has named his charming little poem, says:— "I am a part of all that I have met." The need of environment, or the fact that man is not self-ex-istent, is almost universally acknowledged, at least, as well as the fact of environment. In and of himself, man is not. If shut 64 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. off from food and light he dies. Why, likewise, if he is deprived of mental food, books, and conversation and communion with others, will his intellectual and spiritual manhood not die? No internal force can supply this environment. In the physical world we have the same. A piece of coal is known to have the possibility of producing a certain amount of heat, yet it is not the coal alone. Without its environment of oxygen, it were nothing ; for it is the affinity of the carbon of the coal for the oxygen, and their precipitous rush to be united which causes the heat. The same need exists, and the same effects are produced in the lives and characters of men by environment and heredity, which together entirely determine the man. From Lamartine's "Cromwell" (p. 5) we quote, "Robert Cromwell, father of the future sovereign of England, brought up his family in poverty. * * The poor, rough, unyielding nature of this moist country, the unbroken horizon, the muddy river [the Ouse], cloudy sky, and miserable trees * * were calculated to sadden the dis-position of a child. The character of the scenes in which we are brought up impresses our souls." He then cites Mohamet from the scorching valleys of Arabia, Luther, Calvin, as well as Cromwell, adding, "As is the place so is the man." "That is very comforting and pleasing," says one. "Icannot live under the strain of college life and be a Christian," nor "on a stony farm," nor "in a factory," nor "with the kind of neighbors I have," nor "under the confining cares of the household, and maintain that sort of Christian life which I should like to pos-sess," come in the voices from all sides. They are trying to ex-cuse their lame and halting Christian life on the plea of one or more inherited traits, or their surroundings, which, they claim, make the highest Christian life impossible. Environment and heredity entirely determine a man's life, we repeat, granting that the proper interpretation be put upon those terms. Yet, this forms no plea for not living the highest Christian life, for there is spiritual as well as physical Environ-ment and Heredity. Our occupations, tastes, ways of thinking, even looks, may become changed, but nowhere can there be found, save perhaps negative, proof (Compare Lu. 12:47, 48), that the Divine Judge will mitigate his sentence because of en-vironment. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 65 Henry Drummond in "The Changed Life—The Alchemy of Influence" quotes the words of one of the highest intellects this age has known: '"By the love of God in Christ Jesus I am what I am.' If you ask me precisely what I mean by that, I say, frankly, that more than any recognized influence of my father or my mother upon me; more than the social influence of all the members of my father's household, more, so far as I can trace it, or so far as I am made aware of it, than all the social influences of every kind, Christ has had the formation of my mind and my disposition." God himself put an end to all excuses almost twenty-five hundred years ago, by his words to Ezekiel (Ch. 18: 2-4, cf. v. 20): "What mean ye that ye use this proverb concerning the land of Israel, saying, The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge? As I live, saith the Lord God, ye shall not have oc-casion any more to use this proverb of Israel. * * The soul that sinneth, it shall die." The spiritual environment leaves no room for pleas. The writings of the Apostle Paul as well as the sayings of Christ Jesus show us this fact. With scientific accuracy, Paul says, "Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think anything as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is of God (II Cor. 3:5). We ueed the environment, we have all we need in Him. Without it, man feels a need, a craving, a longing, for something, he hardly knows what. "I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for with-out me," severed from me, "ye can do nothing." (John 15 : 15.) "Our sufficiency," not a partially satisfying environment, but all we need in Him we find. "In Him we live and move and have our being." (Acts 17:28.) Ponder the thought until it enters into your very being, until it is revealed to you with transforming power. Then will there be "love, joy, peace," and not until then. When we can say with Paul: "I live, nevertheless not I, but Christ liveth in me," then shall we truly know the power of environment, and shall not desire to claim any excuses for a halting life. —C. C. G., '00. 66 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. A SKETCH OF THE DEVELOPMENT OF MUSIC. THE history of every art—literature, sculpture, painting, music or whatever it may be,—can usually be divided into several distinct epochs, each of which has its own peculiar char-acteristics. In music, authorities generally have four such divi-sions. It is my purpose in this short sketch to glance briefly at each of these periods and name the distinctive characteristics of each. Far back in the beginning of every nation or people there was a time when music, or to speak more correctly, the raw material of music, consisted of only the sounds of nature such as • we hear to-day among animal life and among certain savage tribes. As definite notes, few, of course, at first, began to take the place of these indefinite and irregular shouts and cries, music came into ex-istence. Examples of this change may be found at the present day amongsavage peoples. Their songs usually consist of vague howls or wails which are but a slight advance upon the original nature-sounds. They are in a transition state between meaningless sounds and music. The next step in the development of the art was the formation of melodies; songs began to arise. These songs are called "folk-songs ;'' they exist among all peoples and nations and differ in beauty and form just as the peoples who invent them differ in character and in habits of life. For instance, the folk-songs of Southern Europe,—Italy and Spain, are of a light, very melo-dious character, usually sung in quick time, and accompanied by dancing; those of Germany and the Anglo-Saxon races are entirely different,—not so melodious perhaps, but by certain repetitions, . and peculiar methods of being sung, impressing one with a sense of stability, firmness and great reserve power; those of Russia and Poland differ again, and so these folk-songs are peculiarly char-acteristic of the nation producing them. The reason for this is obvious. These songs are produced spontaneously, almost invol-untarily, not according to any fixed type or design,—they come from the very heart of the people and hence are truly an index to their life. Simultaneously with the production of these folk-songs, there come into existence, series of notes which bear a certain re-lation of pitch, one to the other. These series we now call "Scales." Of course, the original scales were very different from those in use THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 67 at the present day; they were very rude, and consisted of probably three or four notes separated at what is technically termed an in-terval of a fourth or fifth. Another noteworthy mark of this period is the great difference existing between the prominent types of music, such as symphony, sonata, oratorio and song. These types are subdivided and each subdivision receives distinctive treatment and differs from the others. For example, piano music has come to comprise calibres, nocturnes, lyrics of all kinds, dances of various sorts, and almost endless varieties. In the opera we find, the grand, the comic, the buffa and other national and distinctive types. The differentiation of forms (if I may use the term) goes on continually. The resources of this age are immense ; materials are at hand for mankind to ex-press anything he wants to. Owing to the fact that there are so many different types of music in this present age, it is impossible in a sketch like this to adequately describe even the principal of them ; so I have selected one particular form, and one with which we are all familiar,—the modern song. Nowhere else is the tendency to use characteristic expression more displayed than in the typical modern song or ballad. Songs there have been all through the history of music; it is like a thread that runs through all the periods of the develop-ment of the art, but it has only been in comparatively recent years that a musical system has been devised which is elastic enough to admit of every mood and emotion of the composer or performer. Composers in earlier times did not pay much regard to the words which they set to music; they regarded them as a certain number of syllables which would admit of being set to a singable tune. They thought their tunes ofmuch more importance than the words ; hence they paid little or no attention to either the accent of the syllables or to the sentiment expressed. The songs were tune and tune only. But as new resources in harmony were used and tonal-ity became better understood, under various influences, the final expansion and perfection of the form as we have it to-day, was reached. The names of three great modern song composers stand out pre-eminent; they are Schubert, Schuman and Brahms. The works of these three great masters of song are properly called ' 'classical.'' They are the best. And iu their works many illustrations of charac-teristic expression may be found. "Grelchen a?)i Spi?mrade," by 68 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. Schubert, affords a good example. The words which are set to music are by Goethe. The story of the song is this: Margaret sits at her spinning-wheel and sings of her absent lover. And notice that the accompaniment throughout the song is very suggestive of the hum of the spinning-wheel. As she sings she begins to describe him. She tells of the beauty of his form, the soft glance of his eye, the melody of his voice, and finally the culmination of the climax is reached when she says, " [/?id Ach! sein Kuss!" Here the hum-ming accompaniment ceases: the music moves in a progression through a series of chords until the highest emotional point of the acutely sensitive harmony is reached on the word "Kuss;" there is ahold on the note to this word, succeeded by a short pause, then the music drops gently to the deep bass of silence and reflec-tion ; the accompaniment is taken up again but brokenly, as though suggestive of sobs or sighs, then the original accompaniment and melody is begun again and the song moves on. There are many more examples which could be cited. But there is another kind of modern song with which we are even yet more familiar—the so-called "popular" song. Who can give the cause, the philosophy of the popular song ? It grows up almost in a single night it seems, and b}r the next morning everybody is whistling it. Probably some music-hall singer with her own picturesque personality first sings it; the people are pleased both with the singer and the song—and in a few days it has spread over the entire country. Many of these popular songs are worth-less— of no merit neither in the music nor sentiment expressed. But once in a while a real gem is found among the pile of rubbish. These few songs are the ones that endure. These are the good old songs "which are sung as much now as at anytime of their exist-ence. They will always be found to be those which have not sim-ply pleased the ear but also touched the heart. There is a chord in the heart of every one which responds at once to "Home, Sweet Home." "Annie I^aurie" will endure as long as the English language remains in existence. The dying turn, not to the music of symphony societies, but to "Rock of Ages." And so there are other examples of these songs which survive. Some one has well said, "Strauss may set the feet to dancing, Wagner please the brain, Mozart delight the ear, but nothing can touch the heart like the "good old songs." —F. '00. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 69 EDITOR'S DESK. FOR quite a while Gettysburg has not been making marked progress in athletics. Our alumni have heard time and again of colleges, which a few years ago were glad to be called the rivals of Gettysburg, sending our teams home, beaten and discouraged. There are few things which so cast gloom over a college as the news that the team, in whom the college's reputation is centered, has lost game after game. It is not difficult to find the cause of this. Our teams themselves are not to blame, for they have done all that teams, unsupported, could do. The great need of Gettysburg is a permanent coach, one who can stir up among the students sharp competition in athletic sports. Every one true to Gettysburg will thank the Pen and Sivord for its generous offer of $75.00 to help pay the salary of a permanent coach. Athletics begin to brighten up again; the students realize that a loyal hand is helping them and we feel that under the impulse of enthusiasm and college spirit, our teams will hereafter make the reputation of Gettysburg what it once was and what it must be. A new feature or rather a revived feature of college life now presents itself to the colleges of Pennsylvania. A great revival of inter-collegiate debates has taken firm hold upon our higher institutions of learning. A strong point in favor of these debates is the preparation for them, which will put life into college liter-ary societies. (Comparatively few colleges have live societies). Probably no study in the curriculum of any college can prepare a student to think so quickly and so powerfully, as debate. But as the excellent mental training of debate is too well known to speak of, suffice it to say that Gettysburg feels the impulse stirring her sister colleges and is preparing to act her part in contests not far distant. A word on April is not out of place. April is the great war month of Americans. Lexington, the beginning of the Revolu-tion, was fought in April; Ft. Sumpter was first fired on in April; the late war with Spain began in April. Many other im-portant events, e. g., the inauguration of Washington, the sur- 7o THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. render of Lee, the assassination of Lincoln occurred in April, but the fact which makes April mean so much to us, is that in it our greatest wars began. Although Philo and Phrena are not what they should be and our athletics at present are somewhat below high water mark, we are greatly pleased to witness the loyalty of Gettysburg students. Nearly every man is intensely interested in Gettysburg's reputa-tion. This spirit of earnestness about the honor of our college is sure to result in good and our alumni may well be proud of their Alma Mater, since in the midst of the present circumstances,— when the work of literary societies and athletics is hardly worthy of Gettysburg—the students remain so loyal to the Orange and Blue. In the early part of March, Gettysburg was entertained at a lecture on physiognomy, delivered by Prof. A. E. Willis. Natur-ally, Prof. Willis maintained extreme views upon the subject. The lecture was regarded as interesting rather than instructive, nevertheless we believe that the audience was profited. *^2> FRANCIS SCOTT KEY'S MONUMENT. OUR National Anthem, The Star-Spangled Banner, owes very little to chance. It was an emanation of a patriotic fer-vor as sincere and natural as it was simple and noble. It sprung from one of those glorious inspirations which coming to an author unbidden, seizes at once upon the hearts and minds of men. The occasion seemed to have been created for the very purpose. Key's song was the very child of battle; it was rocked by the can-non in the cradle of the deep, its swaddling clothes were the stars and stripes; its coming was heralded by shot and shell. We know too well the story and circumstances which ushered it into the world. Key had obtained permission of the President to go to the English Commander, under a flag of truce, to obtain the release of a friend who had been charged of some offence and car-ried off prisoner. He was received by the English Commander THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 71 and obtained the release of his friend, but as the advance upon Baltimore was to be made that night, they were detained until morning. Key did not leave the deck that night and during the time the poem began to form in his mind. He finished the poem in the boat that took him to shore. The next day it was published by the Baltimore American. The poem tells its own story and never a truer one came from an heroic soul, powder-stained and dipped, as it were, in sacred blood. To the "Francis Scott Key Association" is due the tardy justice of erecting a monument to the famous author. Within four years they collected the money and erected the monument over the remains of Key and his wife. Hitherto unmarked except in the humblest way, their final resting place has been at last separated from among surrounding multi-tudes of less distinguished graves to be at once an altar and shrine known among men wherever liberty makes her home. The mon-ument is simple in design, nevertheless the whole effect of the design is an elaboration. Key is represented on shipboard by the "dawn's early light" and when he sees that the flag is there, his attitude is one of delight and exultation, as with his right arm he indicates the fact to his companions, while with the other he holds his hat aloft in salute to the starry flag. The right arm holds a staff with the Stars and Stripes pending in deep folds. It was a very impressive sight when Key's great-great-granddaughter un-veiled the monument. "The Star-Spangled Banner" was played and the words were taken up and sung by thousands of patriotic souls. —R. W. DOTY, '99. KEE MAR. Kee Mar College, Home of Beauty, I've no fault to find with thee; I have been to see thy ladies, and they've quite enamored me; True it is, I must confess it, yet I know you will agree When I say that since my visit, I must correspond with thee. Fairest flower of God's creation, I have yet to speak to thee; Matters not if thou dislike it, 'tis the truth—then let it be. If one thought above another makes my heart leap from its place, "Tis the thought of my fond darling, my sweet darling, lovely Grace. Heaven's choice of fairest beauty, angel's voice of sweet refrain; Thou hast dropped thy part in Nature, thou hast reached a higher plane, Few there are of earth transcendent, fewer still that are sublime; But thou, Sicely, art supernal, Sicely dear, thou art divine. 72 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. Queen of earth and light of heaven, sweetest girls that Kee Mar knows, Loveliest flower in God's garden, from whose lips sweet nector flows; Driving care cannot o'erpower it, brutish impulse not suppress Love and honor, faith and virtue, that reposes in my Bess. Charming gem of pearly slendor, I've no fault to find with form, All my thoughts soar earth transcendent, imprisoned in thy snowy arms. Should you only give me welcome, over thee I'd then unfurl Stars and Stripes, and battle ever, fighting for my priceless Pearl. Sweetest bud of fragile beauty, I've no fault to find with thee. Matters not tho' thou canst never let thy love light shine on me. Matters not tho' Heaven should hide thee, yet thy spirit I'll caress, Caring not for any other, other than my darling Jess. Full grown flower of glorious beauty, how I long to press thy hand; Thou hast set my heart to fluttering, fluttering by thy magic wand. Should I, traveling o'er life's desert find a flower not born of earth, I would call it for my Sara, Sara mine of matchless worth. —BUTTERWORTH, '99. THE VALUE OF GOOD LITERATURE. IT is very essential to the success of every student that he should realize the great importance of the study of literature, assign to it a very prominent place among his studies, and try to familiarize himself, as much as possible, with the best literature he can procure. If one wishes to become an accomplished scholar, he must have a thorough knowledge of the English classics, and become familiar with the lives and works of all the great writers in the world's history, both ancient and modern. It is impossible to understand and comprehend clearly the En-glish classics, unless we have a thorough knowledge of the classics of the ancient Greeks and Romans, for their writings are but the models which all the great writers since their time have imitated, since that time when the blind Homer, traveling as a wandering minstrel, sang his immortal verses to admiring listeners in the dif-ferent cities of ancient Hellas, or when Virgil cast an unfading lustre over the age in which he lived, by his elegant compositions. Again, while the student is familiarizing himself with the world's best literature, at the same time he is pursuing a course of study which will strengthen and develop the mind, and he is also becoming acquainted with the customs and manners of the times which the author describes. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 73 The study also serves to form in the student's rnind a larger vocabulary, so that he may have a ready, versatile use of words, and in the practical lines of the writer he will learn many max-ims of morality and beautiful descriptive passages which will be serviceable to him in after life. Of the many authors and writers noted for the sublimity and simplicity of their works and writings, and especially those which touch the heart, Horace, Virgil, Burns, Tennyson, Longfellow and Whittier may be mentioned. Also in the study of the best literature, the student comes in contact with the mighty minds of old, the representatives of the greatest intelligence that ever existed in the history of the world, and these should inspire the student to do grand and noble deeds during his life so that he may make for himself a name for great-ness, that will be immortal. Many great men have been inspired and incited by the study of the great classics, such as Homer's Iliad, Virgil's ^Eneid, Milton's Paradise Lost, 01 Tennyson's In Memoriam. The study of the best literature also cultivates a literary taste so that one may see literature in all things, especially in nature with all her suggestiveness, as it was in the case of Burns, and cause one to exclaim with Byron : "There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep dark sea and music in its roar; I love not man the less but nature more." Thus we find that one of the most important elements enter-ing into the true success of any student, is familiarizing himself with the literature of his own language, which can be accom-plished only after we have a proper knowledge of the literature of the ancients. —P. S. H., '01. ATHLETICS. ONE of the most pleasant athletic events of the year was the exhibition of the Sons of Hercules given on Friday even-ing, March 17th. The work done was of a high stan-dard, and the program was varied by music by the glee and man-dolin clubs, a boxing match between Richards, '01, and Floto, 74 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. '03, and a basket-ball game between the Sophomores and Fresh-men. The team gave exhibitions of work on the mats, horizon-tal bar, and horse, with a number of pyramids. Numerous specialties were introduced by different members of the team, one of the prettiest of which was the club-swinging by Traub and Scott, which would be hard to excel. The basket-ball game was rendered interesting by the fact that the teams had played to a tie some weeks ago. It was marked, however, by loose playing on both sides, and won by the Sophomores by a score of 12 to 5. Throughout, it was an evening of genuine entertainment, and was witnessed by a very large crowd, none of whom went away dis-appointed. The members of the team are: Koller, '00, leader, Krafft, '98, Bumbaugh, '99, Straw, '99, Traub, '00, Bottiger, '00, Claney, '00, Stock, '00, Bickel, '02, Smith, '02, Smyser, Sr., '02, and Smyser, Jr., '02. At a recent meeting of the Athletic Association the matter of a coach for baseball and track was considered, and it was decided that we procure one. The offer, by Pen and Sword, of $75.00 was accepted, and a committee was appointed to visit the boys for the purpose of procuring as much more as may be necessary. The committee consists of Herman, Penrod and Leisenring, and they have already gotten a number of subscriptions. This is a matter of vital importance to our athletic interests, and it is hoped that every man will go down into his pocket when these men visit him. The committee to secure the coach is, Albers, Weigle, Imler, and Ney. They are in communication with several men, and there will no doubt be a coach at work by the time this appears in print. Manager Weigle has added another game to the baseball schedule—with the Pennsylvania R. R. Y. M. C. A. at Philadel-phia, on Saturday, June 3d. This is the only non-college game of the season, and the first meet with this association in any form of athletics. It is always represented by strong teams, and iu baseball is regarded as one of the crack clubs of the city. This will be one of the best games of the season. Our team has been practicing on Prep grounds since the middle of March. There is a good list of applicants, and we may hope to have a team which will add to the glory of Gettysburg. We are fortunate in having begun out-door work so early, and this fact should give an added impetus to the work. Manager Ney has scheduled the dual meet with Dickinson for ' THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 75 Wednesday, May 17th. The meet at Philadelphia, to which we send a team, will take place Saturday, April 29th. No baseball games have been arranged for either of these dates, in order that the best men may be on both teams. This is the department in which we are in the greatest need of training, and it is hoped that every man will take a proper interest and work hard, with or without a coach. —W. AMONG THE EXCHANGES. THE March number of the Bucknell Mirror is devoted to the literary societies of that university. It contains histories of the societies, a history of inter-collegiate debate at Buck-nell, and a symposium on the value of the training received in their halls, all the articles being by prominent alumni. The en-tire number is well gotten up, and is of special value and interest in these days when the worth of such societies seems to be for-gotten. It will be well for Gettysburg men to read it carefully. Another interesting number which March has brought to our table is that of The College Student, which is devoted to the alumni of F. and M. It contains articles by many alumni, and bio-graphical sketches of some former professors. The issue will surely attain its purpose as expressed by the editors: "We would have the alumni feel that they are still a part of us—of old F. and M.; and that The College Student is as much theirs as ours." Among periodicals issued monthly, and containing literary and news functions, the Haverfordian ranks with the best. It is neat and attractive in appearance, and the due proportion between literary productions and news is always preserved. The Kalends is always good, but the February number deserves special notice. The stories "Before the Fourteenth" and ''A Knight of the Slums" are above the usual standard of college fiction. The season is kept in mind by a number of dainty "Val-entines," as well as by an article on "The Trip,"—which de-lightfully reminds one of Jerome K. Jerome Americanized. The Lesbian Herald is another publication of "our sisters" which is always a welcome visitor. "The Entertainment of the Great Uncle Jasper," and "He, She, and Brooks" are worthy of favorable notice. 76 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. "Donatello in the Marble Fawn" is a well-written bit of liter-ary study in the February Pharetra. It also contains some pretty valentine verse under the title "From Cupid's Bow-string." We are glad to see that college magazines are becoming more and more the product of the students. In but few and those of small institutions do we find the long discussions of obtruse sub-jects by professors and learned alumni which were once thought indispensable. In the realm of fiction, too, there seems to be a general progress, and the stories are getting away from the mor-bid style which used to infallibly mark a college man's produc-tion. EDITOR'S SCISSORS. FOUR EPITAPHS. Deep wisdom—Swelled head— Brain fever—He's dead—[a Senior]. Fair one leaves him—Hope's fled— Heart broken—He's dead—[a Junior]. Went skating—tis said Floor hit him—He's dead—[a Sophomore]. Milk famine—half fed- Starvation—He's dead—[a Freshman]. —Ex. THE PHYSIOGNOMIST'S DREAM. He walks erect, his laugh is sweet— 'Isn't he perfect from head to feet! And oh! those eyes!" His nose, just right— His brains are simply "out of sight!" Its name is "Sport." Her eyes are blue, her teeth are pearls, Her hair flows free in flaxen curls! Her person, neither large nor thin— Her voice is like the violin! The dreamer calls her "Queen of Girls." He has no hair, his look is meek, You count his bones in either cheek— His mouth's a cave, his ears are fans, His feet are not—his hands, "banans." Our friend, the dreamer, calls it "Freak." PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. The Century Double-Feed Fountain Pen. Fully Warranted. J6 Kt. Gold Pen, Indium Pointed. GEO. EVELER, Agent for Gettysburg College. PRICE LIST. No. 1. No. 1. No. 3. No. 3. Chased, long or short $2 00 Gold Mounted 3 00 Chased 3 00 Gold Mounted 4 00 Spiral, Black or Mottled »2 50 Twist, " " 2 SO Hexagon, Black or Mottled 2 SO Pearl Holder, Gold Mounted 5 00 THE CENTURY PEN CO., WHITEWATER, WIS. Askyour Stationer or our Agent to show them toyou. Agood local agent wanted in every school. RINTING "-"Bo- tb Croxel. Dealer in ^ine (groceries cmb Hottons «_«-4Jork Street. Teachers. Union Teachers' Agencies of America REV. L. D. BASS, D. D., Manager. Pittsburg, Pa., Toronto, Can., New Orleans, La., New York, N. Y., Washington, D. C, San Francisco, Cal., Chicago, 111., St. Louis, Mo., Denver, Col. There are thousands of positions to be filled. We had over 8,000 vacancies last sea-son. Unsurpassed facilities for placing teachers in any part of the U. S. or Canada. One fee registers in 9 offices. More vacan-cies than teachers. Address all applications toPITTSBURG, PA. MUMPER & BENDER Furniture Cabinet Making, Picture Frames Baltimore St., GETTYSBURG, PA. .GO TO. fjotel (Gettysburg Barber Sfyop. Centre Square. B. M. SEFTON. WTJ /"■/"YTWVDT Successor to . f. V-.WJJWIVJ., Simon J. Codori Dealer in Beef, Pork, Lamb, Veal, Sausage. Special rates to Clubs. York St., GETTYSBURG. .QO TO. CHAS. E. BARBEHENN, Barber, In the Eagle Hotel, Cor. Main and Washington Sts. Subscribe for tfye .©ettjjsburg. ZTCercury FAVOR THOSE WHO FAVOR US. Baseball ^applies, .SpalDing's Xeague JBall, dlMts, d&asfce, Etc. Managers should send for samples and special rates. 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Issue 64.1 of the Review for Religious, 2005. ; Biblical Helps Maki ng Co nne c tion s QUART~:RLY 64.1: 2005 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to cbarisms of Catholic religious life, As Pope Paul VI said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ YVeb 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 ¯ St. Joseph's Provincial House 333 South Seton Avenue ¯ Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2005 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy an}, material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~gournalof Catholic ~piri~uali~y eview for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Webmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Clare Boehmer ASC Steve Erspamer S~I Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Louis and Angela Menard . Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis csJ QUARTERLY 64.1 2005 contents prisms 4 Prisms religious life refocusea Religious Life: Naturally Sacred vs. Graced Sacred? Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR proposes a sacramental perspective as a corrective for religious institutes to employ in bringing a harmony between the apostolic service inspired by the graced sacred of their chrisms and that same service adapted to the naturally sacred of human invention. 22 Mixed Communities' Gift to the Church: Analogical Considerations Edward Foley OFMCap suggests that, when we look at lay-and-clerical religious communities through the lenses of biculturality and double religious belonging, we will find an untapped resource for the church and the world to which we minister. 37 bib icaO he ps Reclaiming the Prayer of Lament Colleen Vogt offers a pastoral solution for reclaiming the lament tradition, using lectio divina as a model to show how one might inhabit one of the p~alms of lament. Prayer / Reflection Review for Religious 51 The Role of Scripture on the Spiritual Journey Matthias Newman OSB reviews the gradual increase of Bible reading in the everyday spirituality of Catholics and gives some guidelines for a person's spiritual journey. Prayer 65 making connections ~ Aquinas, Pascal, Lonergan, and the Spiritual Exercises Frederick E. Crowe SJ describes two ways of our human growth--the way from above downwards (belief) and the way from below upwards (personal acquisition)--and applies these ways to the Ignatian Exercises. 76 Ignatian Colloquies: Their Surpassing Value A. Paul Dominic SJ reflects on the ease and power of the prayer time known as the Ignatian colloquies. Reflection and Discussion 89 94 99 departments Scripture Scope: Death and Resurrection: Patterns of Loss and Hope Canonical Counsel: Salus Anirnarurn Book Reviews 64.1 200~ What you are now holding in your hand is the first issue of a carefully revised Review for Religious. Our new subtitle, as you see, is A Journal of Catholic Spirituality, a description that has always been true of our journal without being expressed explicitly. One is slow to modify an esteemed sixty-three-year- old journal, either in its title or in its format. A number Of factors have led me as editor, with the consultation and approval of my advisory board and my editorial staff, to introduce this subtitle and a slightly different format, adapted from our experi-mental issues called Spirituality Review. From its beginnings Review for Religious had as its primary audience the many men and women reli-gious- priests, brothers, and sisters--now more accurately called members of the consecrated life-form in the church. At the same time Review for Religious had readers who were diocesan priests and seminarians and men and women belonging to "third Orders" or secular associations of traditional religious orders such as the Benedictines and Franciscans. But the very title of the journal referred only to "sisters" and "brothels" and some priests. Today, in view of the women and men who are now formally associated with the spirituality and min- Review for Religious istries of various religious congregations and the many others who are coworkers in the mission, it seems appropriate to make our name more inclusive. Our journal desires to share the charisms of consecrated life with all who hope thereby to enhance their Christian lives. Review for Religious has always been a journal for mem-bers of all religious congregations, without focusing on just one of them. Now this journal continues along this path with renewed mindfulness of how laypersons can benefit from the richness of the church's various spiritual traditions. Review for Religious will continue to publish articles that are theological, pastoral, spiritual, historical, and sometimes canonical. As in our Spirituality Review supplement, we will have some articles that invite interaction, both through per-sonal reflection and through conversation with others. At the same time, we will continue to publish articles that demand more attentive reading and slow personal assimilation. We will have the more interactive articles in full on our website () along with synopses of other articles from the current issue. They will be easily acces-sible via the "icons" that grace particular sections of each issue. We ask you, our readers, to spread the good news about Review for Religious. David L. Fleming SJ 64.1 2005 NIHAL ABEYASINGHA Religious Life: Naturally Sacred vs. Graced Sacred? religious life refocused The World Bank has initiated a dialogue with faiths and cultures. One of its aims is to maximize the effectiveness of its projects.' Underlying the dialogue is this institution's supposition that it needs to look carefully at the beneficiaries of its projects. Their perceptions and viewpoints could be more relevant and practical than those of its own administrative personnel. The question is twofold. Are the World Bank's assumptions a hindrance or a support to the projects it sponsors, and can there be a mutually beneficial dialogue (teaching and learning hand in hand, "evangelizing and being evangelized") between the financing partner (World Bank) and the beneficiary (the nation and its people)? In the present article I pose and try to answer those two questions in the .context of religious life. Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR has degrees in law, philosophy, Buddhism, and Catholic and evangelical theology; has recently retired from university teaching in Sri Lanka; and is spending time away from his country. He can be contacted c/o L.N. de S. Wijeyerame; 25, 2nd Lane; Ratmalana, Sri Lanka. Email: nabeyasingha@yahoo.com. Review for Religious If a religious institute can be considered the repository (the bank) of its charism and the "marginalized" the beneficiaries of its charism, the issues are, first, whether the methods of the institute are a help or hindrance to what it seeks to accomplish and, second, what mutual benefits of dialogue and interaction might we be talking about (evangelizing and being evangelized). I preface these reflections with a brief reference to Vatican Council II. When the decree Perfectae caritatis was being finalized, the forces in the council that were in tune with its renewed thinking had lost their theological battle to incorporate the vision of Lumen gentium (Constitution on the Church) into Perfectae caritatis (Decree on Religious Life). So they decided on a strategy. They outlined a method of reform and adaptation of religious life and left the actual adaptation to the religious institutes themselves. Perhaps no other council document (except Optatam totius in §16) describes a method so explicitly. The hope was that religious institutes would bring to their adaptation the vision of Lumen gentium. The method included two steps and five principles. The steps were for religious life to return to the sources of all Christian life and to adapt community living to meet the conditions of today. The five principles are (1) that the purpose of religious life is to follow Christ more closely, to live his story as it is told in the Gospels; (2) that the unique contribution of a religious institute to the church comes from the spirit and customs of its founders; (3) that all religious communities contribute to the church by taking up needs of the apostolate; (4) that communities' keen awareness of the human condition in today's world will help them serve more adequately; and (5) that all the external changes in the world mean nothing without a renewal of heart that never forgets that the goal of religious life is closeness to Christ through the vows. 64.1 2005 Abeyasingha * Religious Life The charism of the institute is a graced gift of the Spirit that~ is not available to all. A Challenging Counterfeit Probably all religious institutes have adapted their constitutions and statutes in accordance with these two steps and five principles, but problems arise amid this very renewal. In addressing them I offer this first hypothesis, namely, that sometimes what makes for the personal fulfillment of the members of a religious institute may hinder the effective functioning of the charism. The paradox of human existence is that we are spiritual and bodily at the same time. The paschal mystery touches the very depths of our being (see Rm 6). But the problem is: Can we ever fully know what our full potential as humans beings is and what depends on the gift of the Holy Spirit? Almost every spiritual gift has what has been called "a challenging counterfeit"-- spiritual healing-psychic healing, prophecy-psychic knowing, divine ecstasy-self-induced trance, and so forth) The one comes from the Spirit, the other from human nature. No one denies that what comes from human nature is good. But the problem comes when the natural is identified as not merely from "above," but as a gift of the spirit beyond questioning by mere mortals, including those entrusted with the task of "discerning spirits" within the religious institute. Natural gifts are good, even sacred, because they ultimately derive from the Spirit. But religious life bears witness to the following of Christ according to the charism of the founder. Following Christ is a call to all people without exception; the charism of the institute is a graced gift of the Spirit that is not available to all. Review for Religious The charism is different from the naturally sacred. Rudolf Otto wrote of the numinous. Jung discovered a religious component in mental health. The charism, on the other hand, is what can be called the "graced sacred." This graced sacred brings us to a greater awareness of our difference from God, seen in our particular personhood and historicity, and leads us to communion with God and with our fellow human beings. This is the point of Lumen gentium, the constitution on the church, describing the church as a sacrament, a sign and instrument of intimate union with God and the unity of the whole human race. Harmonizing the Naturally Sacred and the Graced Sacred What I suggest in this article is that the harmony comes about from the meaning of sacrament. The sacramentality of the church is expressed preeminently in seven different aspects (the sacraments) and many other practices (sacramentals). One sacrament cannot be substituted for another; the fruit of each is specific. That specific fruit is symbolized by specific natural elements and the orientation given to those elements by specific words. Similarly, I suggest, religious life and its institutes may not be in a position to use all of the naturally sacred (all of the multiplicity of good gifts) along with the graced sacred of their specific charisms, but must keep a sacramental perspective: the bread and wine of Eucharistic celebrations are no substitute for the water of baptism. To think and do otherwise is like something described by Eric Gill (1882-1940): "The clergy seem to regard it as their job to support a social order which as far as possible forces us to commit all the sins they denounce. ¯ . . A man can be a very good Catholic in a factory, our parish priest used to be fond of saying. And he was very annoyed and called us bolshevists when we retorted: Yes, 64.1 2005 Abeyusingba ¯ Religious Life but it requires heroic virtue and you have no right to demand heroic virtue from anyone and certainly not from men and women in thousands and millions." A Specific "Grace" for a Specific "Need" of a Specific "People" Here is an example from the secular world. Why do business corporations exist? To make a profit for shareholders by serving their clientele. Coca-Cola marketed a soft drink with a particular flavor for nearly a hundred years. Many felt it was time to change. A new flavor was developed. For four years there were market surveys and discussions about whether the new flavor would be accepted. Experts thought it would. But, when the new flavor was introduced, sales began falling, Coca- Cola dealers began complaining, speculators were buying up the old brand and reselling it at a premium. Once the facts were established, the management was quick to do a flip-flop. As always in the marketplace, even the cleverest ideas surrender unconditionally to reality. To express this in the language of sacraments, Coca- Cola is the church. The drink it produces and advertises (the external sign) is intended to get specific results: popular refreshment and financial profit. When adaptations are made for greater effectiveness and that effectiveness is not forthcoming, the company goes back to its original specific success. (The analogies here are, of course, rather loose.) Both business effectiveness and sacramental effectiveness may have something that religious institutes could well learn from. Another analogy would be: As any fisherman knows, the bait has to be attractive to the fish, not to the fisherman. A group of teaching brothers came from Europe to a mission country many years ago and established a small school primarily for Catholics in the town, but others were Review for Religious admitted if there was room. The brothers received no salary; their founding province supported them. Because of their sheer dedication, the school prospered. Years passed. Graduates of the school did very Well and soon held many of the better jobs. More and more students applied for admission. The school expanded. Fees were raised. The result? The poorer Catholic children for whom the school was originally intended could no longer afford the school, and, with the shortage of vocations in Europe, the brothers could no longer staff the school and so they pulled out. The diocese now runs the school. The question is whether the school and its activity and reputation are still effective signs producing the particular good result it was established to produce. Less than ten percent of its students are from poor Catholic families. I raise another question. A religious who was a popular teacher and preacher (let us call him Jack) asked and received permission to study for a doctorate in his own country. During his studies he wanted to continue with some teaching and preaching, his institute's main work; that, too, was approved. When he asked for a computer, however, he was told, "We cannot afford to give you a computer, but if someone gives you one you may keep it." At that same time his institute was spending a great deal of money on other things, including computers for others studying elsewhere. What sense does this make? What is the "sign value" of this refusal, especially when it is the institute's policy to provide members with what they need for their mission and apostolate? Priority of Insight over Orders: Problems of Transition An institution is always in danger of taking care of itself first and finding reasons for continuing to do what it has begun doing. Before Vatican II one hardly thought of the 64.1 2005 Abeyasingba ¯ Religious Life church and religious life as sacramental. They were institutions and functioned like clockwork on orders given from above rather than by options freely made by the members. The only option members had was to join the institute or leave it. Leaving An institution was not really an option, for is always in danger of it was considered putting oneself in danger of dam-taking care of itself first nation. But with Vatican II the idea came to the fore and finding reasons for-o that God's revelation is not continuing to~do so much the communication ~ of his will by commands, but what it has begun doing:., rather the manifestation of ___ I his call in Christ. Options took priority over orders--not that orders did not have a place. Life always has to function with some insights and orders from above. In the period of transition, option often came to mean a choice for oneself and for one's own pleasure and convenience. The result was some new terminology and some misunderstandings. Many religious who had worked tirelessly in the mission field were convinced of their mission's importance, but their success (judged especially by the love of the people) began to be criticized from the perspective of social-justice issues. Critics said it was more important to root out the causes of evil than to treat the victims of it. (When a drunken driver is knocking people down, one stops the driver first and then takes care of the injured.) 12 With democratic elections of superiors, numbers counted. Lobbying for candidates became a virtue supposedly for the good of the insftute. Advertisements in Catholic publications, and much more the talks of vocation promoters to prospective candidates, pointed Review for Religious out the benefits of joining this or that institute. One such promoter of vocations says, "If you join, you will get a good education, two degrees, never be without food, shelter, and clothing, take trips abroad" and so forth. The Ironic Priority of the Naturally Sacred over the Graced Sacred Twenty or thirty years ago a certain pastoral initiative was to be voted on. Some thought it was going astray. An insightful religious defended the initiative and argued that negative votes would probably be motivated by envy more than prudence. My interest now, though, is in the conclusion of what he said at the time, a short section titled "Tips to Younger Members." Today it seems to make a great deal of sense. I present an edited version of what he said, so that the individuals and the institute involved may not be identified. Those who have followed the recent efforts to block the pastoral initiative will surely have picked up some guidelines for their future. Some of these could be: 1. Concentrate on becoming popular. This is more important today, when decisions depend a great deal on the community, than when the superior was all-powerful. If you are accepted by the confreres, whatever you do will be accepted. If you are unpopular, you could be a hundred percent right, but people will find flaws. 2. Develop your apostolate outside the congregation, rather than do something that will redound to its name. 3. Spend more time on creating public opinion than on the actual work. Opportunities for this are many in the work you do and in community gatherings. Every vote you win can help. An 64.1 2005 Abeyasingba ¯ Religious Life excellent way of becoming popular is to caricature someone else, preferably someone who is out of favor at the time. 4. Note that some institutes operate like prima donnas and cannot tolerate another getting the limelight and tend to undermine those that succeed. 5. Note that, beneath all the spiritual talk, we use the same tactics that politics does; for example, we eliminate those who threaten our position. 6. Note that some confreres are skillful in getting people transferred, projects closed, and houses rethought. Enlist their help if you find that your present house or a particular confrere does not suit your taste. 7. Remember that, if you muster a sufficient quantity of emotion, it can carry more weight than rational arguments. 8. If you have a foreign degree and good contacts abroad, use arguments camouflaged by spirituality to prevent others from acquiring similar advantages: 9. Do not forget to choose scapegoats. They provide safety outlets for group frustration. If possible, pick on the more talented ones, for that will give you a head start in the race. It is easy to see that this man's irony points out the danger of the naturally sacred taking priority over the graced sacred and, worse still, acquiring institutional approval. Where to focus? My Contention is that the sacramental perspective, as outlined earlier, could function as a corrective. In this regard I recall two axioms that were used in sacramental theology: "Sacraments are for people" and "Sacraments are to be celebrated in a Revie~ for Religious human way." The corrective is people, learning from them even as one teaches and serves them and letting the normal dynamic of human interactions operate. Introducing a Corrective Based as they are on people's memories and often on their catering to their own selves, mentalities cannot be changed by decree. It is possible, however, to improve one's memories by expanding one's horizons. It is possible to lessen one's selfishness by increasing it, by including others within the ambit of self-love and self-fulfillment and thereby making pleasures of longer duration available to them and oneself, by loving your neighbor as yourself. In our day the horizons of memory are constantly being expanded. There is the effort to draw from Christian and pre-Christian thinkers principles that could be used in management. There is fascination in the variety of cultural patterns, even though unfortunately the principle of "might is right" sometimes operates. Other problems arise when people do what they consider good for others without paying enough attention to cultural patterns. Technology has expanded, and now there is the marvel of the global village. People cannot survive in this "village" by excluding others and looking out only for themselves. But that does not mean following others blindly. It is by contributing one's particular insight that one benefits from the global environment. How the Corrective Could Function The principle is that all people have specific contributions to make in the service of others. That is the reason for the very existence of religious institutes. In the global village the interconnections among people can help in the sharing .of benefits, but, if people simply remain members of the crowd and do not offer something 64.1 200Y Abeyasingba * Religious Life specific, the benefits to be shared are nothing special and what each person receives is even less. How the religious charism functions is not much different. Those who bear the charism today have to be fully aware of both providing and receiving benefits, benefits that are not necessarily measurable in money or any other numerical way. The benefits are in the life of the community of believers and in the life of the religious institute. In the history of Christianity, when many believers, sometimes the majority, deviated from gospel values, almost always it was a religious institute that initiated the reform. Eric Gill said that the "social order" which his parish priest supported (namely, values which well-meaning people usually support) often forces people to commit all the sins they denounce. This was the point made in the satiric novel The Ugly American, which showed how unintended negative results often come out of well-intentioned and generous works of U.S. foreign policy.3 One can perhaps draw from it some ideas for religious to take into account today. 1. If you manipulate people or achieve results using unethical means, the people at some point use these same means against you. Because unethical means often yield quick results, it is easy, when human rights are violated, to focus on some beneficial result being achieved at the moment. The words of a British politician are relevant: "We have no perpetual friends, no perpetual enemies; we have only perpetual interests." Western religious orders with dwindling numbers are tempted to take in members from wherever they can in order to continue the works they have set up. But have they ever asked themselves whether what they are doing caters to the self-interest of the recruits. Are the new members interested in religious life and the ministry of the institute? Or do they consider it a way of getting access to the more affluent world? By Review for Religious getting new members accustomed to levels of creature comforts well above those of the upper-middle class in their own countries, are religious institutes providing the means for a more effective ministry or are they creating a self-serving inward-looking membership? When higher superiors support blindly the actions of lower superiors, regardless of whether such actions are ethical or not, what message are they conveying to observers who have offered criticism and to others who see or hear about what is going on? The ironic "Tips to Younger Members" mentioned above are all-too-accurate a list of what religious institutes, sometimes knowingly, sometimes with naive good intentions, actually do. They seem not to ask themselves pointedly whether tolerating (or even approving) such conditions Wh nstarting lO al m-o ement, local resources. and arrangements almost inevitably causes amoral and even immoral practices to increase in the general membership. 2. When starting a local movement, use local resources. First discern the spirit of the locals that one chooses as collaborators. Then let the locals decide clearly and exactly what it is they want. When the project takes a life of its own, know that it is time to bid goodbye and let the locals manage.it. In The Ugly American a priest who wanted to do something for the locals has been so successful that the U.S. ambassador in the country writes about him, "If the report is accurate, this man is an agitator of the most extreme skill, and combines with this the typical Jesuitical command of dialectics. The priest is rumored to speak Burmese, eats native food, and is obviously engaged in some sort of papist plot. I need not remind you of Lenin's warnings about the skill of the 64.1 2005 Abeyasingba ¯ Religious Life papacy when its interests are threatened. I should appreciate receiving whatever dossier material you might have on this man.''4 If any project initiated by an outsider is to endure and not be considered a foreign imposition, it must take on a life of its own in the new soil. When people have forgotten who started a given project, that is a good sign. It means it has become part of themselves. In Bombay, India, the vigil Mass for Sundays was started relatively recently. But in Sri Lanka it has been functioning for over thirty years. The same is true of the paschal vigil celebrated after nightfall and not at midnight. If asked who initiated the changes in these places, people would probably have no idea. The fact is that they were introduced by one priest after he found that some people had difficulty coming to Sunday Mass and the Easier Vigil celebrated at midnight. Many of his fellow priests, however, were very negative about his initiative. If a project is to take a life of its own and continue beyond the lifetime of those who set it in place, it must operate according to local norms, use local resources, and harness local technology. The general temptation is often to go high tech, but in the less-developed world high tech often flounders. How many computers have been damaged when the electricity fails without warning or when voltage fluctuates? How much equipment lies unused in hospitals, either because the technician who was trained to operate the instrument has retired or because the materials required to operate it are not easily available? When high-tech equipment needs repair, who is at hand to repair it or who has the money to replace it? How few are those who think ahead and avoid such problems! How many projects fail to take account of the real needs of the people here and now and the present state of development! Are they projects that the people Review for Religious can contribute to and participate in? 3. If one can move with the "native" majority-- haltingly at first and with more confidence later--and come to share their way of life, one comes to understand their hopes and fears and expectations. That is an excellent basis for an apostolate that the majority will feel part of. With all their limitations and biases, they will bring also their native wisdom. On the other hand, if one begins with a minority elite that shares one's own cultural background and lifestyle, the apostolate is likely to move in an elitist direction and result in efforts "owned" mostly by the few and largely for their own benefit. 4. One can learn even from those who oppose one's efforts. In The Ugly American the exchange between two characters--both of them in the armed forces--is interesting. One is French and the other American. They are both involved in fighting the communists in Vietnam. The Frenchman believes that beyond the classical authors there is little to learn. But the war is going badly for those who are following classical methods. The American comes along. He proposes that some of the principles of Mao Tse-tung be included in their war effort, and he proposes fighting a battle on those principles. The Frenchman is surprised and even pleased at their success. The lesson is clear. One can learn tactics and strategy even from the "enemy"--those espousing false doctrine, unconscionable goals, and so forth. The Reassertion of the Graced Sacred Early in this article I pointed out the relation and the difference between the naturally sacred and the graced sacred. The interplay between them comes to the fore in Advent, when one reflects on the significance of Jesus' incarnation. It occurs in the prayers after communion on the four Sundays of Advent: "May our communion teach 64.1 2005 Abeyasingba ¯ Religious Life us to love heaven. May its promise and hope guide our way on earth"; "teach us to judge wisely the things of earth and to love the things of heaven"; "may this Eucharist free us from our sins and prepare us for the birthday of our Savior"i "in this sacrament we receive the promise of salvation; as Christmas draws near, make us grow in faith and love." It is not that the things of this world are evil. The statement "Indeed, nothing genuinely human fails to raise an echo in [Christians'] hearts" (GS §1) sums up the spirit of Vatican II. The point is the balance. While we appreciate and enjoy the things of this world, how do we express our faith in Christ? We seek a balance between the things of earth and those of heaven. The prayer in Proverbs 30:7-9 is relevant to ordinary human affairs and to the charism of a religious institute: "O God, two things I beg of you; do not deny me them before I die. Keep lying and falsehood far away from me; give me neither poverty nor riches; give me just as much food as I need lest, satisfied, I deny you and say, 'Who is Yahweh?' Or else, being in want, I steal and profane the name of my God." It is easy to begin well and end up doing all-too-well for ourselves. If, however, we live with and work for the majority and, more particularly, the lower end of that majority, then there is a good reality check on whether we are incarnating the charism to address today's needs or manipulating the charism for ourselves. An Italian missionary in Sri Lanka was known for his love for the laborers in his parishes. Eventually he became bishop and was known as the "coolie bishop." He traveled by public transport and, when asked why, said he liked to meet the ordinary people. Beggars walked in and out of his office. When celebrating Mass for the laborers, he went to them in full episcopal attire because, he said, he wanted to Review for Religious honor them. When I was a young priest, he was already retired. When I visited him soon after my ordination, he told me, "Look after the poor. If you do that, the rich will automatically come to you." Notes ~ See www.worldbank.org. 2 See Robert T. Sears, "A Christian Approach to Discerning Spiritualities," Journal of Christian Healing 21, no. 1 (spring 1999): 17-18. 3 William J. Lederer and Eugene Burdick, The Ugly American (London, 1958). By 1961 it had gone into thirteen printings. 4 Lederer and Burdick, Ugly American, p. 41. Be Still Be still, very still, and know that I am God. Listen to the steady breathing of a baby fern just before dawn. Listen to the high blue air calling to a distant cloud. (Do not try to woo me with your words. My heart already aches for yours - oh, if you but knew!) Listen to a cornstalk's shadow singing to the sun. Listen to ants chuckling, scratching their ears, to seeds throbbing with life. Listen long with your whole being. My voice is a whisper. My voice is silence. Be very, very still. Louise Finn CND 64.1 2005 EDWARD FOLEY Mixed Communities' Gift to the Church: Analogical Considerations An intriguing outcome of the 1994 Synod on Consecrated Life was the definition of a new genre of religious life, '~mixed communities." In Vita con-secrata Pope John Paul II has described "mixed" com-munities as institutes that originally "were envisioned as a brotherhood in which all members, priests and those who were not priests, were considered equal among themselves" but "have acquired a different form with the passage of time" (§61). Two distinct yet 0ppositional fac-tors in this picture are the clericalization that had occurred in many men's religious communities before Vatican Council II and the call of the council's Perfectae caritatis (§2) for communities to return to the original inspiration of their founders.1 Edward Foley OFMCap presented a x;ersion of this article in Assisi in March 2004. He is professor of liturgy and music at Chicago Theological Union, where his address is 5401 South Cornell Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60615. Review for Religious When my Capuchin Franciscan order addressed these two factors, it became clear that brotherhood and fra-ternity, rather than ordination, are the "specific kernel of the gospel form of life revealed by the Most High to Francis." Capuchins have declined to introduce "clerical institute" language into our constitutions, appealing this matter directly to Pope John Paul II in 1987. The pope's 1996 message to our minister general, in which he stressed the link between our identity as brothers and the nature of "mixed institutes," seems to affirm the non-clerical nature of our order.2 Despite such official clarifications, however, there continue to be tensions among Capuchins regarding the appropriate relationship between ordination and reli-gious profession. Such tensions manifest themselves gov-ernmentally around the questions of electing lay brothers as provincials and of the proper role of concelebration in Capuchin life. Initial formation also is a point of con-tention: formators struggle with balance between for-mation for Capuchin life and formation for ordained ministry. Such tensions are not limited to Capuchins or Franciscans; many "mixed communities" struggle with them. More broadly, the Roman Catholic Church itself could be considered a "mixed community" comprising lay and ordained persons, persons of equal dignity in dif-ferent ecclesial states of life. And so I offer this study of "Capuchin priesthood" not only as a way to rethink the nature of ordained priesthood within institutes of consecrated life, but also as a way to reenvision the relationship of ordination and baptism, of the clergy and the laity. If a community of equal members can consider the juxtaposition of its Franciscan "minority" and its sacerdotality less as a prob-lem to be solved than a grace to be lived, maybe its think-ing can help other religious communities and the church 64.1 200~ Foley ¯ Mixed Communities' Gift to the Church 24 itself to think about appropriate complementarities among the mix of lay and ordained members. I propose this reenvisioning through two unexpected analogues to the relationship of priesthood and member-ship in an institute of consecrated life. These two ana-logues are biculturality and double religious belonging. Biculturality One of the characteristics of 2 lst-century society is a heightened multiculturalism. Cultural commentators and especially cross-cultural psychologists have begun to explore the phenomenon of biculturality. Sometimes it is defined as "the ability of people in a minority culture to understand and work within the dominant culture in order to improve their economic and/or physical well-being .[while retaining] the knowledge and behaviors of their own indigenous culture." 3 Some contend that bicul-turalism is only a transitory phase.4 Others believe that biculturality is by definition the marginal experience of not being in either culture, but trying to understand and change that situation,s Recently, however, some researchers have argued that biculturality is not necessarily a matter of marginalizafion or dislocation nor an uncomfortable step toward assim-ilation. Rather, it is a healthy and even ideal stage in which one's original cultural worldview remains while one acquires other cultural views.6 According to these researchers, then, biculturality can be the integrated life stance of belonging to two cultures at the same time.7 This view of biculturality suggests that living what some have called "a hyphenated existence" successfully does not mean achieving a perfect equilibrium between cultures, but engaging in a continuous negotiation between them. Researchers have found that bicultural persons do not embrace elements from both cultures to Review for Religious the same degree at the same time. Instead, as their self-identities adjust to various social situations, they seek various cultural balances.8 They seem to achieve an advanced degree of acculturation, becom-ing adept at drawing upon varied aspects of their cultural identities as needed. I think that this more positive and dynamic understanding of biculturality pro-vides a useful analogy for thinking about religaous profession vis-a-vis the priesthood. In particular, I think it makes three distinc-tive contributions to thinking about this relationship. First of all, biculturality suggests that being an ordained religious does not force one to choose either the religious life or the priesthood as primary or foundational. Unfortunately, this choice is often made: men describe themselves as "first a Capuchin, and only then a priest." Such words imply that one vocation is not as important or as privileged a voice in the identity as the other. Chronologically, of course, formation as a Capuchin ordi-narily comes first and then formation for presbyteral min-istry, but this does not prevent a friar from living an integrated life, with religious profession and ordination as equal dialogue partners in the lived "culture" of his vocation. If one were to find theological meaning in this chronology, a meaning that would supersede "cultural" considerations, that could introduce a kind of colonial-ism by suggesting, for example, that Capuchin priesthood must somehow be tamed by Capuchin life--or vice versa. Biculturality, however, suggests another way. Individual Capuchins and Capuchin communities that 64.1 2005 Foley ¯ Mixed Communities' Gi~ to the Church welcome both profession and ordination can model-- because of that lived reality--a mutual "inculturation" (not an "acculturation,''9 but a constructive bicultural-ity), an integration without denigration. This would be a turn to what some theologians call "complementary dualism," a kind of East Asian yin-yang symbolic think-ing-- a "both/and" form of thinking distinct from the "conflicting dualism" and "either/or" thinking that mark so much of Western thought.1° Biculturality reveals that, in the hyphenated reality of the friar-priest and in the reality of ordained and nonordained members in mixed communities, there is actually grace: for the individual, the community, the church, and the world. Biculturality suggests that there is here a gift to be accepted, not a problem to be solved.~ There is, as Jung Young Lee asserts, an invitation to be not only "both/and," not only "in-between," but also "in-beyond," transcending the present and finding a new identity, a new understand-ing, a new relationality epitomized as a "harmony of dif-ference." 12 A second contribution of biculturality to our under-standing of ordained religious and of communities that comprise both the lay and ordained vocations is aware-ness of the dynamism present there. As previously noted, various studies have shown that bicultural persons make various adaptations according to various social situa-tions. 13 This insight is useful for mixed communities and for their individual friar-priests. Just as a bicultural African American woman knows when to adapt to one or other circumstance or keep a balance between them, so can individual Capuchin priests and Capuchin communities acquire sufficient integra-tion to know what to do when. An example would be concelebration. When they concelebrate, ordained friars emphasize the presbyteral facet of their ecclesial identity. Review for Religious Sometimes this is most appropriate, as at the Chrism Mass on Holy Thursday, when priests celebrate receiv-ing their priesthood from Christ in union with their bishop. At a Mass of first profession, however, concele-bration is inappropriate, for it would emphasize the priesthood of some of the friars at a ritual moment when our Capuchin identity is the focus. Concelebration is not an absolute right; it needs to be regulated in accord with various sensible considerations.14 Note that the goal of people's inculturation is alertness to relevant consid-erations and wisdom in weighing them in various cir-cumstances. One-size-fits-all responses (such as "No concelebration, ever" or "I always concelebrate") are not adequate. The goal is not to ignore or suppress prefer-ences and other considerations, but to find the appro-priate dynamic balance in various circumstances. A third contribution of bicultural understandings is that they can put us in solidarity with the many sisters and brothers around the world for whom biculturality is not an option, but a fact of their everyday life. The last thirty years have brought a 230-percent increase in the number of people who live outside their countries of birth--an estimated 185 million people,is Growing numbers of today's people are of mixed race. As V]rgilio Elizondo has aptly noted, "the future is mestizo." 16 Of course, biculturality and mixed race are not nec-essarily synonymous terms, especially if one thinks of biculturality as an advanced state of acculturation. Unfortunately, many immigrants and people of mixed race live in circumstances of marginalization and forced itinerancy, not integration. Such pilgrims long to move in from the margins, finding a society that allows them to live their own lives--woven of disparate social and cultural strands--in integrated and peaceful ways. If we are to be on mission to these displaced and dis- 64.1 2005 Foley ¯ Mixed Communities' Gift to the Cburcb traught people, we must acknowledge that our first step in evangelization is "the example of our lives.''~7 The ecclesially "mixed" ~8 nature of international communities such as the Capuchins is an untapped resource for our mission to those caught between countries, languages, We are a hybrid community, a conjunction of lay and ordained, disparate str~ands woven together into a single, yet not homogenized identity: ? and cultures, for we embody an ecclesias-tical biculturality and are a religious paral-lel to what some post-modern scholars call "hybridity." We are a hybrid community, a conjunction of lay and ordained, dis-parate strands woven together into a single yet not homogenized identity. We are living examples-- or at least potential examples--of ecclesiastical incul-turation, of the integration of clerical and lay cultures into better relationship. Double Religious Belonging Another contemporary form of hybridity is double religious belonging.19 This, too, may help lay religious and ordained religious reimage their togetherness. Double religious belonging--that is, being an adherent of one religion while incorporating the teachings or prac-tices of another religion--may be attributable to increas-ing globalization. In the West and in a church such as ours, this appears to be the case.2° In countries like Japan, however, double religious belonging is not only widespread but also a traditional, preglobalization real-ity. Recent government statistics indicate that, in a coun-try of 126 million, 100 million Japanese identify Review for Religious themselves as Shinto adherents, and 95 million identify themselves as Buddhists. The only conclusion one can draw is that a majority of Japanese consider themselves both Shintoists and Buddhists.2~ Not only is double religious belonging the rule in China, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, India, Nepal, and Sri Lanka;22 it is also at the root of Christian origins. Claude Geffr~ writes: "At first the Jews who had become disci-ples of the path of Jesus found it completely normal to continue to visit the synagogue, to be circumcised, and not to eat certain forms of impure meats. Thus they believed in the possibility of remaining Jewish while becoming Christian.''23 Despite this history, however, double religious belonging has emerged as a theological problem "in reli-gions that demand an absolute and exclusive commit-ment on the part of their adherents to their founders and/or faiths." Peter Phan numbers among such reli-gions Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. He notes that "these three religions consider themselves not only mutu-ally incompatible but also irreconcilable with any other religion whatsoever, so that 'conversion' to any one of them is often celebrated with an external ritual signaling a total abjuration of all previous religious allegiances." Despite such official stances, some Roman Catholic and other Christian scholars believe that double belonging-- being a Hindu Christian or a Christian Buddhist--is increasing and may even be desirable.24 1 will leave that debate to theologians concerned with religious plural-ism, but I want to examine two contributions that dou-ble religious belonging brings to our rethinking of the "mixed communities" of priests and lay religious. First, double religious belonging is a catalyst for a particular and promising type of dialogue across notori-ously difficult terrain. Vv'hen individuals and communi- 64.1 200Y. Foley ¯ Mixed Communities' Gi3~ to the Church ties simultaneously identify themselves with two distinct religious traditions, they enable dialogue marked by unusual openness and absence of acrimony. In describing effective interreligious dialogue, Jacques Dupuis says that, "in order to be true, interreligious dialogue between persons of different faiths requires that both partners make a positive effort to enter into each other's religious experience and overall vision insofar as is possible.''2s Such empathy is a particular gift of those individuals and communities who live not between but within two dif-ferent religious experiences. Their dialogue is actually a dialogue with themselves, and it has a ready capacity for honesty and authenticity in a complementary rather than exclusionary manner. It is, in effect, a public self-exam-ination requiring a particular humility and honesty. Such dialogue is not only a technique for survival but a powerful form of witness and evangelization.26 It reveals Christianity in its most hospitable mode, allowing for "mutual complementarity" that enriches all partners in the dialogue.27 It is a rejection of colonial forms of mis-sionary activity where the goal is to impose one's reli-gious beliefs on another community, and an exquisite example of a new kind of missiological dialogue--a "mis-sion in reverse"--in which a true mutuality between mis-sionary and community develops,z8 Analogously, 2 lst-century Capuchins--like other mixed communities--embody a kind of double religious belonging, both within individual friars and within our communities. The graced invitation here is to a public dialogue of the self, a new response to our constitutions' call to "mutual dialogue" in a spirit of fraternal under-standing and sincere esteem,29 a call to a continual self-examination marked by empathy, honesty, and hospitality. If we can sustain such humble dialogue, not so much for resolving some perceived problem in our Capuchin iden- Review for Religious tity as for continual self-reflection, Capuchin life will freshly give gospel witness to people outside the Roman Catholic community. Simultaneously, such Capuchin Franciscan dialogue will become a poignant form of "new evangelization," not only (in Pope John Paul's words) as "reawakening traditionally Christian countries to the urgency of the gospel," but also as struggling with the alienation that faithful Catholics often feel as a result of clericalism in the face of yearnings for new models for the ordained ministry. A second contribution of double religious belonging to our rethinking of Capuchin priesthood is its invita-tion to reconciliation. Few forms of violence are more heinous than those perpetrated in the name of religion. Holy wars, a disturb-ing human reality, are a particularly unset-tling legacy among Jews, Christians, and Muslims.3° In his clas-sic work Violence and the Sacred, Ren4 Girard ,i A secon~ d. contribution of idouble religious belonging ' :o~o to o.urreth~i~tking ~ ,,~"~ ~i~of Capuch~n priesthood ::~ ,:is i~s invitation to r~coffciliation, has demonstrated how religion and violence are wed together in ancient religions.31 As recent events in Bosnia, Northern Ireland, Israel, Afghanistan, and other places demonstrate, however, the inseparability of religion and violence has not been relegated to some ancient past. Sadly, many today embrace violence as a "sacred duty." 32 As Christians we are called to confess the horrors we have perpetrated under the banner of Christ. As John Cobb summarizes, "our history is replete with persecu-tion of Jews and heretics. We have sanctioned and sanc- 64.1 2005 Foley ¯ Mixed Communities' Gi3~ to the Church dried conquest and slavery. We have undergirded patri-archy in extreme and horrific forms. We have ignored the consequences of our actions for the well-being of the natural world, thus threatening the human future on this planet. We have used political and economic power to force our beliefs on others." 33 Few have modeled our need to confess such sins of commission and omission as much as our H01y Father, who throughout his pon-tificate has confessed the wrongs that the church has perpetrated against Jews, the Orthodox, minorities, and others.34 This is an essential move towards reconcilia-tion. Yet forgiveness is not a power that belongs to the perpetrators, but a gift that belongs to victims, and it is a gift they can give only when they are no longer demo-nized, colonialized, trivialized, or in some other way dis-missed as the "other.''3s Those who experience the grace of double religious belonging can show us the way. They have embraced the other to themselve~ and become living icons of interre-ligious dialogue. As dynamic models of integration, they clarify that reconciliation is not an act once and for all achieved, but an abiding prophetic stance.36 Individuals and, even more so, communities of double religious belonging are symbolic antidotes for the poisons of reli-gious ignorance and hostility, and show the way to "shalom." A minorite community of lay and ordained members can be similarly iconic. Individual ordained fri-ars and, even moire so, communities of lay and ordained brothers also manifest, in a sense, double religious belonging. They show clearly that there are no aliens or strangers in our midst, that otherness is to be welcomed. What a potent witness to a church in which there is considerable feeling of alienation. Many feel that prob-lems of a clerical culture significantly contributed to the sexual abuse that has rocked the church in my own coun- Review for Religious try and others. The clergy and the laity feel some alien-ation from each other. In a recent study of newly ordained Roman Catholic priests in the United States, the respected sociologist Dean Hoge reports that sev-enty- five percent of diocesan priests in the United States ordained between 1995 and 1999 believe that ordination confers on priests a new status which makes him essen-tially different from the laity; sixty-nine percent believe that a priest must see himself as a "man set apart" by God; and thirty-six percent think the laity need to be "better educated to respect the authority of the priest's word.''37 This suggests that considerable numbers of Roman Catholic priests and laypersons may view each other as different, unreconciled strangers, even aliens. Like all those who embrace otherness even in them-selves, we Capuchins too must be agents of reconcilia-tion, in the church and for the church and the world. In the image of the Crucified, we are called to break the circle of violence, to model a new way of being church, a new way of being priest, no.t predicated upon separa-tion and sacralization, but rather in solidarity with oth-ers and in humble service. A Gift to the Church Often communities like my own consider the issue of lay friars and friar-priests an internal one. I would contend that mixed communities are not an intra nos "problem," but a gift to the church and the world. The meaning, the reality, of that gift is well illustrated by its analogy with the contemporary phenomena of biculturality and double reli-gious belonging. Such reenvisioning is useful not only for mixed religious communities, but also for a the contem-porary "mixed" church. In a world and church wounded by violence and oppression and abuse, it is only through collaboration, mutuality, and an openness to understand- 64.1 2005 Foley * Mixed Communities' Gift to the Church ing and abiding with each other that we can prevent vio-lence and become true collaborators in God's reign. Notes t For help on this article, I am grateful especially to Professors Stephen Bevans SVD and Robert Schreiter CPPS of Catholic Theological Union and to my Capuchin brother Patrick McSherry. 2 Analecta OFM Cap (2002): 338-342. 3 Jerome Hanley, "Beyond the Tip of the Iceberg," Reaching Today's Youth 3, no. 2 (1999): 10. 4 See M.M. Gordon, Assimilation in American life (New York: Oxford University Press, 1964). s Visweswaran Kamala, Fictions of Feminist Ethnography (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994), p. 127, as cited in Ravneet Tiwana, "Hyphenated Identities and the Space 'In- Between': Construction of the Sikh-American Identity." http://depart-ments. oxy.edu/anthropology(31.xii.03). 6 J.M. Bennett, "Multiculturalism and International Education: Domestic and International Differences," in Learning across Cultures, ed. Gary Althen (Washington D.C.: National Association of International Educators, 1994), pp. 157-158. 7 See Jean Phinney, "Ethnic Identity in Adolescents and Adults: Review of Research," Psychological Bulletin 108, no. 3 (1990): 501- 502. s See K.A. Noels, G. Pon, and R. Clement, "Language, Identity, and Adjustment: The Role of Linguistic Self-Confidence in the Acculturation Process," Journal of Language and Social Psychology 15, no. 3 (1996): 246-264. 9 This is an intentional move from the term "acculturation," used by social scientists, to "inculturation," used by theologians. ~0 Jung Young Lee, The Trinity in Asian Perspective (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996), pp. 33-34. ** See the stories of "hyphenation" as 'an exploration of grace in Peter Phan and Jung Young Lee, eds., Journeys at the Margin: Toward an Autobiographical Theology in Asian-American Perspective (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1999). ,2 See Jung Young Lee, Marginality: The Key to Multicultural Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995). ,3 See Inga Jasinskaja-Lahti, "On a Way toward Integration: Russian-Speaking Immigrant Adolescents in Finland." http:// www.utu.fi(15.xii.03). Review for Religious 14 See John Huels, "Concelebration," in Disputed Questions in the Liturgy Today (Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 1988), pp. 39-45. ,5 This is a conservative estimate (9.i.04). ~6 Virgilio Elizondo, The Future Is Mestizo (Oak Park: Meyer-Stone Books, 1988). ~7 Third Plenary Council of the Capuchin Order (Mattli, 1978), The Path of Renewal: The Documents of the Five Plenary Councils and the First Assembly of the Order of Capuchin Friars Minor, ed. Regis Armstrong, p. 44. ,8 Letter of John Paul II to John Corriveau (18 September 1996) as cited in Analecta OFM Cap 112, nos. 3-4 (1996): 566. ~9 Though some speak of "multiple religious belonging," we opt for "double religious belonging." As Claude Geffr~ explains, multiple religious belonging is a postmodern form of syncretism in which con-sumers consider the living religions as supermarkets from which they choose. It is "believing without belonging," with little attention to "the credibility of this or that belief, its necessary connection to this or that religious system, and its incompatibility with other beliefs. The only criterion is the enhancement of my being and most inti-mate potentialities." See "Double Belonging and the Originality of Christianity as a Religion," in Many Mansions? Multiple Religious Belonging and Christianity, ed. Catherine Cornille (Maryknolh Orbis Books, 2002), p. 94. 20 See Catherine Cornille, "The Dynamics of Multiple Belonging," in Many Mansions? p. 1. 2~ Jan Van Bragt, "Multiple Religious Belonging of the Japanese People," in Many Mansions? p. 8. 22 Peter Phan, "Multiple Religious Belonging," Theological Studies 64 (2003): 498. 23 Geffr~, "Double Belonging," p. 102. 24 Phan, "Multiple," pp. 498 and 504. 2s Jacques Dupuis, "Christianity and Religions: Complementarity and Convergence," in Many Mansions? p. 64. 26 Sung-Hae Kim, "An East Asian Understanding of Mission," in Mission in the Third Millennium, ed. Robert Schreiter (Maryknolh Orbis Books, 2001), pp. 16-17. 27 Dupuis, "Christianity," p. 65. 28 See Claude Marie Barbour, "Seeking J~astice and Shalom in the City," International Review of Mission 73 (1984): 305. The Third Plenary Council of the Order (Mattli, 1978) affirmed this notion of "reverse mission" in Path of Renewal, p. 61. 64.1 2005 Foley ¯ Mixed Communities' Gift to the Church 29 Capuchin Constitutions 84:2; see 145:3,157:4, 162:1,175:2,175:4. 30 See Leo Lefebure, "Sacred Violence and Interreligious conflict: The Background of a Tragedy," Chicago Studies 41, no. 1 (2002): 8- 25. 31 Ren~ Gerard, Violence and the Sacred, trans. Patrick Gregory (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977). 32 R. Scott Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred: Religion, Violence, and Reconciliation (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2000), pp. 81- 120. 33 John Cobb, "Multiple Religious Belonging and Reconciliation," in Many Mansions? p. 25. 34 Many of these are chronicled in Luigi Accattoli, When a Pope Asks Forgiveness: The Mea Culpas of John Paul II, trans. Jordan Aumann (Boston: Pauline Books and Media, 1998). The book could not include more recent papal gestures such as the 12 March 2000 ceremony in Rome calling for forgiveness for the sins committed by members of the church, and the May 2001 trip to Athens, where the pope asked for forgiveness for sins against Orthodox Christians. 3s Robert Schreiter, Reconciliation: Mission and Miniswy in a Changing Social Order (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1992), pp. 45-46 and 52-53. 36 While John Cobb does not think that "multiple belongers" can lead the reconciliation process, I think he overlooks the iconic role of such believers in that process. See Cobb, "Multiple," pp. 26-27. 37 Dean R. Hoge, The First Five Years of the Priesthood: A Study of Newly Ordained Catholic Priests (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2002), p. 28. cloister space curves softly into silence here a solitude like trees becomes the smooth line of bench or table even the edge of longing breathes a blessing curving back into flesh and bone Lou Ella Hickman IWBS Review for Religious COLLEEN VOGT Reclaiming the Prayer of Lament Prayer has been described as "an exercise in dialogue with a deity that holds simultaneously great hope and immeasurable risks.''1 Christians, at least popularly, are taught to ask for what we need and to praise God for what we are given, bearing pain and pleasure just the same, as God's will. While there is, of course, value to prayer in a "Thy will be done" stance, we lose much if we cannot hold God accountable for our suffering as our Israelite ancestors did. Walter Brueggemann articulates well this "costly loss of lament." 2 This paper addresses a loss of lament and suggests that lectio divina can show how one might "inhabit the psalms of lament,''3 in particular Psalm 69, and thus enter into dialogue with God while feeling pain and anger. Costly Loss of Lament Much in today's world calls for lament: violence and war, our complicity in social sin, Colleen Vogt has a graduate degree in divinity and is in ini-tial formation at Mount St. Benedict Monastery; 6101 East Lake Road; Erie, Pennsylvania 1651 I. biblical helps 64.1 2005 Vogt ¯ Reclaiming the Prayer of Lament slander of one another, and even petty disagreements. We need to be able to bring such laments to prayer not only in petition and confession to be rid of them, but also from the very midst of our feelings of anger and anguish. Without lament in our prayer and worship, we live an impoverished relationship with God. We lose an element of authenticity in our prayer if we do not honestly face our faith's bewilderment at evil that still exists when God is all good and all powerful. Prophets offer us examples. Jeremiah speaks of being overpowered by God (Jr 20:7). If he does not take up this concern of his with God, he cannot grow in his relationship. Brueggemann suggests object-relations theory about mothers and their children as a parallel, but any human relationship can show this human concern for authenticity. When people feel trampled upon, they must speak up or risk not being a full person in relation to the other. As Brueggemann says, "the absence of lament makes a religion of coercive obedience the only possibility.''4 A pattern of coerced obedience is likely to think "If I am suffering, it must be God's will, and 'his will be done'" without us liking it, and in fact smothering some truth. At this point we need not become violent or abusively assertive, but we can ask for respect. Lament leads to asking questions of theodicy. By lamenting we express that all is not well with the world, that this state of affairs is changeable, and that it seems to be God's responsibility to change the situation. Just to form this thought has a benefit all by itself. Brueggemann points out that Jeremiah seems happy simply in the hope of having his say, without expecting anything to change: "You will be in the right, O Lord, when I lay charges against you, but let me put my case to you" (Jr 12:1, NRSV throughout). Jonah, however, clearly expects God to respond. He asserts that God has "cast [him] into the Review for Religious deep" and declares as an accomplished fact that God brought him back up from the pit (2:3-6). God is the one responsible for his downfall and the one who can restore him. "Deliverance belongs to the Lord" (Ion 3:9). The ancients reasoned that in a world without an evil God, and ruled over by an all-powerful God, if something is wrong it must be because of God. Speaking to God about this, or "holding God against God," is risky, but it allows one to continue.5 Otherwise, without admitting one's true feelings of lament, one could not truly express praise as a free person: "praise can retain its authenticity and naturalness only in polarity with lamentation." 6 If we admit this need for lament, how do we go about restoring it? There are a number of ways in our tradition. I suggest lectio divina as a help to inhabiting a lament psalm prayerfully. Lectio Divina Several recent books introduce lectio divina in an accessible manner. They provide slighdy different ways of prayerfully reading the Bible (or some other text). The following is an amalgamation of these sources and my own experience. Lectio: reading. What does the text say? What do the words actually say? Also, what is its literary or historical setting? One may read several translations or glance at the accompanying notes. Cross-references may provide insight into the text at hand. For those familiar with Scripture, connections may occur of their own accord. Lectio divina is not the time for more extensive research. Meditatio: meditation. One explores the text further, making room for it in our hearts. What word or phrase stands out? By focusing on short sections, we have time to mull things over. We may learn small parts by heart, to help our heart to become more involved.7 We reflect 64.1 200Y Vogt ¯ Reclaiming the Prayer of Lament prayerfully, drawing personal meaning from the text.8 We trust in the grace of God to lead us. These first two .steps are closely tied to each other and are similar to what I learned about exegesis as a theology What happens in us we trust in the gra ce of God to lead us? student. Lectio, however, is private prayer, and exegesis seeks more universal and communal insights. It is best not to double up and intermingle these two practices.9 Oratio: prayer. Once we have become familiar with the text, we are ready to relate it to our life. Perhaps the words invoke our deepest desire; they may help us find meaning in suffering. They may have reminded us of others who need our compassion. Other words, too, may come to mind at this moment in a prayerful way. Contemplatio: contemplation. Here, more or less beyond words, one sits in the presence of God. During prayer these stages are not always clearly delineated, but they have a general movement toward contemplatio. Often one reads slowly and mindfully until a word or phrase catches one's attention or tugs at one's heart. Then one pauses for a shorter or longer time. Vv'hen attention wanes, one returns to the same text or moves on.|° Lectio and a Psalm of Lament Let us now apply this to a psalm. I chose a psalm because, as a postulant in a Benedictine community, I look to know them more deeply and because the "psalms invite us to be honest." ~ They give us scriptural language to express and transform deep and dark emotions such as anger, self-righteou.sness, and sorrow. And I have come to appreciate the special relationship between the psalms Review for Religious and lectio. Bernard of Monte Cassino says, "In psalmody we speak to God, in lectio God speaks to us through the Scriptures. In the first we ask him about things, and in the second we understand the answer." 12 Lectio/Meditatio I put these two steps together to bring some exegesis to the prayerful reading, for it can provide enrichment. When one has great familiarity with Scripture, a kind of exegesis arises spontaneously in prayer, but beginners can use help in making connections and understanding the psalms' literary style. In Psalm 69 there are many graphic images: "waters have come up to my neck," more enemies "than the hairs of my head," poison and vinegar for food and drink, and enemies "blotted out of the book of the living." These give readers pause and invite them to react. The images of distress may stir compassion for the psalmist or a memory of having felt like that. One may think of examples of unjust sufferers: prophets of the gospel, persons falsely accused of crimes, the church itself, or Jesus, the ultimate innocent suffering servant. The strong curses may evoke immediate resistance because Christians should "love your enemies"--or perhaps agreement with the vindictive sentiment as personal enemies come to mind. But any of these reactions may signal that God is trying to say something to our heart. The reactions may be invitations from God to go deeper. They may suggest that we pause and ponder. What is God saying through this text? Alternate translations may help. The words quoted above from the New Revised Standard Version are almost the same as those in the New American Bible, except that "poison" becomes "gall." Are there cross-references provided for this text? This is, in fact, the psalm most quoted in the ~4.1 2005 Vogt ¯ Reclaiming the Prayer of Lament Cursing enemies is a difficult_.th ei one with which many modern ,Christians are uncomfortabie. What is my res ponse? New Testament.13 "Gall and vinegar" appears in the Gospel accounts and in Romans 15:3 and Hebrews 11:26. Verse 25 about a camp made desolate is used in Acts 1:20 to refer to Judas. Revelation 3:5 mentions "the book of life" of verse 28 (and elsewhere in the Hebrew Scriptures). Seeing the psalmist's words reinterpreted on Jesus' lips in the Gospels or used in explaining theological concepts in Paul's letters brings new levels of meaning. Christological interpretation of the psalms is very much a part of the patristic tradition. Biblical notes and commentaries offer background information on several phrases and themes. The "deep waters" of verse 2 suggest the chaos engulfing the earth itself along with this innocent person. In the praise at the end, even the sea, which was a threat in the beginning, offers its praise to God. The water reference could also refer to a river ordeal, a trial by water to test the innocence of a person.14 This ancient practice was revisited in European medieval and American colonial witch trials. Praise as a sacrifice or offering to God is another theme in this psalm. This usage helps scholars to date this psalm. Because verses 30-31 say that a song of praise is worth more than an animal (or grain) sacrifice, the psalm is probably exilic or postexilic; there is no temple in which to offer sacrifices.~5 Prophets and psalmists determine that God does not want animals ("Do I eat the flesh of bulls or drink the blood of goats?" Ps 50:13), but prefers people's obedience and songs of praise instead. Cursing enemies is a difficult theme, one with which many modern Christians are uncomfortable. The strong Review for Reli~ous words are frequendy omitted from the lectionary cycles even when the rest of the psalm appears. They are sometimes excised from communal prayer. But it is important to understand this literary device in its context. Hebrew is a particularly metaphoric and graphic language. Though desires for punishment are certainly expressed, the words are not all meant literally,16 nor are the psalmist's words a decree of punishment--this is no vigilante justice seeker. In the Israelite understanding, the curse was only to be effective upon God's judgment that the person was indeed guilty. This was helpful to Israel as a people without a modern justice system as we know it. This is the reasoning behind trials by ordeal. If God finds guilt in someone, he or she will die. This practice is not in accord with modern thought and sensibilities, but, in many cases, allowing God to do the punishing is an idea needed as much today as ever. Many a lawsuit or personal vendetta might be prevented if those involved brought their laments to God and left the case in the hands of divine justice. Another relevant aspect of cursing is that there is indeed evil in the world that needs to be exorcized. Though the Israelite understanding did not easily distinguish between the sin and the sinner or between the individual and the community, we can take a cue from the psalmist and curse the sin, asking God to purify this blot in our community. We can curse an evil on behalf of those who cannot, namely, the victims who have been so dehumanized that they can no longer pray themselves.17 Claus Westermann has noted the following elements in biblical laments: address or introductory petition, lament, turning toward God (confession of trust), petition, and vow of praise.~8 We see them to some extent in this psalm. "Save me, O God" invokes God in verse 1. Then there is a long lament to God over the psalmist's 64.1 200Y Vogt ¯ Reclaiming the Prayer of Lament 44 situation: false accusations, desertion by friends and family, ridicule for religious practice (vv. 2-12). There is a confident petition to God for help (vv. 13-18). "Answer me, rescue me, let me be delivered," verse 13 cries out. After more lamenting about his sorry situation (vv. 19- 21), the psalmist expresses a desire for God to punish his enemies (vv. 22-28). This cursing is especially graphic and invites us to admit our own inner violence. A final petition for salvation in verse 29 makes way for a song of praise that calls all the earth to praise God (vv. 30-36). This praise ends the mood of sadness and vindictiveness and moves the psalmist to trust that God will make salvation known by vindicating him in the here and now. Westermann offers another helpful observation. Three subjects or characters have a part in many of the lament psalms: God, the psalmist, and the enemies. Westermann traces the history of the lament psalms by noting the balance between the three subjects. Accusations against God become more and more subtle, perhaps representing a trend like the one we know today of being hesitant to accuse God. As this is. a later psalm, the small accusation against God in verse 17 is couched in restrained terms: "Do not hide your face from your servant"--words that hint that God be not silent or absent.~9 This close and prayerful reading of the psalm helps us see how others prayed this psalm in the past. We understand the situation and the words and phrases better, sharing in the tradition. But we do this in order to communicate with God better, and so we turn now to oratio and contemplati0. Oratio Looking again at the text, we pray it with new eyes and a new heart. Perhaps, by God's grace, we are inhabiting the psalm, or perhaps the word dwells in us. Review for Religious God spoke to us as we came to understand the psalm more deeply. Now we speak to God as we understand our own relation to the psalm. We pray as the innocent sufferer, declaring anger at God (a little) and at enemies and problems (a lot). We trust in God to restore our fortunes, sure that it will happen. We may repeat our prayer, perhaps going deeper. More understanding may come, or more earnest petition. At some point this dialogue is finished, and we are left without words, or "we read under the eye of God until the heart is touched and leaps to flame.''2° Contemplatio We may image contemplation as gazing at God or just being in God's presence.21 No deep searching of our own into the text can force this. Our reflection on the text is mere preparation, tilling the soil and watering the seeds. It is God who brings forth the fruit of the land and the fruits of contemplation. We move forward, changed by this encounter with God through the word of God. We ha~e followed the traditional lectio model for expressing and transforming deep emotions. By inhabiting the words and the world of the psalmist, we are brought into relationship with our tradition and with God. We go forward by witnessing to the Word as committed Christians, in a stage one writer calls operatio.22 Notes ~ Samuel E. Balentine, Prayer in the Hebrew Bible: The Drama of Divine-Human Dialogue (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), p. 168. 2 Walter Brueggemann, "The Costly Loss of Lament," in his The Psalms and the Life of Faith (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995). 3 Michael JinkJns, In the House of the Lord: Inhabiting the Psalms of Lament (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1998). 4 Brueggemann, "Costly Loss," p. 104. 64.1 200Y Vogt ¯ Reclaiming the Prayer of Lament s Balentine, Prayer, p. 146. 6 Claus Westermann, Praise and Lament in the Psalms, trans. Keith R. Crim and Richard N. Soulen (Atlanta:John Knox Press, 1981), p. 267. 7 Mariano Magrassi, Praying the Bible: An Introduction to Lectio Divina, trans. Edward Hagman (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1998), p. 109. 8 Thelma Hall, 7bo Deep for Words: Rediscovering Lectio Divina (New York: Paulist Press, 1988), p. 9. 9 Michael Casey, Sacred Reading: The Ancient Art of Lectio Divina (Liguori, Mo.: Triumph Books, 1996), p. 80. 10 Charles Cummings, Monastic Practices (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1986), p. 8. 11 Elizabeth Canham, Praying the Bible (Cincinnati: Forward Movement Publications, 2001), p. 33. 12 Quoted in Columba Stewart, Prayer and Community: The Benedictine Tradition, Traditions of Christian Spirituality, ed. Philip Sheldrake (Maryknolh Orbis Books, 1998), p. 34. 13 Carroll Stuhhnueller CP, "Psalms," in HarperCollins Bible Commentary (rev. ed.), ed. James Mayes (HarperSanFrancisco, 2000), p. 420. 14 John Kselman and Michael Barrd, "Psalms," in New Jerome Biblical Commentmy (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1990), p. 537. 15 Kselman and Barrd, "Psalms," p. 537. 16 Stuhlmueller, "Psalms," p. 420. 17 Stuhlmueller, "Psalms," p. 420. is Westermann, Praise, p. 170. 19 Westermann, Praise, pp. 169, 170, and 181. 20 Dom Marmion, cited in Hall, 7b0 Deep for Words, p. 44. 21 Hall, 7bo Deep for Words, p. 9. 22 Mario Masini, Lectio Divina: An Ancient Prayer That Is Ever New, trans. Edmund C. Lane (New York: Alba House, 1998), p. ix. Prayer / Reflection Let us use the fourfold traditional approach of reading, meditation, prayer, and contemplation as we enter into Psalm 69. Review for Religious In the Spirit of Psalm 69 Come and save me, O God, for the floodwaters rise, and my body has sunk in the depths of the mire; There is no footing left in this bottomless pit, which keeps dragging me under to make me expire. I am wearied from weeping and crying aloud, and my throat has dried up like a desert of clay, And my eyes swollen shut are consumed by my tears, while I wait for the Lord and continue to pray. They are numerous, more than the hairs of my head, they who hate me, unjustly, insisting I die; They are many and mighty, who force me to pay what I never did steal, which they claim, but they lie. O my God, you have known all my follies and sins, for my guilt I have never concealed from your sight; I admitted my faults and confessed them to you, and for these you have punished me, that is but right. But that they who have trusted in you, O Lord God, should be shamed, and through me, how could that ever be? How could they who have sought only you be disgraced? God of Israel, never permit it, through me! It was only for you that I suffered reproach, every insult and shame they could throw in my face, Like a stranger to brothers, an exile from home, by the sons of my mother cast out in disgrace. For the zeal of your house had consumed me with fire; these reproaches I bore were intended for you; When I wept for my sins and I fasted for days, those reproaches were mine, and the insults were true. I repented my ways, put on sackcloth for clothes, 64.1 2005 Vogt ¯ Reclaiming the Prayer of Lament and became like a fool for my sins which I grieved; How the mouths in the marketplace laughed me to scorn, and the drunkards reviled me with songs they con-ceived. But for my part, I sought only you, O Lord God! Come and favor mb now, come and answer my prayer! O my God, in your greatness, be tender and kind! Come and show me you love, show me how much you care! Let your faithfulness come to my aid even now, lest I sink ever deeper and deeper in mire; Let my enemy fail, as you rescue my life from the bottomless waters before I expire. Let the waters abate and not sweep me away; let the ocean not cover and choke me to death; Let the depths not rise up and then swallow me down, nor the grave close around me and smother my breath. Hear and answer me, Lord, in your bountiful love, all the mercy and goodness befitting your grace; Turn your face to me, gently, with deepest concern; take me into your arms with your fondest embrace. Turn your face not away from your servant in need, but have pity and answer me quickly instead; Draw me closer and closer to you, O my God, as you ransom me back from the fate of the dead. You have known all my shame, my abuse, my disgrace, the reproaches which crushed me and wasted my soul; This disease has consumed me and broken my l~eart, and my spirit, now helpless, has lost all control. When I looked for somebody to comfort my pain, there was no one With mercy or pity around; Wh6n I looked for consolers to share in my grief, Review for Religiou~ there was no one who cared, there was none to be ¯ found. But they poisoned my food and they sickened my thirst, when they gave me the dregs of their wineskins to drink; May their tables be turned into deathtraps for them, their companions, the pits which they fall in and sink. May their eyes grow too dim and distorted to see, and their thighs never cease from convulsing with fear; May you pour out your just indignation on them, and in fury destroy all the things they hold dear. May their camps be deserted like desolate wastes, no inhabitants left who could live in their tents, For the one you have wounded, they wounded the more, with their slanderous stories of sins he repents. Take account of the crime upon crime they commit, lest they enter your meadow, the pasture you tend; May their names be erased from the record of life, with the just be not listed in life without end. As for me, in my pain and affliction, 0 God, be my help and my bulwark of strength from on high; Only let me sing praise to the Name of the Lord and give thanks for His glory extolled to the sky. For what pleases the Lord, more than oxen or bulls, with their horns and their hoofs, is. the praise of His Name! So, take courage, you faithful ones who are oppressed, and your heart will rejoice in the God you proclaim! For the Lord in His love hears the cry of the poor, and He never forsakes those who cry out in need; They are bound unto Him who created their lives, who has bound Himself to them, His creatures, to feed. 64.1 200~ Vogt ¯ Reclaiming the Prayer of Lament Let the heavens declare it, their God is the Lord! Let the earth sing His praise for its life that He gives! Let the sea that is full of the creatures He feeds praise the Name of the Lord, their Creator, who lives! Know that God will save Zion and bring exiles home! They shall dwell in the cities of Judah restored! Know the seed of His servants inherit the land, all who love Him and trust in the Name of the Lord! Joseph E. Brown SJ, Jesus Sings the Psalms in Your Heart (1980) YO Review for Religious MATTHIAS NEUMAN The Role of Scripture on the Spiritual Journey Tena lB sipbilreit huaasl lpilvaeyse odf a C vaatrhieotlyic o Cf hrorilsetsi ainn st hthe rpoeurg-h the centuries. In the immediate pre-Vatican II church, the Bible had little impact on ordinary Catholic spiritu-ality; Mary, the saints, and popular devotions held the dominant places. The Bible was certainly revered as a source of religious truth, and many good Catholic homes had a family Bible, but not many Catholics read it reg-ularly for their own spiritual nourishment and their rela-tionship with God. Students in my theology classes over the past twenty years--who have been mostly of the post-Vatican II generation--are amazed to learn that the Bible seldom played a direct role in the religious forma-tion of their parents and grandparents. Since the coun-cil the Bible enjoys a larger role in everyday spirituality, but usages still vary widely among Catholics. Matthias Neuman OSB last wrote for us in 1997. His address is 1414 Southern Avenue; Beech Grove, Indiana 46107. 64.1 200Y Neuman * The Role, of Scripture on the Spiritual Journey In a course called "The Documents of the Second Vatican Council," one assignment I give is to conduct a number of personal interviews, some with Catholics who lived through the years of the council and can remember the pre-Vatican II days and some with persons born after the council. A key question of the interviews concerns the role of the Bible in the personal spiritual life of the respondents. Their answers range widely, but three groups typically appear. One comprises those Catholics who still have little.awareness of the Bible, who do not read it even occasionally or consider it a guide for their own spiritual lives. (Many of these same people can make little sense of the lectionary readings at Mass.) A second group reads the Bible in a fundamentalist way. It func-tions in their lives about the same as it does in the lives of Protestant fundamentalists--as the literal source of all religious truth. Their interpretation of many passages tends to be simplistic. A third group consists of Catholics who have developed a significant and balanced practice of Bible reading. Scripture functions in their lives as a source of spiritual direction and nourishment. Other variations could be identified, but these three suffice to show what a complex situation exists among the Catholic faithful with regard to the Bible and its role in their lives. In this article I want to explore the connections between a prayerful reading of Scripture and the appli-cation of that reading to a person's spiritual life journey. My intent is to get at a number of ways in which the "meanings" in the Bible help people set and seek their spiritual goals and make practical decisions. Beginning with a historical overview of the Bible's role in Catholic spirituality through the ages, I move to the church's cur-rent teaching on Bible reading as a personal spiritual practice. In a final section I suggest some specific ways the Bible can guide a person's spiritual journey. Review for Religious The Bible in Catholic Spiritual Life through the Centuries Private Bible reading was not much encouraged throughout much of Catholic Christian history. Vatican II stands as a refreshing new beginning in this regard. Make no mistake--the Bible has always been crucial to the Catholic Christian tradition, all the way back to the 2nd century, when the various books of the New Testament began to be collected. But the Bible was usu-ally seen as the source of authentic religious truth for the church as a whole, rather than as reading material for individuals. In the liturgy the "meaning" of the Scriptures that were read or sun'g was usually "given" through the spoken word of the preacher. Personal read-ing for meaning and application seldom occurred. There were, of course, exceptions. In the 3rd and 4th centuries, the Egyptian desert monks used the Book of Psalms as a "manual of conversion." The individual monks wanted their reading to effect a gradual conver-sion of their raging emotions, a principal goal of theirs. The practice of lectio divina that developed later, in cenobitic life, continued and broadened this application of the Bible to the monks' personal lives, but the prac-tice was not widespread in the church.1 A second excep-tion was the use of Scripture in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. Scenes from the Bible served as start-ing points for many of his exercises. But here again the practice was confined to limited numbers of directors and retreatants. Over the centuries, of course, personal reading of the Bible was encouraged by particular spir-itual directors. In the late 6th century, St. Gregory the Great, in his letters, often recommended the reading of Sacred Scripture to his correspondents? But these peo-ple were generally wealthy persons who could afford manuscript copies of a book or books of the Bible. This 64.1 2005 Neuman * The Role of Scripture on the Spiritual Journey luxury precluded its use by the general populace until the invention of printing in the 15th century. Before then, not many individuals or families possessed a Bible. The cost was prohibitive. An entire parish con-gregation might have only one copy of the Sacred Scriptures (usually locked up, except for services, or chained to the lectern). When the printing press began to make books more affordable in the early 16th century, the strong connection seen between printed books and the "private interpretation" of the Protestant Reformation made Catholic leaders try to limit Bible reading while Protestant leaders--with numerous Bibles printed in the vernacular languages--encouraged the reading of the Bible by everyone. The famous Catechism of the Council of Trent or Roman Catechism (1564) made no mention at all of reading the Bible as a spiritual practice for Catholics.3 In short, good Protestants read the Bible; good Catholics did not, for it could lead to doctrinal or moral error. Another change had been gradually happening in post-Reformation Catholic circles that also moved atten-tion further away from the Bible. As Catholic leaders became increasingly concerned with "correct doctrine and teaching," catechisms became the primary ways to teach people the true faith. Moreover, since some of those Catholic teachings (on the priesthood, the seven sacraments, and the Roman primacy, for example) were not clearly apparent in the Bible itself, catechisms became the immediate basis of instruction, without, of course, claiming to replace the Bible. In the long period between the close of the Council of Trent (1563) and the opening of the Second Vatican Council (1962), Catholics were sometimes counseled against reading the Bible personally. A New Perspective The Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation Review for Reli~ous (Dei Verbum) of Vatican II stands, therefore, as a strikingly new statement of the Catholic Church. It encourages ordinary believers to read the Bible regularly for their spiritual nourishment. Chapter 6, "Sacred Scripture in the Life of the Church" (§§21-26), forged a new direc-tion for Catholic spirituality. How that chapter came to be is an amazing story.4 The preliminary schema of the constitution contained warnings about laypersons read-ing the Bible. They were reminded to approach the sacred text with the church's teaching in mind and with careful preparation. They were to be ready to accept willingly any definite assertions of meaning the magis-terium made about individual passages.5 There was no mention of personal.spiritual nourishment. Two factors seem to have brought about the radical shift that occurred in the writing of this chapter of the document. The first was the comments and testimony of several Protestant observers about their own personal and communal church experiences of Bible reading and the many spiritual benefits it brought to people/The second factor was a principle from the patristic era, one that had slipped out of modern Catholic awareness, the strong parallelism between Sacred Scripture and the Eucharist. Several Catholic theologians had persuasively brought this idea to the committee's attention. In the end the drafting committee included a strong encour-agement of Scripture reading for believers' personal spir-itual benefit. This decision ranks as one of the major achievements of the council. Let us review this pivotal chapter, "Sacred Scripture in the Life of the Church."7 It begins by noting that Scripture along with Tradition is the supreme rule of the church's faith (§21). But then the text goes on to assert that the word of God also serves as "strength for faith, food for the soul, and a pure and lasting fount of 64.1 200~ Neuman ¯ The Role of Scripture on the Spiritual Journey spiritual life" (§21). This reading is for all believers. "Access to Sacred Scripture ought to be wide open to the Christian faithful" (§22). There are no restrictions. This practice is not limited to the clergy and to scholars, but is for everyone. Church leaders are to see that ade-quate translations in vernaculhr languages are available for the faithful (§22). Preachers, patristics schol-ars, exegetes, hnd catechists are to help people under-stand God's word (§23). The ordinary faithful them-selves are encouraged to pick up the Bible and read: "Let them go gladly to the sacred text itself, whether in the sacred liturgy, which is full of the divine words, or in devout reading, or in suitable programs and various other helps" (§2 5). Here the council fathers begin claim-ing Scripture reading as a spiritual practice for the Catholic Church. This section of Dei Verbum ranks among the more important of the council's pastoral decisions, because it led to many changes in the practical spiritual life of the church. Soon after the council, dioceses and publishing houses began to develop "biblical study programs" for groups and parishes. Interest in these programs ran high and gave many lay Catholics their first real familiarity with the sacred texts. Renew, the Little Rock Bible Study, the Paulist Press Bible program, and other endeavors began to make the Catholic faithful better acquainted with the Old and New Testaments as a resource for liv-ing their faith. Small neighborhood groups started meet-ing regularly to read and discuss the Bible. The spiritual How do We experience, preachers, patristics scholars, exegeteS, and catechists helping people under tand God's word? Review for Religious lives of innumerable Catholics were deeply affected by these developments. Almost thirty years after the council, the Pontifical Biblical Commission issued a document to assist such developments. Although this document, The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, is intended primarily for schol-ars, it has several pages that are relevant to us.8 Its sec-tion IV, "The Interpretation of the Bible in the Life of the Church," advances beyond Dei Verbum. First, it iden-tifies a specific purpose of reading the Scriptures spiri-tually, a purpose it calls "actualization." Actualization means putting the meaning of the Bible into action as a value or norm of behavior. It is not sufficient to read the Bible and merely understand its meanings; those mean-ings must begin to make a difference in how the reader perceives, judges, and acts as a believing Christian. Second, actualization presupposes a correct exegesis (explanation) of the text, part of which is the determin-ing of the literal sense--what the historical writers intended to communicate in their time, place, and cul-ture. Rejected here is any literary theory or assumption that the only real meaning is what the text immediately means to each reader. There is, however, a recognition that every text contains more meanings than the literal one; the richness of a written text is not limited by the lit-eral sense alone.9 This richness is part of the spiritual guidance of Sacred Scripture. The document recom-mends especially the Scriptural texts used in the liturgy as excellent for both personal and communal reflection. Finally, the document promotes the ancient monas-tic practice of lectio divina (divine reading), which is "a reading, on an individual or communal level, of a more or less lengthy passage of Scripture, received as the word of God and leading, at the prompting of the Spirit, to meditation, prayer, and contemplation.''~° We have come 64.1 200Y Neuman * The Role of Scripture on tbe Spiritual Journey a long way from the wariness of pre-Vatican II days, with its warnings about the dangers of false interpretation. Applying the Bible's Meanings to Personal Life We can now proceed to three specific ways of read-ing Sacred Scripture as nourishment or companion on our personal spiritual journeys. The first way is to exam-ine and apply the large patterns and themes which the books of the Bible offer. This knowledge can guide or challenge us into new areas of faithful Christian living. Sometimes these patterns will be quite obvious, for exam-ple, Job's struggle with God's justice. Sometimes a sec-ondary book can help us get off to a good start on one or another biblical theme. Andrew Ryder's Follo~ving Christ: Models of Discipleship in the New Testament can help us discover the various ways in which the following of Christ is depicted .in the New Testament and might be pursued today.~ Afterwards we will be ready to read and understand various suggested passages of Scripture more carefully. I have used this book in spiritual-direction ses-sions; it has helped people find a pattern of discipleship that fits their own life circumstances. In Matthew's Gospel, discipleship is expressed in community building; a beginning parish minister found in that Gospel a sense of direction for his spiritual jour-ney. Luke's Gospel sees discipleship more as an individ-ual stance in a large society; a young adult new to a large city reflected and prayed over that Gospel as a welcome way of maintaining strong faith in an unfamiliar setting. Another example of large Scriptural patterns guiding people's faith would be the contrasting Christologies of the Gospels of Mark and John. For those with too "divine" an image of Jesus, reading Mark slowly and meditating on its descriptions of Jesus' weaknesses and struggles can help towards appreciating the full down-to- Review for Religious earth humanness of Jesus (3:20-30; 6:1-6; 7:14-23; 8:16- 21; 11:12-21). On the other hand, John's Gospel will definitely strengthen people's view of the divine nature of Jesus and his mission (1:1-18; 5:1-47; 6:35-58). Various attitudes toward "law" are reflected in the writings of Paul and Matthew. For people struggling to overcome a paralyzing sense of law, Paul's letter to the Galatians high-lights Christian freedom, especially 5:13-26. That passage was of great importance in my own spiritual maturation as I began theology studies. On the other hand, peo-ple who need a deeper appreciation of the place of law in Christian life can benefit from sustained reflec-tion on the Gospel of Matthew (5:17-20; 12:1-13; 15:1-14; 19:16-24). Sometimes struggles dealing with anger, espe-cially towards God, are a problem. Reading the sections of Jeremiah called "Jeremiah's confessions" (11:18-12:6; 15:10-21; 17:14-18; 18:18-23; 20:7-13; 20:15-18) assist people to see how anger can change into improved prayer. One advantage of large Scriptural patterns and var-ious contrasts is that they can help Christians to be more sensitive to the differences in people's spiritual lives. Today many legitimate spiritualities exist in the church, many ways of actualizing the gospel in one's life. Instead of acting like competitors, all can benefit from a healthy exchange of ideas and practices. To acknowledge and cel-ebrate these differences and similarities remains an ongo-ing challenge for everyone in our variously pluralistic church. 64.1 2005 Neuman * The Role of Scripture on the Spiritual Journey A second method of reading the Bible personally uses individual passages as answers to personal questions or as directives for daily living. Christian history provides many examples of this. In late-3rd-century Egypt the young man Anthony, hearing in church the words "If you would be perfect, go sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven" (Mt 19:21), took them as addressed directly to himself. Thereupon he sold his many belongings and took up the life of an ascetic. Over a century later another famous African, Augustine of Hippo, torn by internal turmoil, picked up Paul's Letter to the Romans and read: ". not in riots and drunken parties, not in eroticism and indecencies, not in strife and rivalry, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the flesh in its lusts" (13:13-14). He describes its effect on him: "At once, with the last words of this sentence, it was as if a light of relief from all anxiety flooded into my heart. All the shadows of doubt were dispelled." 12 This method is often used in modern Catholic retreat practice. Individuals or groups are assigned a passage for them to reflect on and pray over, listening for how it "speaks" to them. The contemporary spirituality movement Focolare makes a monthly practice of reflection on a specified Bible passage. Some potential problems with this method need to be addressed. People may take the ideas that come from these passages as special divine messages, divine answers to some difficulty of theirs. Such interpretations need to be balanced with other factors: discussion with a spir-itual director, prayerful reflection, practical "testing," and so forth. People need to be cautious of "absolute" interpretations, taking them as God's direct inspiration. Some of Benedict Groeschel's guidelines for evaluating "private revelations" would apply: (1) Keep all claims of Review for Religious revelations in perspective; (2) no private revelation comes directly from God and therefore none can be assumed to be inerrantly true; (3) a private revelation by definition is personal and therefore must be carefully applied and must never be considered an infallible guide in any sit-uation.~ 3 Still, this use of Scripture can be beneficial. Biblical quotations often grace calendars, diaries, and notebooks. Using them as thoughts for the day or week or month can be a helpful spiritual practice. A third method of using the Bible for personal spir-itual nourishment is lectio divina. For years lectio divina was seen as a uniquely monastic spiritual practice. In recent decades it has come to be used widely in the church. The document mentioned earlier, The Interpre-tation of the Bible in the Church, encourages all Catholics to consider lectio divina as a way of reading the Sacred Scriptures.~4 The lectio divina of the monastic tradition differs from "spiritual reading," as a practice of the 16th and 17th centuries came to be known. Spiritual reading has meant a "set time" for reading a variety of religious books. Its primary purpose is religious information. Lectio divina means an in-depth reading of the Scriptures that challenges readers to personal conversion. The text is read slowly, more than once, and its meanings are mulled over in an effort to see their application to one's life. Lectio divina demands unbiased and receptive read-ing. It demands prayer and concentration. Focused atten-tion demands discipline of body and mind, and one prays for honesty, openness, and insight and for the grace to bring them into one's daily practice. The Bible has always been the favored material for everyone's lectio divina, but that does not mean it is an impersonal generic record. The books of the Bible are the word of God, but also are the faith accounts of real men and women, and so lectio divina is a unique form of 64.1 2005 Neuman ¯ The Role of Scripture on the Spiritual :yourney listening. The reader continually asks: What do these particular words coming down to me from these partic-ular people say to me? Those spiritual experiences are allowed to challenge my own. My faith is confronted with the faith of another, and in that encounter I may glimpse my own need for conversion. As I read St. Paul's words to the Philippians, "I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying in every one of my prayers for all of you" (1:3), I am led to explore thank-fulness in my own life. How often do I thank God, even for my best friends? How often do I pray for them? At this point we have arrived at the heart of lectio divina. By these questions in this context, the Christian feels hap-pily invited once again to conversion; God's grace to change for the better is there. A succession of such moments becomes a conversa-tion between the Christian and the Lord, a loving inter-change between ourselves and the Mystery of God, mediated by the faith-filled words of the Bible. Many use the daily lectionary passages for their lectio. In any case this conversation with God should be continued day by day. In it we will find ourselves noticing our motives, the effects our attitudes and actions are having on our-selves and others, and the shape our hopes and dreams are taking. The Second Vatican Council blazed a fine trail for Catholic spirituality by encouraging more reading of the Bible. Many have been following it with enthusiasm, but much remains to be done. The Bible and its many stories and poems of faith have the potential to guide people's faith life amid today's formidable challenges to it. Many need to become more aware of how much they need this treasure trove of Christian tradition for their own peace and happiness. The council says it well: "Such is the force and power of the word of God that it can serve the church Review for Religious as her support and vigor, and the children of the church as strength for their faith, food for their soul, and a pure and lasting fount of their spiritual life" (DV §21). Notes ' Michael Casey, Sacred Reading: The Ancient Art ofLectio Divina (Liguori, 1995); Matthias Neuman OSB, "The Contemporary Spirituality of the Monastic Lectio," Review for Religious 36, no. 1 (January 1977): 97-110. 2 Peter Brown, The Rise of Western Christendom (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell Publishers, 1996), p. 137. 3 [Addressed to pastors of parishes, the Roman Catechism (1566) does, however, cite explicitly about a thousand short Scripture pas-sages throughout--somewhat like the references made on pp. 59-60 above--and quietly weaves another thousand biblical allusions into the discourse. There are some twenty-five pages explicidy devoted to prayer and eighty-five more pages on the Our Father, all of them laced with Scripture. Ed.] The ten-year-old Catechism of the Catholic Church devotes eight pages specifically to the importance, place, meaning, and use of Scripture in the church (CCC §§101-141) and seventy-five pages to prayer (§§2558-2865), with considerable Scripture weaving in and out and the Our Father given pride of place as in the Roman Catechism. 4 Stanislas Lyonnet SJ, "A Word on Chapters IV and VI of Dei Verbum: The Amazing Journey Involved in the Process of Drafting the Conciliar Text," in Vatican 11: Assessments and Perspectives, ed. Ren~ Latourelle, Vol. 1 (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1988), p. 187. s Lyonnet, "Word," pp. 198-199. 6 Lyonnet, "Word," pp. 178-179. 7 Texts of Dei Verbum are taken from Vatican Council 1I: The Conciliar and Post-Conciliar Documents, Vol. 1, ed. Austin Flannery OP, rev. ed. (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1992). s Pontifical Biblical Commission, The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church (Washington: USCCB, 1994; also in Origins 23, no. 29 [6 January 1994]). 9 This issue is dealt with in detail by Sandra M. Schneiders IHM, The Revelatory Text, 2nd ed. (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, Michael Glazier, 1999). See especially pp. xxx-xxxiv. ,o Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, p. 38 (IV.B.2). II Andrew Ryder, Following Christ: Models of Discipleship in the New Testament (Franklin, Wisconsin: Sheed and Ward, 1999). 64.1 200Y Neuman ¯ The Role of Scripture on the Spiritual Journey ~z Augustine, Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), p. 153 (Book 8, no. 29). ~3 Benedict Groeschel CFR, ,'I Still Small Vo#e: /1 Practical Guide on Reported Revelations (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1993). ~4 The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, p. 38 (IV.B.2). Prayer Litany to the Holy Spirit Come, Spirit of wisdom, and teach us to value the highest gift. ---Come, Holy Spirit. Come, Spirit of understanding, and show us all things in the light of eternity. --Come, Holy Spirit. Come, Spirit of counsel, and guide us along the straight and narrow path to our heavenly home. --Come, Holy Spirit. Come, Spirit of might, and strengthen us against every evil spirit and interest which would separate us from you. --Come, Holy Spirit. Come, Spirit of knowledge, and teach us the shortness of life and the length of eternity. --Come, Holy Spirit. Come, Spirit of godliness, and stir up our minds and hearts to love and serve the Lord our God all our days. ~Come, Holy Spirit. Come, Spirit of the fear of the Lord, and make us tremble with awe and reverence before your divine majesty. --Come, Holy Spirit. -Viterbo University-Book of Prayers Review for Religious FREDERICK E. CROWE Aquinas, Pascal, Lonergan, and the Spiritual Exercises In the Second Week of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, the grace I ask for in the third prelude of the first contemplation (on the incarnation) is an intimate knowledge of the Lord that I may love him more and follow him better (§104).1 That establishes a pattern. In the next exercise (on the nativity) I make the same petition in the same form (§113). And so throughout the Second Week the grace I ask for is always the same, and is asked for in the same form.2 The aim is to know Christ and so to love him. This is in full harmony with the point that the actions of Christ we have been contemplating were performed for me; the Lord's nativity and all of his sufferings leading to his death on the cross were undergoneJbr me (§116). Love follows on knowledge: to know such self-sacrificing love calls for a return of love. Frederick E. Crowe SJ, a contributor to our pages in 1994, 1999, and 2004, is editor of The Collected Works of Bernard Lonergan. His address is Lonergan Research Institute; 10 St. Mary Street, Suite 500; Toronto, Ontario M4Y 1P9; Canada. making connections 64.1 2005 Crowe * Aquinas, Pascal, Lonergan, and the Spiritual Exercises The order from knowledge to love not only stands to rea-son and appeals to our common sense; it is also thoroughly Thomist, possibly reflecting what Ignatius learned at the University of Paris. At any rate, he could easily find this doc-trine in St. Thomas and make it his own. The will, Thomas holds, is a faculty that follows the direction of intellect. Few doctrines of his seem better established than that.3 Its position in Thomist thought is further solidified by its role in Trinitarian theology: as will follows intellect, as decision fol-lows understanding, so the Holy Spirit proceeds from the divine Word.4 No doubt the doctrine is true, central, and important, but it is not the whole truth, nor does Thomism exclude other ways of thinking on this question. One other way, especially, is nowadays coming to the fore. In current literature we repeatedly find a quotation attributed to Pascal: "The heart has reasons that reason does not know," and there has been a growing movement to explore those reasons of the heart that are not reasons in a strictly cognitional sense, and do not depend on prior knowledge. There even is a kindred doctrine in Thomas: what he calls knowledge by connaturality. The context for Thomas was the question whether wisdom resides in the intellect. In response he says that wisdom implies a rectitude of judgment, and that this rectitude can be had in either of two ways: either through the full use of reason.or through a certain connaturality with the matter under judgment. Thomas gives an example. In regard to chastity one person may have right judgment through moral science, but another person who has the habit of chastity may have right judgment through a certain con-naturality with the matter to be judged,s If we turn to Lonergan, we find him remarkably reticent on knowledge by connaturality, at least on knowledge so termed: it is missing from the indices of most of his major works. There is, however, a mention in a late lecture, where Review for Religious he says, "God's gift of his love is the cause of our knowledge of God by connaturality," and adds a reference to Aquinas.6 There is also his interview, again late in life, with Pierre Robert, where Robert brings up for discussion "knowledge of God by connaturality" and Lonergan responds: "[The knowl-edge of God by connaturality] comes about through charity. No created being provides a solid analogy (St. Thomas). There is an order: a wisdom that is sapita (savory) introduces an enlightened goodwill, which yields good practical or theoret-ical judgments.''7 But let us, like good Thomists, avoid slavery to words. Under another heading Lonergan has a full doctrine of his own that achieves the same purpose as knowledge by connaturality, that in fact includes in other terms both knowledge by connaturality and the usual Thomist order. And, because the unity of this twofold pattern could become such an important theme in the science of our spiritual life, and possibly in our practice of the Spiritual Exercises, I will try to Lonergan sees two patterns ff advance in human development, describe it in more detail and in simpler language. The thought of Bernard Lonergan may not be the simplest, but I am familiar with it, and it has the advantage of being a real fac-tor in his spirituality and his theology. The Two Ways of Human Development Lonergan sees two patterns of advance in human devel-opment. 8 I propose to see them first in their unity and con-trast, and then take each by itself. There is a movement from below upwards: from experience through understanding and judgment to decision and the commitment of love, and this is the order of the Ignatian Second Week. But there is also a process from above downwards: from love through commit- 64.1 2005 Crowe * Aquinas, Pascal, Lonergan, and the Spiritual Exercises 68 ment and judgment to understanding and enriched experi-ence. This second process gives us knowledge resulting from love, knowledge by connaturality, and it is the more funda-mental and the chronologically prior process. I believe that these two ways of development have much to contribute to a science of Christian spirituality. Do they relate also to the Spiritual Exercises? That is an intriguing question, and the pursuit of an answer is the main task of this essay. We must therefore take a closer look at Lonergan's doc-trine on each of these two ways. The Way from Below Upwards First, the order from below upwards: from experience through understanding and judgment to decision and the com-mitment of love. One simple way to see this "ordinary" way, in its elements and in their coherence, is to think of the "lev-els" of activity in a court case. There are witnesses who bring their experience to the case: what they saw, what they heard, and any relevant experience they had. There are attorneys, at least two of them, with their two different explanations of what the witnesses described; they represent the level of understanding. But understanding is a fickle instrument in the search for truth, and so, third, there are the members of the jury, who have to decide on the truth of the matter: Which attorney is right? Is the accused guilty or innocent? Finally, there is the judge, who not only presides over the whole oper-ation, but must take action, imposing an appropriate sentence or declaring the accused flee. This pattern of four steps, so sharply outlined in a court case, can often be observed in the give-and-take of family life, though there it is obscured by the chaotic flux of conversation. Somewhat more systematic than conversation and less sys-tematic than legal proceedings, this is the pattern we follow in the Second Week. We interrogate the witnesses in the way Ignatius describes: What are they saying? What are they Review for Religious doing? and so on (§107). In this way we come to understand and know our Lord better and, in response, to choose to love him and take appropriate action. In the words of the First Week, anticipating the response of the Second, what have I done for Christ? what ought I do for him? (§53). The Way from Above Downwards The way from below upwards is only half the picture. As time went on and the tableau of the two ways of development became a regular reference in Lonergan, the way from above downwards emerged more and more clearly as the way most of us live our lives. Its beginning is found in children, maybe even more than in adults. It coheres with the role of love in religion and theology. It descends from the gift of God's love through religious conversion to moral conversion, and per-haps-- though this step is more academic than spiritual-- through moral to intellectual conversion. The process from above downwards, thus briefly indi-cated, is not spelled out as fully as the way from below upwards, and so for an integral picture I have to piece together remarks from various places. My procedure is similar to what I believe prospectors for gold do: panning for nuggets and discarding the sand (though the "sand" may in this case have its own value). Lonergan starts as always with the gift of God's love. On our side there is the transformation of falling in love. One no longer is one's own. A life has begun in which the heart has reasons which reason does not know. A new world has opened up. In some kind of analogy, perhaps a rather distant one, this applies also to the Lord Jesus. We have to think of him "as developing from below as other human beings and from above on the analogy of religious development.''9 Here is a sweeping view of the process. Children are born into a cradling environment of love. The process begins in the affectivity of the infant, the child, the son or daughter, 64.1 200y Crowe ¯ Aquinas, Pascal, Lonergan, and ttse Spiritual Exercises ¯ 7o the pupil, the follower. On this affectivity rests the child's apprehension of values; as educators know, values are caught, n6t taught. On these apprehended values, belief rests. On belief follows the growth in understanding of one who has found a genuine teacher and has been initiated into the study of the masters of the past. Then, to confirm one's growth in understanding, comes experience made mature and percep-tive by one's developed understanding. One can recognize these terms as fitting into one or another o~: the four levels of human activity, but note that the experience at the end of the way down is not identical with the experience at the start of the way up. The experience at the start is rather raw material, but at the end of the circle it is experience "made mature and perceptive by one's developed understanding." Implications are many. One is the role of community. It is all-important in this process that we are born into and develop and live out our lives in a community, that our insertion into community and history includes an invitation to accept the natural process of development. In that process one belongs to a hierarchy of groups and so owes allegiance to one's home, to one's country, to one's religion. Through the traditions of the group, one is "socialized," finding that one's home is an exist-ing society. One is "acculturated," learning and accepting the values of one's group. One is "educated" to become in time a fully inserted member of the tribe or clan, and eventually a participant in the modernity that each generation must create for itself and for its posterity. (The trio of words in q~otation marks recurs over and over in Lonergan.) There are further implications. Of special impo~tfince is the healing factor. The transformation of falling in" love (domestic love, human love, divine love) is a healing',force. Where hatred sees only evil, love reveals values. In one sweep it commands commitment and joyfully carries it out. Where hatred reinforces bias, love dissolves it. We see this in our Review for Religious Catholic history. Christianity possessed the spiritual power to heal what was unsound in the imperial domain of Rome. But it was unaccompanied by its natural complement of creating, for a single development has two vectors: one from below upwards, creating; the other from above downwards, healing. Of similar importance is the factor, already mentioned, of tradition. The community receives and adds to what it has received and hands on the tradition. In this transmission, belief plays a key role. Through belief personal experience is filled out.by reports from others, one's insights are complemented by insights of others, and one's own judgments--what one has been believing from childhood or in school or in college or in university or in the press--are formed within the context of the judgments of others. These two sources of growth (personal acquisition and belief) are not in separate compartments; the two are inter-dependent, there is a symbiosis. Both begin from infahcy. But only through the second does the first take one b~yond the earliest prehistoric stages of human development. Only through the first:is there any real assimilation and appropri-ation of the second. From the cradling environment of the infant to the professor consulting the encyclopedia, our lives are filled with trust and eventually belief. Applying the Way from Above. to the Spiritual Exercises I began my .sssay with the Ti~omist pattern, from below upwards, as seen.iri the Second Week of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. It is a familiar pattern,, arid I need not go through it again. The application of the opposite order to the Spiritual Exercises, the process from above downwards, is, however, not so simple. 'A useful preliminary is to note a parallel between the secular and the religious, between day-to-day liv-ing and the world of revelation and faith. Here is Lonergan's position on this point. "What holds in general for self-under- 64.1 200Y Crowe ¯ Aquinas, Pascal, Lonergan, and the Spiritual Exercises Where the Second Week focuses on knowing and, therefore loving, the Third and Fourth Weel~s focus on communicqtion between persons already in lovei , standing in our world mediated by meaning and motivated by values holds also when that world is transfigured by God's self-revelation in Christ Jesus. The one revelation was made to many and thereby brought about a new type of commu-nity. For that community Christ prayed to his Father that 'they all be one.' It remains that a community is one not only by God's grace, but also by a consequent union of minds and hearts. Again, it remains that that consequent union can be troubled, disturbed, undergo an identity crisis; and the solu-tion to that crisis will be a common confession of faith."1° The present task, therefore, is to apply the process I have described to the Spiritual Exercises and to our Catholic spir-ituality. There are particular applica-tions, as when the rules for thinking with the church (§§352 -370) suppose the role of tradition. But what we seek here are applications within the heart of the Exercises, appli-cations built into their structure. We ask whether this contrasting position on knowledge and love is found there, either in the form given it by Pascal or in the Thomist knowledge by connaturality or in Lonergan's two ways of development. How do these ideas enter, if they do, into the Spiritual Exercises? My tentative answer is that they do enter the Exercises and in a way that considerably enhances our understanding of the Exercises. The Third and Fourth Weeks illustrate this most clearly. Where the Second Week focuses on knowing and therefore loving, the Third and Fourth Weeks focus on Review for Religious communication between persons already in love. That is, they presuppose love, love expressed in being with Christ, being with him in his suffering and being with him in his glorifica-tion. It is "being with" that matters. Whether we are with the Lord in his suffering or in his glory is secondary. What is pri-mary is that we are with him. Thus, although point six of the exercise on the Last Supper (§197) does not mention love, it is integral to love, a love that is grateful, a love that is a return of love. We are to ponder the way Christ suffers all these things on account of my sins (§ 197). The story is told of a mother who, on finishing her kitchen chores, went out to her child in its cradle on the verandah. She closed her eyes and sat there. There were loud voices next door, but she did not open her eyes t

Issue 57.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1998. ; religious Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JANUARY-FEBRUARY 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 1 Review for Religious is a forum for. shared reflection on the lived experience~ of all who find, that the church's rich heritages of gpirituality support their personal and apostolic ¯ Christian lives. The articles in ~he journal are meant to be informative, practical, historical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (1SSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the .Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: FOPPEMA@SLU.EDU Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1998 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) cbntained 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 perxnission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for r ligiou$ Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JANUARY-FEBRUARY 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 1 contents 34 48 leadership Congregational Leadership and Spirituality in the Postmodern Era Sandra M. Schneiders IHM offers an analysis of changing worldviews as an aid to understanding present-day religious congregations and exercising effective leadership in them. Leadership for the Common Good Donna J. Markham OP focuses on three areas of leadership skill development: conflict management, guarding against "groupthink," and promoting communal efficacious action. Hearts Afire: Leadership in the New Millennium Anne Munley IHM sees congregational leadership as being the work of impassioned hearts sharing, finding, and making meaning in concert with all the members, with a view to warm cooperation in endeavors of burning urgency. 60 67 tradition Stability: A Monastic Charism Retrieved Joel Rippinger OSB explores stability as a matter of heart and place in the light of contemporary rootedness. History's Role in Defining Spiritual Direction Steve R. Wigall proposes that contemporary spiritual direction needs to embrace openly its historical and theological variety. Review for Religious 77 88 prayer Today's Contemplative Prayer Forms: Are They Contemplation? Ernest E. Larkin OCarm takes a discerning look at contemporary personal prayer practice and terminology against the background of centuries-long traditions. Union with God according to John of the Cross Paul J. Bernadicou SJ describes some aspects of the sanjuanist process towards intimacy with God. departments 4 Prisms 94 Canonical Counsel: Life Consecrated by Profession of the Evangelical Counsels 100 Book Reviews Jant~aty-Februat~ 1998 I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the Giver of life. prisms 4 T citizens of the United States in recent years have been reinforcing a reputation for being a people that has lost its sense of the sanctity of human life. After a brief lull in the use of the death penalty for what is considered heinous crimes, more and more individual states have been seeking execution for serious crimes committed by both men and women. Then, when we look to the beginning of life, we find that abortion in the United States, even in late term, is justified through the most permissive legal understanding allowed by any Western nation. Finally, when we consider the possible end of life, assisted suicide for the elderly or for the chron-ically ill is already legal in one state and is being promoted by a number of people who defend what is euphemisti-cally called "mercy killing." As we come ~o the last years of this millennium, this most powerful, prosperous, and well-educated nation is sadly being identified as a people that readily "takes life." The year 1998 focuses upon the Holy Spirit in our Christian preparations for entering into the third millen-nium guided by the pastoral plan presented to us by Pope John Paul. Whatever the strength of our faith, the Holy Spirit is the Trinitarian Person most difficult for us to talk about, t9 imagine, and to relate to. Spirit, breath, wind, love, fire are words that in themselves have no face nor even a substance that can be grasped. And yet these are some of the common, traditional words applied to the One we call the Third Person of our Trinitarian God. We might, though, begin this second year of our preparations for the millennium by calling in prayer upon the Spirit by a name appropriate to the times in which we live. Review for Religious In the Nicene Creed we express our belief in the Person called the Holy Spirit, professing first that he is Lord God and then designating this Person as "the Giver of life." What a wonderful identity--Giver of life--especially in regard to a people earning a reputation as "takers of life." It seems obvious that a basic gift we seek from God in this year 1998 is a renewed reverence, respect, and appreciation for human life. Throughout this year, perhaps we all need an examination of conscience on behavior involving us as "takers of life." "Takers of life" can involve an attitude which sullies our approach to any part of God's creation--each part a gift from God. We can become so self-centered that everything--from the ecological environ-ment to the earth's resources to human life itself--is viewed in its value now for us. Takers of life know no gratitude, for life is not seen in terms of gifting but only in terms of getting, a disease of a consumer society. Let us pray that the Holy Spirit will inspire and guide our efforts to be, like God, gi,vers of life. The age-old prayer still speaks out our desire: "Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful." Review for Religious continues to have its own experience of life being given to us. New life continues to flow into our Advisory Board as some members finish their term of service, and new members join. We welcome Sister Kathryn Richards FSP, vice-provincial of the USA province of the Daughters of St. Paul and executive director of the twenty Pauline Book and Media Centers in the USA and English-speaking Canada. She is also the direc-tor of Paulinas Distribudora, the Daughters' Hispanic media dis-tribution center, and the director of the National Association of Pauline Cooperators, the lay collaborators of the Daughters of St. Paul. In addition we welcome Bishop Carlos Sevilla SJ, bishop of the diocese of Yakima, Washington. Bishop Sevilla serves as a member of the NCCB committees on Hispanic affairs and on religious life and ministry. Before his ordination as bishop, he had filled administration and formation roles in the Society of Jesus (California province). Farewells are always harder to express than welcomes. I want to express my appreciation to Father Edmundo Rodriguez SJ and to Sister Iris Ann Ledden $SND for their many contributions to the advisory board over the years of their service. We remain grateful for their continuing interest and support. David L. Fleming SJ January-Febr~,aot 1998 o o o o o o leadership SANDRA M. SCHNEIDERS Congregational Leadership and Spirituality in the Postmodern Era In addressing the issue of leadership in congregations which are increasingly influenced by the emergence of cultural postmodernism, I write not as one who is engaged in leadership or trained in the fields of organization and management, but as a theologian reflecting on the spiri-tuality of contemporary religious. But part of my prepa-ration for these reflections involved talking with a number of religious in leadership positions, asking them what were the major challenges they faced as leaders. One woman, by means of a highly symbolic vignette, epitomized what many others expressed. She said that, if one prepared an agenda for a meeting far enough ahead of time for the participants to come prepared, the first item on the agenda would be the revision of the agenda because the actual situation in the congregation would have changed so sig-nificantly that neither the items on the agenda nor their relative importance would be what they had been when the agenda was formulated. In other words, the challenges about which leaders talked were not so much specific problems but pandemic unpredictability and uncontrol-lability. While leaders face particular challenges because of Sandra M. Schneiders IHM presented this paper, here slightly revised, to the Leadership Conference of Woxnen Religious on 23 August 1997 in Rochester, New York. She is professor of New Testament Studies and Christian Spirituality at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley, where her address is JSTB; 1735 LeRoy Avenue; Berkeley, California 94709. Review for Religious their public role and more global responsibilities, the situation which makes leadership so difficult today is the same one all of us in religious life face, namely, the context of chaos within which we are trying to live religious life coherently and minister effectively. It is this peculiarly contemporary experience and its significance for spirituality that requires analysis and engagement. Whether or not we articulate it explicitly, we are always living, thinking, working within and out of some implicit worldview which defines both the problems and the potentialities of our historical situation.~ Until we come to some understanding of that world-view, we stand little chance of developing an operative spirituality. How we understand reality in general, religious life in particular, and our own congregation specifically determines what we think we are doing as religious leaders or followers. A worldview is like light or a pair of glasses. We do not notice its role in what and how we see until it flickers or gets cloudy. Furthermore, until relatively recently we were unaware of the plurality of worldviews because we thought that what we saw was simply what is, rather than what is visible through a particular set of lenses which not everyone in the world is wearing. Until the mid-sixties Catholics in general and religious in particular lived within a peculiarly schizophrenic worldview whose intrinsic con-tradictions seldom came clearly into view. Within the institution and culture of the cht~rch, we lived out of a medieval worldview in which society was organized according to an ontologically based, and therefore unchangeable, hierarchy of status and roles; in which all reality could and must be explained in the categories of an Aristotelian/Thomistic philosophy and the-ology; and in which the next world, and therefore religion, held a clear priority over the present world and its concerns. However, outside the church arena we lived out of a modern worldview in which democratic capitalism constructed an economically com-petitive society within a deceptive rhetoric of personal equality. The explanation of reality in this modern world was supplied by the confluence of the dualistic philosophy of Descartes, the mechanistic physics of Newton, the deterministic biology of Darwin, and the materia.listic hydraulics of Freudian psychology. The practical priority of this world over the afterlife was expressed in the banishing of religious concerns from public life to the pri-vate realm of family and church. Although these two worldviews, medieval and modern, were Januat3,-Februat~y 1998 Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirituality largely incompatible, what they had in common may be more sig-nificant for our present considerations than how they differed. Both of these worldviews presented chaos as the ultimate enemy and order as the ultimate good. It is hardly surprising, then, that we are uncomfortable to the point of panic amid the unpre-dictability and uncontrollability of so much of our experience today. And, the more people, property, and projects we are respon-sible for, the more threatening and even paralyzing widespread chaos in our domain of responsibility is likely to be. However, as cultural critics are increasingly convinced, the modern worldview itself is rapidly giving way to what is being called postmodernirm, a worldview that is still largely inchoate and unarticulated, but which is actually conditioning our experience more deeply and extensively than we can yet appreciate.2 Characteristic of this emerging worldview is what is being called the "new science" or quantum physics,3 which is not only calling into question the adequacy of Newtonian science to explain the natural or physical world, but implying the necessity for a new, cosmologically based philosophy that sees much deeper connec-tions between matter and spirit, between humans and the rest of reality, between this world and whatever transcends it.4 Implied in the collapse of the classical dualisms is ~i revisioning of chaos and order which may open up some possibilities for reinterpreting our present experience within religious life. Although I have been reading voraciously in the new science for a while, I do not claim to understand, much less be able to explain, quantum physics. What I want to do, however, is to use a few of its basic categories, namely, autopoietic structures, fields, and strange attractors, as metaphors for thinking about contem-porary experience in religious congregations. After exploring these categories from the new science in relation to religious life, I will try to make'some suggestions that are theologically sound, spir-itually vital, and culturally plausible about our current experience of religious life and leadership. Autopoietic Structures Margaret Wheatley, in her wonderfully provocative book Leadership and the New Science, brings together new ideas from biology, chemistry, and quantum physics which are analogous in suggesting that order and chaos are not contradictories, but that Review for Religious order emerges from chaos as from its matrix,s Furthermore, con-trol is not synonymous with order nor does it produce stability. Rather, control causes a deadly immobility or stasis which ulti-mately dooms the structure to disintegration. This phenomenon of the constructive relationship between chaos and order is characteristic of living organisms. Erich Jantsch, whom Wheatley cites, describes autopoiesis as "the characteristic of liv-ing systems [by which they] continu-ously renew themselves and., regulate this process in such a way that the integrity of their structure is main-tained.'' 6 In other words, living things maintain their integrity and identity not by eliminating change, but by continu-ous, dynamic interaction with their environment. It is equilibrium, not change, that is fatal! However, the history of religious life in the United States from the 19th century until Vatican II was character-ized by steadily increasing equilibrium and control and steadily decreasing interaction with the environment.7 After the chaotic pioneering days--when our founders and foundresses braved the rigors of frontier life using everything that came to hand, secular and profane included, to survive personally and institutionally-- American religious life settled into a rigidly defined and tightly controlled pattern within an increasingly battened-down eccle-siastical institution. Interchange with the environment was ever more stringently controlled and, to the extent possible, elimi-nated. We understood our congregations as Newtonian machine-like systems composed of virtually identical parts, operating according to established laws of motion codified in Rules and. customs books and functioning best when no part acted in orig-inal, that is, "singular" ways. Leaders functioned somewhat like factory managers maintaining strict control (erroneously seen as order) for the sake of spiritual and ministerial efficiency. Newtonian physics, which supplied this machine model for all systems, also gave us the laws of thermodynamics which gov-ern such systems. The second law of thermodynamics tells us that, when a system reaches equilibrium, entropy or disintegration We are uncomfortable to the point of panic amid the unpredictability and uncontrollability of so mucl of our experience today. Janllary-Februaty 1998 Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirituality sets in. We moderns learned that this law of increasing entropy or the inevitable wearing down of systems was also characteristic of living things (which we understood as basically very complicated machines) and certainly true of organizations such as religious congregations.8 What the new science is telling us is that social organizations are not entropic like machines, but more like living organisms, which are autopoietic, that is, self-renewing. The basis of autopoiesis or self-re-creation is the openness of organisms to their environment. As Wheatley says, Each structure has a unique identity, a clear boundary, yet it is merged with its environment . What we observe. ¯ in all living entities, are boundaries that both preserve us from and connect us to the infinite complexity of the out-side world. Autopoiesis, then, points to a different universe. Not the fragile, fragmented world we attempt to hold together, but a universe rich in processes that support growth and coherence, individuality and community.9 When we look at religious congregations of the 1950s, we see relatively hermetically sealed organizations operating accord-ing to the quantitative laws of mechanics. Numbers, material resources, institutional agencies of influence, and hierarchical control of all operations were the sources of efficiency. The cat-aclysm of Vatican II and its immediate predecessors in religious life such as the Sister Formation Movement suddenly opened these closed systems to their environment. New information of all kinds flooded the system. Sisters studied new disciplines in secu-lar as well as religious universities and interacted with a variety of people they formerly would never have encountered in any mean-ingful way. The mass media and the uncensored contents of libraries burst through the boundaries of the closed system. And then Vatican II called on congregations to reevaluate those old-world traditions which had so effectively kept religious out of the mainstream of American culture. Ministries changed dramatically and, with them, living situations. Contacts with other religious and with the laity, stringently rationed in previous times, broad-ened and deepened. In short, religious congregations suddenly drew deep breaths of fresh air and discovered that they were not ecclesiastical robots but sociospiritual organisms, living systems in vital interaction with their environment. Increasingly congregations, and their relatively uniform mem-bers, began to exhibit the characteristics of autopoietic structures. Review for Religious Perhaps the most unsettling characteristic is that a healthy liv-ing system is in a continuous state of disequilibrium. New infor-mation, constantly flowing into the system from the environment, challenges it to respond, to change, and to develop without loss of integrity or identity. There is no settling down, no way to call off the bombardment of the new and just be. There are no per-manently right answers, no one correct way to do things, no abso-lute authority. The organism is always off balance. Local chaos is the normal condition out of which global order is continuously being both threatened and resourced. Another characteristic of autopoietic structures, precisely because they are not in balance but precariously poised in the turbulence of a constantly changing ambiance, is that very small influences can have very significant effects on the system. In mechan-ical entities, significant change is usually proportionate to the mass of the influencing agents. Large groups, sizable funds, long-range plans are necessary to alter the status quo. But in a living system a small agent, for example, a virus, can have tremendous impact because it can galvanize the whole organism into response.'° The effect of one book like The Nun in the Modern World, or one speaker like Theresa Kane, is out of all proportion to the mass of the cause. One person generating negative energy can immobilize a whole assembly while one visionary chapter pro-posal can propel the whole congregation into self-renewal. A third feature of living systems is that they are programmed toward life. In this respect they are the very antithesis of the machine. Once entropy has set in, the machine inevitably and irreversibly winds down toward disintegration.11 But, even when very diminished, very endangered, the living system is mobilized toward self-renewal, toward regeneration. I think the merging of some small communities and the combining of facilities among others are examples of this salmonqike burst of upstream energy characteristic of open systems. Fourth, self-organizing systems'are bundles of competencies, "portfolios of skills," rather than collections of optimally func-tioning units,lz This feature has been ve.ry prominent in post-conciliar congregations. V~rhen individual religious or congregations decide that a particular institution or form of ministry no longer responds to the environment and they reconfigure competencies to meet new needs, it seems to me that they are manifesting an organic self-understanding, not, as some seem to think, a des- January-February 1998 Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirituality perate need to' find something useful to do until the corporate lights go out. Fifth, as Wheatley says, self-r~newing systems are "structures that seem capable of maintaining an identity while changing form. They exhibit "global stability" over time even as their subsystems undergo enormous, seemingly chaotic, change. I was struck by this feature of living systems when I first saw the Great Barrier Reef, the largest organism on earth. This enormous living sys-tem has a form that makes it so distinct from its oceanic envi-ronment that it is even recognizable from the moon, and yet every cell of its vast expanse is undergoing incessant change. Most reli-gious can remember the stupendous resistance to even minor, external changes in religious congregations on the eve of Vatican II. We could hardly conceive of a maintenance of identity through incessant change, and any attempt to engage the environment seemed like a sellout to secularity. But autopoietic structures main-tain their identity precisely by changing in response to environ-mental influence. Obviously not all living systems survive, much less thrive. What determines whether an organism will successfully negotiate what Wheatley calls the "bifurcation point" where the choice between death and transformation occurs? ~4 Wheatley maintains that the deciding factor is what she calls the principle of "self-ref-erence." Healthy organisms do not change randomly or in any and all directions. Rather, they change in ways that are both respon-sive to the environment arid consistent with their own already established identity. A firmly established identity makes the organ-ism both responsive and resilient, both dialogical and autonomous. Whereas a static system constructs external boundaries, fences designed to keep out the influence of the environment and hold the assemblage of units together, the healthy organism develops organic boundaries which make it increasingly autonomous in relation to external pressures even as it remains deeply involved in the ongoing process of iriterchange. Unlike a fence which sim-ply walls out the "other," the organic surface of the Great Barrier Reef is both a resource for relationship with the environment and a self-defining boundary. "Self-reference is what facilitates orderly change in turbulent environments.''~5 This raises directly the question of identity. If religious life itself, religious congregations, and individual religious are open, autopoietic systems whose incessant interaction with the envi- Review for Religious ronment is governed by the principle of self-reference, that is, fidelity to core identity in the midst of continual disequilibrium, what establishes that identity? How is it recognized and main-tained? Fields To begin to get some purchase on this issue, I want to intro-duce a second metaphor from the new science, the familiar but mysterious category of "field." Religious life has always involved the creation by some Christians, "religious virtuosi" in the ter-minology of sociologist Patricia Wittberg,'6 of an alternative "world" within which to live their faith, whether that was a sociologi-cal, geographical, or institutional reality construction.~7 The expres-sion so often used for entering reli-gious life, namely, "leaving the world," was a negative articulation of the positive act of choosing an alternative arena for one's life. Today, speaking of entering reli-gious life as "leaving the world" is so probleinatic as to be counterpro-ductive. Nevertheless, there is something about religious life which distinguishes it from other forms of life. It has an identity. Like the Great Barrier Reef, it stands out from its cultural and ecclesiastical environment even while being involved in continu-ous interchange with it. Perhaps a better metaphor or model for understanding the identity of religious life than the quasi-geo-graphical one of alternative world is the category of "fields." Science has made us aware that reality is composed not pri-marily of substances but of space. Space, however, is not empty. Rather, "space everywhere is now thought to be filled with fields, invisible, non-material structures that are the basic substance of the universe."ls Fields are invisible geometries structuring space, invisible media of connection bringing matter an&or energy into form. We cannot see fields any more than we can see space, but we can observe the effects of fields on that which comes within their influence. We have all seen this mysterious phenomenon in operation when iron filings come within the field of magnetic Perhaps a better metaphor or model for understanding the identity of religious life is the category of "fields." January-Februaty 1998 Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirituality influence and arrange themselves in certain patterns. Wheatley hypothesizes that personal and corporate space is also filled with fields, both positive and negative, and that, when the personal fields of the people in an organization intersect with the corpo-rate fields of the organization itself, certain predictable behav-iors are manifest. I find this metaphor very descriptive of a frequently experi-enced phenomenon, namely, that the same people behave very differently in situations which do not, exteriorly, differ notice-ably. Something "in the air" (or, perhaps more accurately, "in the space") affects them, for good or ill, and often everyone in the situation is similarly affected. We sometimes call it morale, or good or bad energy, or social climate. Sometimes we even speak of being "in good or bad space." We also know that an individual who is personally "in bad space" either can be pulled out of it by entering positive corporate space or can cause positive space to curdle. Social space, in our experience, seems to be really invisi-bly structured. Perhaps this metaphor of fields could help illuminate the issues of corporate and personal identity that religious have strug-gled with for years under the rubrics of "charism" and "vocation" and their intersection in the mysterious corporate identity prin-ciple called the "spirit of the congregation." Probably the only thing we have agreed on in regard to charism is that it is a mys-terious something that generates a certain recognizable congre-gational identity. Some have tried to equate it with the congregation's traditional ministry, or to identify it as a grace given to the foundress which was somehow passed on to later members, or to find it embodied in a characteristic spirituality. None of these explanations has proved very satisfactory, and all fail in relation to one or another congregation. Wheatley suggests that social fields are generated as people converse, share their visions and hopes, work out their problems, develop modes of interacting, participate in common projects, elaborate symbols and myths to articulate their shared identity and experience?9 In other words, groups create or generate fields. When coherent fields are generated in corporate space, people are drawn together; they begin to act in corporate ways. Eventually the group ethos can be recognized in the members. This sounds very much like what we mean by charism, an invis-ible structuring of corpor.ate space which manifests itself in the Review for Religious indefinable "something common" that is visible in the attitudes and behaviors of all the members. Furthermore, fields, once gen-erated, can outlast the individuals or groups that generated them. Perhaps what comes down through history from our foundations is not some work, set of rules, or uniform spirituality to which new members must conform, but a structured shared space that continues to give common form to ever new energy coming into the congregation in new members. When a new individual comes into this space, her own per-sonal fields intersect with the corporate fields of the congregation and the person is either drawn into and ener-gized by this cgrporate space or not. If vocation were understood as a certain constellation of overlapping fields in an individual personality's inner space, structuring that person's energy and behavior, her entering a congregation would involve the intersection of her personal vocational field with the fields of the particular congregation, especially its charism. Vocational discernment could be understood, then, as try-ing to discover if her personal fields and the congregation's corporate fields are mutually compatible and enriching or not. When the fields that structure the inner space of an individual (that is, her own voca-tion or life call) intersect creatively and har-moniously with the fields that structure the corporate space of a congregation (that is, its charism and other characteristic fea-tures), we often say that the person has "the spirit of the congre-gation." When the members of a congregation are together in "good space," they often feel "the spirit of the congregation." Perhaps what we mean by the spirit of the congregation is the global identity of the group as it manifests itself within the complex of fields that invisibly but really structures the personal into the cor-porate. 2° To use this field metaphor for understanding charism, voca-tion, and the spirit of the congregation does not reduce these realities to the purely natural any more than accounting for the universe by the theory of the "big bang" or for human emergence by evolution denies the divine role in creation. The metaphor simply offers us a more organic way of understanding the human When the members of a congregation are together in "good space," they often feel "the spirit of the congregation." Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirituality experience of stable and shared congregational identity in the midst of incessant change. It also provides a possible answer to the question about self-reference as the key to coherence for an open, autopoietic sys-tem experiencing continuous life-giving disequilibrium. In a sense, nothing observable in the congregation remains the same--type of ministry, horarium and content of spiritual exercises, commu-nity lifestyle, dress codes, financial practices, patterns ~of inter-acting-- but the field, the spirit of the congregation, in which all the change takes place can account for the ever new order which arises out of the seemingly chaotic pluralism and incessant vari-ation that characterize the community's day-to-day life over time. The Strange Attractor A third possibly illuminating metaphor, drawn from the new science, is that of the "strange attractor," a simple example of which many of us have seen as the computer screen saver of inces-santly changing lines and curves which maintain a moving form that is never repeated. Wheatley says this about the "strange attractor": Chaos theory has given us images of "strange attractors"-- computer pictures of swirling motion that trace the evolu-tion of a system. A system is defined as chaotic when it becomes impossible to know where it will be next. There is no predictability; the system never is in the same place twice. But as chaos theory shows, if we look at such a sys-tem long enough and with the perspective of time, it always demonstrates its inherent orderliness. The most chaotic of systems never goes beyond certain boundaries; it stays con-tained within a shape that we can recognize as the system's strange attractor . '~ This description seems very pertinent to the history of religious life, not to mention that of individual congregations. Religious life has undergone so much movement, so much deep-level change, that it is indeed impossible to know where it will be next. It is never in the same place twice. At times it seems to be in total disarray. And yet, over its nearly two-thousand-year history, it demonstrates a moving pattern which makes it recognizable, distinguishable against the background field of ecclesial life. What, we may ask, is the strange attractor of religious life? A strange attractor is a basin for the system's activity that Review for Religious pulls all activity within the system into a form or shape but with-out immobilizing the system or reducing its inner variety to pre-dictability. The strange attractor itself is not visible. It manifests itself by its power to allow a few simple "instructions," for exam-ple, equations, to repeat and intersect as they feed back upon themselves in an infinite variety of ways so that these iterations create analogous forms at finer and finer levels. These forms are what we call fractals, repetitions at various levels of scale that manifest the whole in each part. Our most homely example is probably a head of broccoli in which each flowerette, down to the tiniest, repeats the pattern of the whole head. But we can see it also in the computer image of lines and curves, or in the clouds, or in a branch of fern. VVheatley was moved to ask the question about the strange attractor when she observed that, in terminally dysfunctional sys-tems verging on collapse, where almost everyone had psycholog-ically abandoned ship and survival had become the only agenda, there were some individuals within the dysfunctional system who continued to be personally centered, creative, and productive. Amid corporate disintegration, personal order. She also observed--in healthy organizations which allowed maximum autonomy, even seeming chaos, at the local level--that the seem-ingly chaotic variety at the local level did not lead to disintegra-tion, but to a kind of global order and stability. Out of local chaos, global order. Somehow the creative individuals in the disinte-grating systems and the healthy organizations permitting high levels of local autonomy were pulled into coherence as if a strange attractor were at work. Her highly suggestive conclusion is that the strange attractor in both cases is meaning generated by a "frame of reference," that is, a coherent vision and pattern of val-ues, which gives direction to all the seemingly disparate activity. Meaning, vision, values, however, are formal categories. What vision, what values, what meaning might be the strange attractor of religious life that accounts for its self-identity and coherence, its fractal wholeness and beauty, through nearly two millennia of chaotic movement in an often dysfunctional church?22 More importantly, is the strange attractor still at work, still generating a recognizable lifeform today in what might be one of the most chaotic periods of development in the history of religious life? Are there a few "equations" that have iterated throughout these two millennia in thousands of different fractal realizations man- January-February 1998 Schneiders * Congregational Leadership and Spirituality ifesting the strange attractor that keeps this lifeform coherent and true to itself?. From the time of the lst-century virgins until it was pro-claimed anew by Vatican II, the basic principle, the fundamental "equation," has been that religious life is essentially gospel life. The pattern of the life has been the paschal mystery of Jesus Christ, perhaps the ultimate instance of order out of chaos, that is, life out of death. Of course, religious life shares this deter-mining equation with all Christian life. But religious life has also always been distinguished from lay Christian life by the particu-lar way religious have entered into the paschal mystery of Christ, by the specifically religious "equation," namely, by the life of con-secrated celibacy lived in community and mission. The strange attractor of religious life, then, may be a partic-ular kind of gospel-based relationship with Jesus Christ, expressed in freely chosen lifelong celibacy, lived in community and mis-sion, that has generated a lifeform which is distinct and recog-nizable despite enormous variety. It has reinvented itself endlessly, but from a distance and over time we can note the repeated pat-terns, its fractal wholeness. The effect of the strange attractor is a global stability and self-identity through incessant change, a particular and recognizable order out of chaos. Christian Spirituality and Congregational Leadership If these metaphors .drawn from the new science--that is, the congregation as an open and autopoietic system invisibly structured by the corporate fields that manifest in the spirit of the congre-gation within the shaping influence of the strange attractor of celi-bate living of the Gospel in community and mission--are illuminating of our current experience of religious life in our par-ticular congregations, we can ask what light they throw on the problematic of leadership. Does such a postmodern model of reli-gious life based on metaphors drawn from the new science suggest anything helpful in understanding what leadership in such sys-tems might mean today? Obviously, the image of the leader as manager whose task is to minimize disequilibrium by control of all personnel, policy, and practice is obsolete. But probably the image of the leader as the lone visionary who boldly imagines and projects goals to gal-vanize the membership toward the future is also obsolete. This is Review for Religious not because care of the community and corporate vision are not as important today as they have always been, but because we increasingly realize that they are the shared responsibility of the entire congregation.23 What is characteristic of the context of leadership today is that the kinds of systems over which leaders preside are situations which are not only uncontrollable in fact, but chaotic in principle. Chaos is the system's "steady state." Whatever leaders do today, it cannot be imagined realistically as merely the direction of reliable resources toward clearly perceived objec-tives. It has to have something to do with the creative potential of chaos itself. Even while managing the modern social systems that our congregations, at one level, certainly are, leaders are chal-lenged to engage the deep dynamics of meaning in the increasingly postmodern systems that we are becoming. It seems to me that religious life today is at the bifurcation point between death and transformation, between entropy and self-renewal, and therefore that the responsibility of leaders in relation to the deep dynamics of meaning has to do with the prin-ciple of self-reference which Wheatley identifies as the most impor-tant single determinant of self-renewal in autopoietic structures.24 The science of autopoietic systems suggests that, if the congre-gation (or religious life as a lifeform) is true to itself, in touch with and living out of its own identity, it will continue to renew itself even in the face of the massive material and ecclesiastical challenges of this historical period. If it is the case that the iden-tity of religious life lies in the celibate living of the gospel in com-munity and mission within the spirit of the particular congregation, we are at the heart of the issue. And the issue is faith. In what follows I am relying heavily on a remarkable 1995 study by a British theologian, Denys Turner, of the apophatic ele-ment in the Christian mystical tradition.2s In this book Turner is dealing with what I suspect is the most challenging issue for all of us in religious life today, but perhaps especially for those charged with the care of the community as a whole, namely, the mean-ing, reality, and integrity of Christian faith today. Religious life is fundamentally a faith reality, and the faith in question is not simply a generalized conviction that there is more to reality than meets the eye. Christian faith is both an unthe-matized openness to the ineffable Divine Mystery that has no name and a thematized participation in a particular religious tra- t--!-9- January-Februa~3~ 1998 Scisneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirituality 20 dition which believes that this Holy Mystery is both revealed and encountered in Jesus of Nazareth risen from the dead whose life is communicated to us in and through the gift of his Holy Spirit within the community called church. A major question today for Christians, including religious, and especially women, is whether these two aspects of faith, unthematized openness to Divine Mystery (which is not necessarily Christian) and thematic adher-ence to a particular religious tradition (namely, Christianity), are or need necessarily be related and, if they are related, how that can be personally experienced and authentically lived. Many postmodern Christians are caught in an experiential disjunction between their God-experience on the one hand and, on the other, their participation in the particular faith tradition, that is, the religion, within which they were initiated into that God-experience and which still claims to mediate it. In other words, there is an experienced disjunction between spirituality as lived faith experience and religion as articulated tradition. This may be partially due to the sudden (at least historically speaking) reversal of our evaluation of the role of experience in spirituality that coincided with the upheavals in religion of the conciliar era. Let me trace this development in broad strokes. For several centuries Christians were educated to discount feeling in the practice of religion in favor of a kind of blind faith and naked exercise of will. It was not the person who believed but the intellect; not the person who loved but the will. The body with its emotions was that which had to be overcome and sub-jected in order for the soul to seek God. This approach to the spiritual life, which effectively reduced spirituality to religious practice, was seriously challenged by at least three developments in the middle of this century. First, for all kinds of reasons that were psychological and cul-tural as well as theological, the radical wholeness of the human person began to resurface, and many believers began to reclaim the importance, perhaps even priority, of feeling in religious prac-tice. Retreat directors learned to ask people how they felt, not what they thought. Retreatants learned to be attentive to subjec-tive states of consolation .and desolation. Discernment began to take into account the person's felt response to alternative possi-bilities. Rather than considering felt religious experience unreli-able or even suspect, people began to consider it the touchstone, even the essence, of genuine spirituality. Desiring such experi- Review for Religious ence, seeking it, trusting it, living from it was no longer an aber-ration but the norm. Second, the feminist movement took hold among Catholic women, and its analysis of patriarchy enabled women to name and claim their experience of oppression in the church and to trace ecclesiastical sexism to its theological roots in Scripture and tradition. Women's experience of the Catholic religious tradition became laced with negative feeling just as they were learning that feeling was not irrelevant, but a valid and important indicator of the real. Many concluded that, if Catholic religion feels deeply alienating, Catholic spirituality may be highly suspect. Third, Catholics, for the first time, came into meaningful appreciative contact with non-Christian religious traditions where they encountered spiritualities that counteracted some of the very aspects of Christianity that were becoming increasingly problematic. The nature-affirming rituals of native American spirituality countered the overcerebral otherworldliness of traditional Catholic wor-ship. The nondualistic, nondogmatic meditation practices of Eastern mystical traditions offered an attractive alternative to the rationalistic and mechanical prayer practices of ordinary Catholic piety. Thus, at the very time that experience was becoming the touchstone of truth in the sphere of religion, both negative and positive experiences in the realm of spirituality converged to undermine adherence to the Roman Catholic Christian tradition. This has led some, perhaps many, religious to seriously question whether Catholic Christianity offers an adequate, much less a preferable, access to Holy Mystery or compelling motivation for ministry. For many the God of Christianity seems too small, too violent, and too male; the focus on Jesus Christ seems narrow and exclusive; the resurrection seems mythological if not incred-ible and, in any case, irrelevant to a world in anguish; the insti-tutional church seems hopelessly medieval, sexist, and clerical; liturgy is alienating; morality is out of touch with reality; and church ministry is a continual battle with male hostility and power There is an experienced disjunction between spirituality as lived faith experience and religion as articulated tradition. Januao~-FebruaO, 1998 Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirituality dynamics. Spirituality centered in personal experience was increas-ingly engrossing while religion, especially the Catholic religion, was increasingly alienating. After a certain amount of experimentation, many religious have settled into a kind of personal, often highly eclectic, spiri-tuality within the context of a nominal Christianity whose central tenets and practices are of little practical import in their lives. Their God may no longer be the God of Jesus Christ, but a non-personal, benevolent cosmic energy holding reality together in some mysterious way. Jesus may have been consigned to history as one of many prophetic figures whose memory remains moti-vating although they themselves are long dead. The Bible may no longer be, for them, revelatory or normative Scripture, but one religious classic among others. Christian sacraments may be quarries of symbolic elements which can be combined with anal-ogous elements from other traditions in the formulation of mean-ingful rituals. Prayer may be any practice from listening to music, to Zen sitting or Tai Chi, to hiking or massage which is calming and focusing and helps one keep a balance in a crazy world. In religious communities the effect of these developments in spirituality is profoundly disintegrative. It can no longer be taken for granted that the members share the same faith, a serious sit-uation for a lifeform which is based not only on faith but specif-ically on Christian faith. Members for whom Christian faith remains normative may hesitate to speak in explicitly Christian terms lest they be branded reactionary or dismissed as out of. touch with contemporary reality, while post-Christian or selec-tively Christian members may hesitate to voice their spirituality lest they shock their hearers or find themselves branded as heretics. Christian liturgical celebration at congregational events is sometimes so divisive as to be impossible. Nevertheless, wherever they are on the Christian map, reli-gious women continue to be resolutely religious, seeking God in disciplined spiritual practice, making retreats, engaging seriously in spiritual direction, reading widely and deeply in theology and spirituality, attending workshops and renewal programs. Those religious who have survived the postconciliar exodus and are still committed to both community and ministry are not indifferent to the God quest that brought them to religious life in the first place. This is the point at which the disjuncture between spirituality which is a matter of passionate concern and religion which is a Review for Religious locus of struggle and alienation is apparent; and, in my opinion, this may be the bifurcation point at which the choice between death and transformation is going to be made. We cannot afford to ignore this situation or pretend it does not really matter as long as people are sincere and committed. What is in jeopardy is not control but self-reference, the con-gregation's response to its strange attrac-tor, that is, to religious life itself as a faith reality. It seems to me that what many reli-gious are attempting is not to dispense with faith, but to find God in a kind of personal mystical quest that bypasses what are experienced as the superficiali-ties and hypocrisies, and even the vio-lence, of the official structures of institutional Catholic Christianity. In par-ticular, many are trying to find in the Christian mystical tradi-tion itself guidance for developing an apophatic or nonthematic contemplative spirituality that is experientially satisfying and moti-vating, but that bypasses the concreteness of the Christian cat-aphatic tradition with its specifically religious beliefs, liturgy, and practice. In short, it is an attempt to develop a spirituality with-out religion. Denys Turner wrote his treatise on the Christian mystical tradition, The Darkness of God, as a challenge to this contemporary development, which he calls spiritual "experientialism" and which he sees as widespread among Christians in general. Turner regards this experientialism as a kind of modernist positivism in the arena of spirituality. In other words, felt religious experience has become the "hard data" of authentic spirituality analogous to the observ-able results of laboratory experiments in modern science or the quantifiable data of sociological surveys. Personal experience has become the nonnegotiable criterion of validity in the arena of faith.26 The practice of contemplation, yielding direct experience of either the delightful presence or the painful absence of Holy Mystery, has become for many the sufficient, if mir~imal, structure, content, and dynamics of their spirituality, augmented perhaps by a symbolic and ritual eclecticism that draws from various reli-gious and nonreligious traditions. This experience of Holy Mystery is believed to be "apophatic," that is, unencumbered by What many religious are attempting is not to dispense with faith, but to develop a spirituality without religion. January-February 1998 Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirituality specific religious doctrines, images, symbols, liturgical traditions, and so on. Against this misguided turn to experience Turner maintains, with impressive support from the data of the tradition, that there is no such thing as "apophatic experience." This is a contradiction in terms. The experience of the absence of God is just as much an experience, that is, just as cataphatic, as is the experience of God's presence even though it might be less enjoyable. It is the quest for mystical experience itself, and especially reliance upon it as the touchstone of faith, which is the problem, Turner maintains. Furthermore, following Bernard McGinn, Turner points out that no one who is serious about the God quest, especially not the mys-tics (at least not until very recent times), attempts to "practice mys-ticism." People practice Christianity or Buddhism or Judaism.27 The mystical is a moment in the practice of these traditions, but there is no freestanding mysticism or pure apophatic practice. The development of this kind of experience-oriented, reli-giously decontextualized spirituality has been encouraged in recent years by a tendency in popular books on spirituality to talk of an apophatic and a cataphatic "way" as if there were two types of spirituality, one of which, the cataphatic, proceeds through the use of the theological symbols, images, rituals, and practices of a religious tradition and one of which, the apophatic, makes no use of these "externals" and reaches directly to the Divine Mystery that transcends all human institutions.28 Furthermore, there has been a tendency to suggest that these "ways" are a matter of per-sonal choice and so one might decide to bypass the cataphatic and plunge into the darkness of the apophatic way, where God would be met in pure spiritual nakedness. There has been much talk of foolproof methods by which to achieve mystical empti-ness and union, often without or before any serious ascetical train-ing, theological formation, or liturgical involvement. What Turner exposes is the basic fallacy of this whole "expe-rientialist" turn in spirituality. All spirituality, insofar as it can be practiced or pursued, is cataphatic, and all religious experience is by definition cataphatic. The apophatic is not a "way" or a "prac-tice," much less a kind of "experience." It is a moment of negativity, of nonexperience, at the heart of genuine, ordinary religious faith and practice. This moment is, by definition, not something one can experience at all. The apophatic or mystical is precisely the neg-ativity, the total darkness which cannot itself be seen or felt. It is Review for Religious the absence of experience, the "hole" at the heart of religious expe-rience, the place of the Holy Mystery Which is utterly beyond our experiencing, attainment, knowing, or naming. Mysticism is not negative (or positive) religious experience, says Turner, but the negativity of all religious experience.2Vlf I can experience it at all, it is not God in Godself that I am experiencing. If Turner is right, this attempt to bypass religious practice of the Christian tradition in search of some direct experience of the Holy Mystery is wrongheaded and futile, and it can end only in self-delusion of the kind pilloried by the author of The Cloud of Unknowing.3°Insofar as the apophatic moment occurs, it is abso-lutely nonexperienceable and hidden. And it occurs only within the cataphatic context of resolutely faithful Christian practice, which may at times overflow in the exaltation of spiritual peak experiences or generate the psychologically devastating suffering of the "dark night" described by John of the Cross. But, as all the mystics have maintained, such graces of light or darkness are neither the content nor the criterion of genuine spirituality. As Turner says, the deformations of the "experientialist" derive . . . from the error of understanding that which is a "moment" of reserve, of denial and unknowing within worship, prayer and sacrament as if it were a rival practice which displaces that Christian ordinariness. "Experientialism" in its most extreme forms is therefore the displacement of a sense of the negativity of all religious experience with the pursuit of some goal of achieving negative experiences.3~ In other words, a purely mystical spirituality is not a viable alternative to full participation in the religious tradition. The mystical, insofar as it is spiritually significant and transformative (as opposed to momentary experiences of oceanic bliss which may be caused by any number of stimuli from drugs to trance) is available only within some ongoing, ordinary, everyday cataphatic practice. The alternative to being imprisoned within the rigidities of an overmaterialized tradition is not the flight into a disembodied, decontextualized, and individualistic pseudomysticism. The deeply interior life of the serious postmodern Christian requires the shaping influence of a tradition worked out over centuries by saints and scholars, mystics and martyrs, even as the tradition itself requires the critical challenge of its postmodern adherents, whose new insights into reality must refine the tradition of its historical dross. 25 Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadersbip and Spirituality Let us return now to the framework of meaning that has sup-plied us with the important principle of self-reference. If the focus of self-reference of religious congregations and their members is the gospel-based celibate living of the paschal mystery of Jesus Christ in community and mission within the spirit of the partic-ular congregation, and if the self-renewal and continued flour-ishing of religious life and the particular congregation depend on this self-reference, then nothing is more important than the authenticity of the spirituality of religious. Obviously, people can form and live community and altruis-tically serve others without being either Christian or Catholic. And a religious congregation can certainly transform itself into such a community of life and service, leaving behind its specifically Catholic identity and affirming whatever religious affiliation, or lack thereof, its individual members espouse. That is, it can cease to be a religious congregation and continue as an intentional com-munity with or without religious roots?2 My concern is with con-gregations which have not, or not yet, made that choice, but are struggling to maintain their Catholic Christian identity in a highly dysfunctional ecclesiastical context. For such communities the quiet sidelining of Christian identity believed and practiced in the church is not compatible with their ongoing life and self-renewal as a religious congregation. And perhaps the most impor-tant task of leadership in such congregations is helping the congregation to negotiate the moment of bifurcation between congregational death through the abandonment of that identity and congregational transformation through the critical reappro-priation of its Christian identity. There can be no question, in a postmodern context, of deal-ing with this issue by fiat. The present state of spirituality in many religious congregations is highly chaotic, and attempting to abol-ish chaos by control is, as we have seen, the kiss of death. Hope lies not in the exercise of coercive power, but in the realization that the current disequilibrium is potentially far more creative than the kind of static uniformity that prevailed in the spiritual-ity of most preconciliar communities. But how do leaders facilitate the emergence of new spiritual order from religious chaos? The analogies from the new science suggest several possible leads. First, a climate has to be created in which divergent theological views and spiritual practices can rise to visibility and articulation and be seriously and respectfully Review for Religious engaged. The unspoken agreement not to talk about anything that could cause dissension and not to use any ritual with which someone might be uncomfortable--and to substitute therapeutic methods and organizational techniques for theological engage-ment with controversies in the area of faith--is analogous to main-taining tight managerial control in a dysfunctional organization. The upheaval in spirituality at the individual and local level needs to be articulated, recognized, and owned. Within it lies the poten-tial, not for a restoration of preconciliar uniformity of doctrine and practice, but for a self-renewing reclaiming of the tradition in very new, perhaps even startlingly new, forms. Any Christian!ty that can be relevant and life-giving in a postmodern context is simply not going to look like, or be like, the Catholicism of the Middle Ages or even of the 1950s. Second, the basic framework of meaning needs to be reartic-ulated, but in ways that take seriously the problems which have led to its practical collapse. This basic framework is the gospel in all its depth and breadth, and that means the theological and litur-gical, moral and socially transformative riches of the Christian tradition in dialogue with the postmodern culture emerging in our time. The Christian tradition that has become alienating for so many is not the gospel itself, but the moribund formulations of post-Tridentine Vatican institutionalism. The extraordinary response of so many, especially women religious, to the work of theologians like Elizabeth Johnson and Catherine LaCugna, bib-lical scholars like Carolyn Osiek and Elisabeth Schiissler Fiorenza, liturgists like Mary Catherine Hilkert, ecumenists like Rosemary Radford Ruether, moral theologians like Lisa Sowle Cahill, and scholars of spirituality like Constance FitzGerald and Joann Wolski Conn--along with the rediscovery of the Christian mys-tics themselves--suggests that the tradition has the potential to be reappropriated and renewed in feminist, ecological, and pluralis-tic patterns if the meeting between the postmodern religious and contemporary theology can be facilitated. A system converts local chaos to global order by the infusion of new information which can be appropriated within a coherent frame of reference. Access to theological resources and also deep engagement with the new science, feminist thought and practice, and ecological and social theory by all the members of a congregation would seem to be an absolute requirement for the development of an authentic post-modern Catholic Christian spirituality that would be adequate Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirit~tality for religious life in the 21st century. If religious develop such a spirituality, we can expect resistance from the official exercisers of institutional control. But, if religious fail to develop such a spir-ituality, we can expect religious congregations to disintegrate from within as their spirituality unravels and becomes a tangle of idiosyncratic and individualistic syncretisms. Third, the interaction between the whole and the parts has to be facilitated so that what is emerging in the spirituality of the members appears in a corporate spirituality that breaks the ver-bal and ritual silence at the global level and also transforms the global frame of reference itself so that it is not a religious strait-jacket but a flexible focus of self-reference. In preconciliar days. most communities had a repertoire of symbols, myths, celebra-tions, and ceremonies which integrated the spirituality of the individual members with the spirituality of the congregation. How can we experience this local-to-global articulation today? The order at the global level, which is not dogmatic uniformity but deep unity in shared faith and spirituality, can be authentic only if it emerges from the lived variety and ferment at the local level, among the individuals and groups that make up the community. In recent years some congregations have begun processes of getting religiously sensitive issues out on the table and seeking ways to bring theological resources into dialogue with personal religious experience in the context of open sharing of faith. This is very risky business. But in many cases it has resulted in unusual experiences of renewal of the spirit of the community. Perhaps, having negotiated so many of the more "external" issues of lifestyle and even ministry, many religious are eager, even if fearful, to engage the deeper issues of faith, religious identity, and spiritu-ality. Congregational leadership may be challenged today to take the initiative in helping the congregation address the fundamen-tal issue of Catholic faith and spirituality, that is, the issue of identity and self-reference. Conclusion Let me briefly summarize and conclude. What leadership means and how it is exercised depends essentially on how one understands the social system one is leading. I have tried to sug-gest that the quasi-mechanical modern model of the religious congregation is giving way to an organic postmodern model of Review for Religious community. I have explored a few features of this new model, namely, the conception of the community itself as an autopoietic or self-renewing organic structure; the category of fields as a way of un.derstanding the unifying forces of charism, vocation, and the spirit of the congregation; and the strange attractor as a way of understanding the quintessential role of the gospel lived in consecrated celibacy in community and mission as the principle of self-reference of religious life. I then tried to suggest that the role of leadership today may be neither primarily social maintenance nor ministerial goal set-ting, but the facilitation of the congregation's self-renewing pro-cess through attention to its core identity, its framework of meaning. This framework of meaning is not a uniform religiosity nor a particular type of ministry. It is Christian paschal spiritual-ity, rooted in the gospel of Jesus Christ, lived celibately in com-munity and mission, a spirituality which cannot bypass the Christian theological, liturgical, moral, and socially transforma-tive tradition within the believing community we call church. But in a postmodern context such spirituality cannot be leg-islated or enforced. Nor are leaders, in all probability, any less caught up in doubt, alienation, and theological-religious confusion than the other members of their congregations. What we ask of our leaders today is not that they supply us with the correct answers, or even that they pi6neer the road to the future, but that they mediate the creative interchange between local and global levels, helping us to own the real questions and search honestly, together, for appropriate responses, and thus facilitate the life-giving interaction between the religious congregation and the real world in which we live and minister. When Peter, that first leader of the Christian community, asked Jesus for a clear fix on church order and ministry by inquiring what role his apparent rival, the Beloved Disciple, was to have, Jesus replied, "That's not your problem. What you need to do is follow me," that is, become a beloved disciple and thereby become capable of the ministry to which you are called. Perhaps for all of us, leaders and followers, it is both that simple and that difficult. Notes ~ On this issue of the i~nportance of worldview and the character of the emerging worldview with which I am concerned in this paper, see the very provocative thesis of Danah Zohar in collaboration with I.N. Marshall, The Quantum Self." Human Nature and Consciousv~ess Defined by the Januao,-FebruaO, 1998 Scbneiders ¯ Congregational Leadership and Spirituality New Physics (New York: Quill/William Morrow, 1990), esp. pp. 231-237. 2 For a comprehensible introduction to the notion of postmodernity in the context of Christian faith, see James B. Miller, "The Emerging Postmodern World," in Postmodern Theology: Christian Faith in a Pluralist World, ed. Frederic B. Burnham (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1989), pp. 1-19, or Douglas C. Bowman, Beyond the Modern Mind: The Spiritual and Ethical Challenge of the Environmental Crisis (New York: Pilgrim Press, 1990). The SUNY Series in Constructive Postmodern Thought, edited by David Ray Griffin, and published in Albany, New York by the State University of New York Press, includes several volumes of essays repre-senting most of the preeminent writers attempting to relate Christianity and its concerns to the postmodern worldview. For a powerful presenta-tion of secular postmodernity, see Albert Borgmann, Crossing the Postmodern Divide (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992). 3 My primary resources in trying to understand this new approach to reality have been the following: Heinz Pagels, The Coswtic Code: Quantum Physics as the Language of Nature (New York: Bantam Books, 1983); David S. Toolan, "Praying in a Post-Einsteinian Universe," Cross Currents 46 (Winter 1996-1997): 437-470; Margaret J. Wheatley, Leadership and the New Science: Learning about Organization from an Orderly Universe (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 1992); Margaret J. Wheatley and Myron Kellner-Rogers,/t Simpler Way (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 1996); Danah Zohar in collaboration with I.N. Marshall, The Quantum Self: Human Nature and Consciousness Defined by the New Physics (New York: Quill/William Morrow, 1990). 4 Zohar, The Quantum Self, p. 234, speaks of the new worldview chal-lenging the modernist dualisms which split subject and object (mind and body), individual from relationships, and culture from nature. This is a slightly different focus on what I am talking about in more humanis-tic/ religious terms. 5 Specifically, Wheadey relies on the thought about living systems of Erich Jantsch, The Self-Organizing Universe (Oxford: Pergamon, 1980); the treatment of chemical reality of Ilya Prigogine and Isabelle Stengers, Order out of Chaos (New York: Bantam, 1984); the work of quantum physi-cists on strange attractors as explained by James Gleick in Chaos: Making a New Science (New York: Viking, 1987). 6 Cited in Wheatley, Leadership, p. 18. 7 Much of the following description of U.S. religious life from the 1800s until Vatican II is well illustrated in the volume, coauthored by a team of IHM sisters, Building Sisterhood: A Feminist History of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, ed. Margaret Susan Thompson (Syracuse: University Press, 1997). 8 It is interesting that sociological theory of organizations has .applied these Newtonian principles to social systems, leading theorists like Helen Rose E Ebaugh, in Women in the Vanishing Cloister: Organizational Decline in Catholic Religious Orders in the United States (New Brunswick, New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 1993), to confidently predict the immi- Review for Religious nent demise of religious life, not because the spirituality of religious has died, but because the organizations seem to have lost their niche in the social, economic, and occupational machinery. If I understand Wheatley's thesis, she is convinced that the mechanistic understanding of organiza-tions that underlies much organizational and management theory is inap-propriate to the kind of entity such organizations are. I think Wheatley's thesis is applicable to religious life in general and religious congrega-tions in particular. 9Wheatley, Leadership, pp. 18-19. 10 Wheattey, Leadership, pp. 95-96, treats this feature. ~' When I hear religious wearily predicting the demise of their con-gregations as simply inevitable since decline in one or more areas seems to have set in and, in the long run, decline cannot be arrested or reversed, I am struck by the mechanistic character of their image of religious con-gregations. ,2 Wheatley, Leadership, p. 93. 13 Wheatley, Leadership, p. 90, italics mine. 14 Before reading Wheatley, who uses this very expression, "death or transformation," in relation to living organisms, I was looking at this same phenomenon in religious life in terms of the mystical tradition, the "bifurcation point" represented by the "dark night." See Sandra M. Schneiders, "Contemporary Religious Life: Death or Transformation?" Cross Currents 46 (Winter 1996-1997): 510-535. is Wheatley, Leadership, p. 94. 16 See Patricia Wittberg, Pathways to Re-Creating Religious Communities (New York/Mahwah: Paulist, 1996), pp. 19-31, for her very enlighten-ing treatment of the sociological category of the "religious virtuoso" as a descriptive of religious. Peter Brown, in The Body and Society: Men, Women and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), p. 58, refers to the lst- and 2nd-century virgins, the original religious, as "virtuoso practitioners of continence." 17 In the earliest period of church life, the choice of lifelong virgin-ity created an alternative to the sociological givens of society in the 1st century of the Christian era. In the 3rd and 4th centuries, the desert ascetics moved geographically out of the overacculturated church of late antiquity. In the Middle Ages cenobitic monasticism was an institutional alternative to life in the cities. The "leaving the world" motif continued in the closed lifestyles of apostolic religious congregations right up to Vatican II. 18 Wheatley, Leadership, p. 48. 19 See esp. Wheatley, Leadership, pp. 52-54. 201 think this dynamic metaphor fnight have some potential for dis-cussions of the issues of belonging and membership. For example, if every individual is a distinct constellation of overlapping and intersecting fields (family, personal friends, professional associations, ministerial involve-ments, and so forth) which structure her personal identity and which 3I Janua~y-Febt'uaty 1998 . 32 Scbneiders * Congregational Leadership and Spirituality intersect with the fields of other members and the corporate constellation of fields of the congregation, we have to expect that ways of belonging and participating in community life are going to be very diverse and that this need not lead to disintegration. Likewise, there may be significant but not determining intersection between the field of some person and the congregational field,, leading to a considerable sense of"belonging" on the part of this person who, nev-ertheless, does not feel called to become a member in the full sense of the word. 2, Wheatley, Leadership, pp. 20-21. 22 The amount of chaos within religious life and the sometimes over-whelmingly dysfunctional character of the ecclesiastical settings in which the life survived and even thrived over the centuries is strikingly chron-icled by Jo Ann Kay McNamara in Sisters in Arms: Catholic Nuns through Two Millennia (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996). 23 1 do not mean to suggest that leadership does not play a special role in maintenance and mission. In fact, I suspect leadership in these arenas is even more important today than it was in the recent past when eccle-siastical control dictated virtually all major decisions about mission and stable financial procedures and reliable resources assured maintenance. I want to suggest, however, that these functions, although facilitated by leadership, are largely handled by specialists or by congregational struc-tures that do not depend exclusively on leaders. 24 Wheatley, Leadership, p. 146: "More than any other science prin-ciple I've encountered, self-reference strikes me as the most important. ¯ . . As an operating principle, it decisively separates living organisms from machines." 2s Denys Turner, The Darkness of God: Negativity in Christian MystMsm (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). 26 Turner, Darkness of God, p. 262. Turner says (p. 259): "Experientialism is. the 'positivism' of Christian spirituality. It abhors the experiential vacuum of the apophatic, rushing to fill it with the plenum of the psychologistic." 27 Turner, Darkness of God, pp. 260-261; he cites Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of VVestern Christian MystMsm, Vol. 1 (New York: Crossroad, 1992), p. xvi. Turner does not actually agree with McGinn about the role of experience in mysticism, but he does agree with him that, until the present century, tnysticism was not isolated from religious traditions but an element within the,n. 2s Mthough there is much of value in Diarmuid O'Murchu's latest book, Quantum Theology (New York: Crossroad, 1997), I have serious hesitations about his facile dismissal of .religion as a dispensable human invention (see esp. pp. 7-12). He is right to point out the distinction between spirituality, religion, and theology, but I doubt that the direct leap from spirituality to theology is possible because, while the categories of theology can be enriched by science, I doubt that they can be supplied Review for Religious without recourse to sacred texts and liturgical ritual. It is indeed part of the function of theology to purify religion of its excesses; but it is also part of the function of religious tradition to criticize theology. 29 Turner, Darkness of God, p. 259. 3o See the caustic description in chaps. 52-53 of The Cloud of Unknowing (The Classics of \Vestern Spirituality), ed. James Walsh (New York/Ramsey/Toronto: Paulist Press, 1981), pp. 220-223. 3t Turner, Darkness of God, p. 259. 3: In speaking of religious congregations, I am using the term theo-logically and not canonically. I am talking about the faith reality that constitutes religious life, not juridical requirements ofany particular period in history. Tropical Night Watch (Cap Haitien, Haiti) The current is cut, the light fails, generators die, sleep prevails. Wakened by silence, I stagger onto the gallery, stumble over stars, so many stars the sky overflows, the Milky Way spilt and star running all down the dome. Does someone, I wonder, watch with me, or do I alone gorge on the glory? Two a.m. an ungodly hour?-- with this luxury of light? this starry sight? I gape, I gape, at this godly night. Mary Alban Bouchard CSJ Januasy-February 1998 DONNA J. MARKHAM Leadership for the Common Good Only a few achieve the colossal task of holding together, without being torn asunder, the clarity of their vision along-side an ability to take their place in a materialistic world. They are the modern heroes . --Irene Claremont de Castillejo Knowing VVoman: A Feminine Psychology AnY person who is called upon to lead today is also called to the heroic act of unifying and healing in the midst of a world that is increasingly fragmented by nationalism and regional separatism. Nor are religious leaders unaffected: denom-inational sectarianism and ideological divisions threaten to take a mortal toll on the community of believers. At the same time, we live in an exciting era, alive in the midst of an enormous shifting in the collective experience of our planet. Insights from world religions, the new sciences, and feminist consciousness are con-tinually shaping our responses to the suffering oppressed. Religious leaders want to unify their members in order to meet the various challenges effectively, but the personal and communal risks are great. Women religious leaders find themselves engaging in heroic action as they contend with complex and differing perspectives on Christology and spirituality and on what constitutes the core Donna J. Markham OP is CEO for Southdown, a center for Christian healing that serves clergy and religious. Her article, published in Origins 27 (I 3 November 1997), is a slightly edited version of her address to the annual assembly of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, held in Rochester, New York, in August 1997. Her address is Southdown; 1335 St. John's Sideroad East; RR #2, Aurora, Ontario; Canada L4G 3G8. Review for Relig4ous identity of religious life in this emerging global reality. Those who are entrusted for a time with the exciting task of fostering greater union and community are also expected to keep in front of our eyes the gospel-illuminated vision to which we have all committed ourselves. Irene Claremont de Castillejo rightly asserts that those who strive to accomplish such things are, indeed, mod-ern heroes. We actually have modern-day heroes--who have called us to common ground, who have invited us to envision a new way of being dwellers on earth, who have risked opening dif-ficult conversations and bringing forth serious critiques as new insights and truths are searched out. Within our midst are, I believe, unobtrusive modern heroines. The thoughts I share come from one who is clearly not a philosopher or a theologian, but rather a student of human behav-ior who has herself been stretched and challenged by a loving God. I share these thoughts as one who has experienced a call to profound conversion in the midst of the awesome responsibility of being entrusted with leading. I share these thoughts as one who, lost in deserts of confusion, has called out in fear; one who, with her sisters, has called upon a God of mystery, wisdom, and hope to show some clarity or meaning in daunting, sometimes terrifying, situations pregnant with disharmony and division. I hope to propose some specific skills for leaders to use in their efforts regarding the good we hold in common. Before doing that, however, I note two perspectives on the meaning of the com-mon good and offer a summation of our own experience of the past ten years. Perspectives on the Common Good There are two principal perspectives about how to achieve the good of society. The prevalent one, perhaps, is that the aggre-gate of individuals all pursuing their own self-interest constitutes the most good for the greatest number. This individualistic and utilitarian view--from John Locke, Adam Smith, and John Stuart Mill--emphasizes the common good as a composite of individual goods. It wants the civil authority to keep out of people's affairs except to ensure that no one tramples on another's rights. The second perspective, in the Thomistic tradition, emphasizes the common good as a social good that all must.participate in if the good of the whole is to be achieved (Hollenbach, 1989, pp. 85ff). January-February 1998 Markham ¯ Leadership for the Common Good Maritain elucidated this by speaking of a "personalistic commu-nitarianism" in which individuals achieve their own good more fully and readily when, in relationship with others, they work to enhance the common good. History has demonstrated, especially over the past two cen-turies, that two extremes of governance must be avoided: a lais-sez- faire individualistic philosophy that heralds each person in There is an increasing plurality of expression regarding personal spirituality and one's relationship with God. society as completely autonomous and indepen-dent, and a socialistic collectivism in which the individual sacrifices everything for the society, even to the loss of self-actualization. Within these polarities there exists a tension for each of us: to want each individual member in our community to be fulfilled and to flourish and to want our religious institutes to unleash their communal passion and energy in service of the mission of Jesus. After a long history of reflecting a more col-lectivist model, with the needs of individuals heavily subordinated to the needs of the larger community, religious life has, I think, swerved toward the Lockean-Smithian libertarian notion of the common good. Leadership itself has, at times, colluded in this--unconsciously, I think. We saw this reflected in some of our early documents after the call to renewal: the individual member was noted as our primary asset and first concern. While this concern was certainly not intended to subordinate the communal mission, experience has shown that this interrelationship has remained a serious issue for us, and we find ourselves seeking ways to lead well in the midst of escalating diversity of thought and belief. Experiences, Insights, and Questions What I say about the experience of leaders over this past decade is by no means exhaustive; I simply offer my own obser-vations: ¯ Women religious have a far stronger sense of internalized personal identity and individual maturity than previously. We also seek clarity concerning what constitutes corporate, com-munal identity .and what the requisites for membership are. Review for Religious ¯ We have witnessed a growing diversification of ministries, in which members are far more able to use their individual cre-ativity and talents in service of the gospel. ¯ We have deepened our sense of inner authority and self-direct-edness, yet we struggle with how this relates to any congre-gational ministerial focus and communal accountability. ¯ There is an increasing plurality of expression regarding per-sonal spirituality and one's relationship with God. ¯ There is a clear movement away from structures and systems that are oppressive and demeaning to women, and a deliber-ate movement toward systems that address the needs of the poor, the oppressed, and the abandoned. ¯ We have deepened our understanding of feminism in relation to our church and our world. ¯ We see an escalation of profound questioning, with conse-quences for our communal life as members of our institutes, not to mention our life as dwellers on this planet. ¯ As leaders we continue to experience the pervasive tension between our pastoral responsibility with its consequent care-giving obligations, and the possibilities of vision-driven, spirit-linking, heart-stirring leadership. ¯ We continue to examine models of leadership, modes of par-ticipation and decision making, and forms of governance that are faithful to our commitment as gospel-driven women. ¯ We live within the growing complexity of all the institutions and systems in which we minister. ¯ And we have witnessed the common good being held hostage, at times, by malaise and a depletion of communal passion. We have seen the common good compromised by leaders who have become overly preoccupied with the torment of a trou-bled individual and have diverted their attention from the broader work of leadership, with its potential to accomplish major transformations. We have witnessed the common good being co-opted by leaders who have become frightened and paralyzed in the face of an articulate few whose sociocultural precommitments distract them and others from gospel faith, the living water of religious life. At times we have also seen leaders--perhaps in misdirected efforts to affirm individu-als- fail to critique emergent societal, religious, and cultural movements as these impact on the common good of the con-gregation. 'L37 . 1998 Markham ¯ Leadership for the Common Good 3-8A So what is it that we have learned from what we have experi-enced? We have intensified our conviction that pluralism and diversity must work in tandem with a binding sense of identity and relationality. We know that interdependence is imperative for our survival as a planet, as nations, as a church, and as religious institutes. It is clear that all living systems are characterized by net-works of relationships. We are aware, more than ever, that all things are somehow connected and have an impact on one another for good or bad. Consequently, we know that various necessary and desirable boundaries need to be permeable enough for bond-ing with other communities and the global community to be pos-sible. We have learned, too, that neither hieratic leadership models nor totally consensual models are effective in this time of rampant change, greater complexity, and anxiety-provoking ambiguity, and we search for new ways to express leadership and exercise author-ity. We have learned that neither the subordination of individu-als to the needs of the community nor the subordination of the common good to the needs of individual members will make for a viable future. We have learned that new expressions of com-munity are being called for, whereby persons exercise true inter-dependence, participation, and responsibility about matters pertaining to the well-being of all those involved. We know that, if we are to do this, we need to develop skill in managing conflict and diversity. We have embraced even more deeply our need for ongoing contemplative reflection and conversation about mat-ters of the heart and soul. And we have learned with some trepi-dation that, insofar as profound doubt about the meaning and validity of our founding myths pervades our communities, we flirt with division and dissolution. Given all this, we are faced with serious questions. At what point does diversity within our institutes lead to entropy and orga-nizational dissolution? How will we work with our differences so that the result is synergy rather than division? How can we, with our members, become more intently engaged in the promotion of a personal communitarianism which recognizes that each per-son's dignity is most fully achieved in communion with others? What can we do as committed women of the gospel to help heal the gender and ideological rifts within our church, the racial and economic rifts in our country? What deliberate and concerted actions should we be taking as communities of faith to address Review for Religious materialistic individualism and the exploitation and mutilation of creation? How will we inspire others to that end? What signs will identify the better emergent models of leadership? In an effort to shed some light on these questions, I will focus on three areas of skill development: conflict management, guard-ing against "groupthink," and promoting communal efficacious action. By no means the only skills needed, these three call for some special attention today. Skills by themselves are, of course, not enough; but a leadership team's understanding of the princi-ples behind them can help keep the congregation moving for-ward while holding open the possibility of true synergy emerging. By synergy I mean the energy-laden, unexpected accord--or com-munion- within a group that gives it momentum toward the good which it esteems in common. Comfortable and Adept in Handling Conflict Perhaps more than any other skill, religious leaders today need the ability to manage conflict well. This prevents group-think from setting in and supports communal efficacious action. While we all know that some conflict is normal in any human relationship and an important part of the interaction in any vital group, much of what I say about managing conflict will seem counterintuitive. It flies in the face of our upbringing and our instinctive responses to confrontation. Most of us probably employ two basic responses to conflictual situations. Either we shy away from them, taking no action or procrastinating in the hope that the problem will go away, or we engage in symmetrical inter-change, being defensive or aggressive toward one another, prob-ably debating to a standoff. With the first strategy we quickly learn that the denial of the possibility of conflict is an easy way of becoming involved in one. With the second strategy we find our-selves caught in dualistic thinking that categorizes others as either with us or against us; we draw the proverbial line in the sand, and some become self-righteous winners and others demoralized losers. To use a third strategy, that is, to act counterintuitively, we anticipate and deliberately move toward that which is feared in efforts to establish connection. VCe meet conflict proactively or, in the wonderful words of William Shakespeare, we "meet the first beginnings; look to the budding mischief/before it has time to [-~9-- January-February 1998 Markham ¯ Leadership for the Common Good Where debate aims at convincing and winning, dialogue is a commitment to listen and learn from one another. ripen to ,naturity." We anticipate conflict and confrontation and approach the other with the clear, well-articulated intent to dia-logue. In so doing we open the possibility of engaging in a kind of ecological relationship building, a way of working through erroneous assumptions about and resistance to one another. We do not engage in debate, but rather in dialogue that has been pre-pared for with rigorous study, prayer, and reflection. Where debate aims at convincing and winning, dialogue is a commitment to lis-ten and learn from one another. Debate encour-ages dogmatic rigidity and judgment; dialogue encourages the search for insight and truth. If all parties have not prepared for the conversation by disciplined and intensive study, prayer, and reflec-tion, we are not ready to dialogue. Dialogue means that, while we are open to lis-tening and learning, we. also know that there are certain issues about which a group cannot com-promise. These include identity, internal consis-tency, and core values. A group ceases to exist as itself when these constitutive elements are com-promised. For example, leaders of religious congregations have a fundamental fiduciary obligation to promote the unity of the con-gregation. They canr~ot compromise those founding values and principles which have endured over ti,ne and which constitute the community's identity, charism, and mythic history. On the other hand, conversation and dialogue around the contentporary meaning of communal identity--no matter how divergent our understand-ings may bemis of critical importance and should not be shied away from in spurious hopes that differences will disappear. Still, to entertain that the fundamental identity of the group is open for negotiation is to promote disunity, disintegration, and ultimate demise. Membership in the group has become meaningless. A few examples: One can be a part of a group called "psy-chologists" and struggle with reformulations and new constructs relative to the study of personality and behavior. But to assert that the study of personality and behavior is no longer relevant to the discipline of psychology is to move oneself outside the iden-tity of being a psychologist. Similarly, Dominicans can struggle with how to enflesh the mandate of the order to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ in today's world, or how they will name and address contemporary heresies, but they cannot say that they will Review for Religious replace the gospel of Jesus Christ as a foundation for that preach-ing mission with some other construct. To do so would be to move outside the identity of being Dominican. Likewise, when an indi-vidual experiences a loss of identity, that person moves into a state of confusion and terror. In the most dramatic sense of this phe-nomenon, the psychotic person has little or no awareness of who she is, what she is to be doing, or what meaning there is to her very existence. This is why the therapist, as an agent of responsive and responsible authority, must take swift action to protect her from further disintegration and potential self-destruction. Good leaders take clear and directed action to protect the solidarity of the group, its commitment to unity in the face of challenges to its founding purpose, its identity and mission. They do so by calling the group to reflection, prayer, and respectful dialogue. They, with the group, walk toward what is feared and claim their truth in faith and in commitment to the greater good. Leaders in this era of connection (Lipman-Blumen, pp. 8-21) live in the midst of ongoing diversity. Accordingly, they also live in the midst of the conflicts which arise from this diversity of insight and thought. Successful handling of these conflicts demands certain assumptions: that all are committed to learn from one another and to search for truth together; that they agree to carry out the conversation to its conclusion; that they respect one another; and that no party will resort to oppressive or vindictive strategies during or after the conversation. Leaders who succeed possess an internal disposition of grace, flexibility, balance, empa-thy, courage, creativity, and a heavy dose of curiosity about the dif-ferent and unusual. But even these qualities are insufficient if leaders are frightened or unclear about or uncommitted to what constitutes the identity of the group which they have been called to serve. A time may come when evasion or avoidance--or a direct naming of the futility of carrying a discussion any further--may actually be a worthwhile move. The problem has often been that we have resorted to these moves before working proactively with the conflictual situation. Guarding against Groupthink One way, of course, of avoiding conflict within a close work group is for all to adopt patterns of thinking that are so "agree- Janttal.3,-FebtvtaD, 1998 Markham ¯ Leadership for the Common Good able" that disagreement becomes unthinkable: it would be "dis-loyalty." But "agreement," then, is an ambiguous thing. The greater the ambiguity, the more likely it is that a leadership group has fallen into the groupthink that some analysts describe. This dangerous dynamic arises when, in the face of adversity or perceived danger, a cohesive "ingroup" (here, the leadership team) insulates itself from conflict with the "outgroup" (here, the other members). It does this by concurrence seeking and unques-tioning agreeableness among the ingroup members. Groupthink interferes with leadership's ability to act on behalf of the com-mon good because it has closed off alternative courses of action. It falls into a tight-knit, closed system in which team members avoid deviating from consensus. The ingroup thus shares an illu-sion of unanimity concerning most of its judgments and posi-tions. In the worst scenario, certain members of the ingroup unwittingly assume the role of "mindguards" who protect the leader and other ingroup members from adverse information that might break their sense of well-being about their past decisions. Groupthink can result from a largely unconscious effort on the part of a leadership group to fortify itself, in ambiguous and con-flictual times, against perceived threats from the outgroup. It is characterized by the ingroup's feeling a certain invulnerability and having exaggerated optimism about the future. Negative feed-back has been dismissed by rationalizing, by stereotyping the behavior of members who disagree as invalid, irrelevant, erro-neous, disloyal, or uninformed. The search for truth has thus been compromised not only in the leadership group but also throughout the community, because sincere engagement between the ingroup and the outgroup has been aborted. W-hen diversity of thought has been stifled within a leadership group, stagnation, boredom, and a certain brittleness, set in. This situation comes from a misunderstanding of consensus, but it often masquerades as a nonhieratic, more feminist model of managing disagreement and arriving at decisions. Groupthink is serious and should not be underestimated. Group analysis has shown that the membership of any large group reflects the deficiencies of its leaders. V~rhen diversity of opinion, conflict, and serious dialogue find little or no room for expression in the leadership group, the membership will unconsciously mir-ror the leadership or react strongly to it, in either case jeopar-dizing the common good. Review for Religious In order to counter the unconscious pull toward groupthink, leadership teams may wish to set up safeguards. They could, for example, devise ways of getting critical evaluations of decisions and actions (including evaluations from outside the leadership team); they could, before coming to agreement, probe for alternatives; they could seek and happily come up with more than one way of addressing a given issue; they could broaden the decision-making base by consulting persons from different disciplines and areas of expertise; they could, after a period of time apart, hold a sec-ond- chance session to readdress the issue; they could simply ask whether there is "too much unanimity." Promoting Efficacious Communal Action Leadership teams that manage conflict well and avoid group-think instill in their communities the belief that it is indeed pos-sible for something important and significant to come from concerted communal action directed toward the greater good (Bandura, 1997). On the other hand, if a community has little sense that it is making a difference as a group, it will experience organizational anxiety, corporate depression, and a growing fear of the future and it will not attract new members. Leaders who work well with conflict and promote the unity of the group through a clear commitment to pursuing the truth together make a difference in this world of ours. Their fearless-ness and passion in repeatedly calling the group to fidelity to its mission have an impact. If all else is equal, a group that is more unified and clear about its identity and mission will endure beyond one that is fragmented. In other words, integration and unifica-tion contribute to life; disintegration and fragmentation, to demise. We know well that our desire to flourish is not an end in itself. Rather, we choose life as members of religious institutes because we are committed to radical discipleship. We commit ourselves to a vowed life in community in order to make a differ-ence-- for the poor, the oppressed, the vulnerable, and the aban-doned in our world. We believe we can do this better because we are united as sisters, and so we invite others to walk with us. We do this not simply to bolster our sense of well-being, but because we believe desperately in the mission of Jesus to promote justice and right relationships among people, between people and their Januaty-Februa~y 1998 Markham ¯ Leadersh~ for the Common Good God, and among all the various peoples that dwell upon this planet. We know that this work is not finished. We invite others to join us in this connective mission of pursuing what is true, what is just, what is merciful, and what ultimately is the One who unites us all. Most of our congregations have identified issues which they see as critical to the common good of our society today. In meet-ing with communities across North America, I have noted a remarkable consensus on the critical issues calling for our response as women religious. Through chapter acts, vision statements, and communal goals, concerns about the environment, racism, the poor and oppressed, spirituality, and women's needs and oppor-tunities continue to surface. These concerns, besides inviting our deep compassion, recall us to our commitment to live the gospel as wholeheartedly as we can. I watched in awe as the NASA scientists shared the excite-ment of accomplishing something awesome. This team of women and men was jubilant that their Martian dreams, their hard work, their collaboration gave us earthlings a chance to see another world. They were passionate, and millions of us on the Internet shared their passion as we took in the unfolding events. Why, then--though our dreams and efforts on behalf of the oppressed and abandoned bring successes and are no less altruistic than those of NASA scientists--do we seem not to have such excitement and passion about our corporate accomplishments, either just among ourselves or in the eyes of others? I found myself pon-dering this question with a tinge of sadness as I watched the ongo-ing televised press briefings. We want to make a difference in our mission. We want to see something come of all our hard work. We want to know that we are participating in something that makes a tangible difference in our world. We long for excitement and passion regarding our work. When a group has a sense of nothing much coming from a colossal effort, it gets discouraged. Negative corporate conse-quences follow: heightened individualism, attrition of member-ship, loss of momentum, corporate sluggishness. While many of us individually experience satisfaction in know-ing that we are addressing those compelling needs identified through our chapter processes, I wonder if we are depriving our-selves of the possibility of magnanimous corporate accomplish-ment. I wonder if the aggregate of our individual good works has Review for Religious buried in oblivion our ability to do something passionately, and concretely, together. What might it mean for us if we were to spec-ify concretely what we will do together as a congregation--or per-haps all of our congregations in concert--by way of making a passionate and grand contribution to this Mother Earth of ours, especially the neediest causes on it? I realize that, as soon as we entertain thoughts of concerted and clearly defined com-munal endeavors, we may conjure up our worst memories of the past. The urgency of the needs of these times, however, demands that we let go of that history and allow the fire of a revived corporate passion to brighten our eyes and our vision as we look toward the future of the life and labor for which God called us together, and keeps calling us. We have dedication and commitment and a vision and a mission that are at least as broad and deep as the NASA team has. We are attuned to needs that make the Martian endeavor look small and childlike. Oppression and exploita-tion are no strangers to us. The exploitation of our planet, of the abandoned, of women and children, is daily being resisted by wonderful women religious all over this continent and beyond. But now is a time for us to come together, in ways we have never imagined, to make an even greater difference for the good of our world's people. We join with John Paul II in seeing ecological concern as a driving force in the communal mission to which we are called: The earth is ultimately a common heritage, the fruits of which are for the benefit of all . It is manifestly unjust that a privileged few should continue to accumulate excess goods, squandering available resources, while masses of people are living in conditions of misery at the very lowest level of sub-sistence. Today the dramatic threat of ecological breakdown is teaching us the extent to which greed and selfishness-- both individual and collective--are contrary to the order of creation, an order which is characterized by mutual interde-pendence . Simplicity., moderation, and discipline, as well as a spirit of sacrifice, must become part of everyday life, lest all suf-fer the negative consequences of the careless habits of a We commit OldYselves to a vowed life in community in order to make a difference-- for the poor, the oppressed, the vulnerable, and the abandoned in our world. Januao~Feb~wa~y 1998 Markham * Leadershi~for the Common Good few . An education in ecological responsibility is urgent; responsibility for oneself, for others, and for the earth . (John Paul II, 1990) Engaging in this efficacious action on behalf of the common good calls each of us to a deeper expression of our personal value and meaning and makes it available for the well-being of one another. To lead on behalf of the common good is as exciting as it is heroic. To stay centered on the ultimate vision of unity; to manage conflict in service of what is true, faithful, and just; to stand committed to the unfolding meaning of our identity in mis-sion-- these things are the substance of leaders who invite con-version and the linking of spirits and hearts at a time when not to do so is, all too probably, to toy with death. Steering Clear of Resistance Temptations to let oneself be drawn away from the demands of such a ministry of spirit-linking leadership abound. To allow oneself to be caught up in efforts directed toward problem persons and a minimal status quo is to entrench oneself and one's con-gregation in a futile defensiveness. Recognizing the difference between getting caught up in crisis management and working with the crisis in order to promote the common good is an art form that requires continual attention and development. In the process we must guard against a certain emotional and behavioral passivity that lulls us into a tolerance of diversity without restraint. Individual efforts and accomplishments should not crowd out the larger vision of a community's contemporary identity in mis-sion. When community leaders sideline or postpone or limit a unified group response to the crying needs of God's people and God's world, when leaders give too much attention to individual members (to their preferences, their convenience, even their per-sonal gratification) or fail to set limits on behaviors that stand in the way of the greater good, then something is wrong. Any group, of course, has maintenance tasks that need atten-tion. But how much time and energy should those entrusted with leadership today spend on those tasks? Honest self-evaluation of the use of team time is an important reality test for a leadership group. Such a group needs continual creative redesign so as to become or remain free to lead and not just manage. Beyond merely managing or even merely leading, I ask con- Rev&w for Religious gregational leaders to call one another and to call our communi-ties to heroism. Call us to risk entering into conflictual conver-sations that hold promise of connecting us in trust and in hope to one another. Lead us into the midst of difficult dialogues that will bring us into deeper and more respectful relationship with all who long for a church, a society, and a world in which communion in spirit and in truth prevails. Risk calling us to concrete corpo-rate ministerial responses. Invite us to be passionate. Help us to face together the different, the other, the frightening, and the unexpected so that we may discover ever more deeply that the good which we hold in common is nothing less than participa-tion in the compassionate goodness and mystery of God. Bibliography Bandura, A. "Human Agency: The Emperor Does Have Clothes." Canadian Psychological Association Convention, Keynote Address, June 1997. Bellah, R., et al. The Good Society. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1991. Claremont de Castillejo, I. Knowing Woman:/t Feminine Psychology. Harper Colophon Books, 1974. Hollenbach, D. "The Common Good Revisited." Theological Studies 50, no. I (1989), pp. 70-94. Hollenbach, D. "The Catholic University and the Common Good." Current Issues in Higher Education 16, no. 1 (1995). John Paul II. "Peace with God the Creator, Peace with All of Creation." Papal statement, 1 January 1990. Lipman-Blumen, J. The Connective Edge: Leading in an Interdependent World. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1996. Rivers, E The Way of the Owk Succeeding with lntegv-i~y in a Conflicted World. HarperSanFrancisco, 1996. Roszak, T., M.E. Gomes, and A.D Kanner, eds. Ecopsychology: Restoring the Earth, Healing the Mind. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1995. Tracy, D. Plurality and Ambiguity: Hermeneutics, Religion, Hope. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1987. Whyte, D. The Heart/1roused: Poetry and the Preset'ration of the Soul in Corporate America. New York: Doubleday Currency, 1994. Wren, J.T., ed. The Leader's Companion: Insights on Leadership through the Ages. New York: Free Press, 1995. Janttary-Feb~'uary 1998 thNv N E MUNLEY Hearts Afire: Leadership in the New Millennium I love you, God, with a penny ~natch of love that I strike when the big and bullying dark of need chases my startled sunset over the hills and in the walls of my house small terrors move.~ ~edeeSSica Powers's image, "a penny match of love," is a won-rful imag~e o.f human desire for God that yearns" to be stronger, that yearns to ignite hearts, capture imaginations, shape dreams, and awaken possibilities. There is nothing paltry about God's gifts. God longs to kindle our penny matches of love into a growing fire as we gather here, more than a thousand strong, representing ninety-four percent of the women religious of the United States. It is a precious gift to be alive and to be called to leadership as one millennium ends and another begins. The last decades of the 20th century have been a time of cataclysmic change. The coming of the third millennium is certain to prompt diverse mus-ings about the challenges of this moment in history. Some, lament-ing present evils, will forecast doom. Others will gloss over substantive issues of dignity and justice to focus on the bizarre. Still others, including ourselves, will view the millennium as a kairos time for renewing hearts and transforlning society. Anne Munley IHM presented this paper, here edited and somewhat short-ened, as the presidential address to the August 1997 national assembly, in Rochester, New York, of the Leadership Conference of V¢o~nen Religious. She may be addressed at the I.H.M. Center; 2300 Adams Avenue; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18509. Review for Religious The year 2000 presents the world with an extraordinary occa-sion to commemorate-the birth of Christ as an historical fact and as a saving event for humanity for all times. The new millennium is an invitation to renewed wonder at the lavishness of a God who so loved the world that Jesus, the Christ, took on human flesh that all might become alive in God. We are called to leadership in a time when humanity yearns for connection with God, with one another, and with all creation. Yet we are acutely aware that we live in a world of violence, envi-ronmental desecration, economic polarization, racism, poverty, systemic oppression, and cultural breakdown. Our senses are bur-dened with images of human suffering in the homes, streets, vil-lages, neighborhoods, suburbs, and cities of this nation and throughout the world. In this age of globalization, when the peo-ples of the world are linked together as never before by commu-nication, economic interdependence, and the diffusion of cultural values, gaps continue to grow between rich and poor. Most peo-ple would agree that beneath obvious contemporary problems lie a crisis of the spirit and an erosion of concern for the common good. There is little sense that all the peoples of the earth are brothers and sisters having a common destiny in one global fam-ily created by the God of infinite love and compassion, but such a sense is what is needed." Inside the walls of our house, "the bul-lying dark of need" aches to see flames of love and moral com-mitment, aches for a revolution of the human heart and a resurgence of spiritual leadership. There are many signs of hope for this moment: conscious-ness that there is a crisis, desire for practical life-giving solutions, hunger for meaning, purpose, and direction and a longing for connectedness. The biblical concept of jubilee offers a revolu-tionary vision of reform for these times. The call to jubilee rec-ognizes the sanctity of time, the sacredness of creation, the importance of rest and contemplation, the equality of all in the eyes of God, the need to attend to the common good and the jus-tice of right relationships. The biblical jubilee calls for forgiveness, reconciliation, and joy, not ju.st an inner joy but a jubilation that is expressed in communal celebration) In proclaiming a new covenant of unity among peoples, Jesus brought the jubilee promise to life. We lead in a time of soul-stretching possibility. It is a holy time for "bringing good news to the afflicted, liberty to captives, January-Februaly 1998 Munley . Hearts Afire sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed." One of the greatest gifts that leaders can bring to this age is a sense of hope that transformation is possible. This gift is a penny match of love that can ignite great fires. Scientists tell us that tiny movements can have a huge cumulative impact on vast systems.4 Spiritual seekers discovered this truth long ago. In the words of Kukei, an 8th-century Zen master: "A hand moves, and the fire's whirling takes different shapes . All things change when we do."SMore than anything else these times need leaders who can bring to the outer world the transforming spirit of the inner world. Spiritual Leadership Recent literature about leadership reflects growing awareness that spirituality sustains community, meaning, and hope. The titles of many of these works suggest a shift toward conscious-ness of the inner life: Leading with Soul, The Corporate Mystic, The Heart .4roused, The Soul of Politics, and "Leading from Within.''6 The message of Leading ~vitb Soul is that leadership is a jour-ney of the heart. Heart, hope, faith, compassion, and courage are essential to leadership, to the creation of communities of mean-ing, and to a rediscovery of the ethical and spiritual center of society. Corporate mystics are spiritual leaders who are comfort-able with their own spirituality and who nurture the spiritual development of others. Corporate mystics call forth the best in themselves and others; they operate with integrity and intuition and pursue their visions with passion and compassion. In The Heart/1roused, the poet David Whyte links the inner world of spirit and creativity to the preservation of the soul in corporate America. Whyte knows well that leadership from within involves far more than techniques, plans, goals, or strategies. In his latest book of poetry, The House of Bdonging, he urges us to remember:7 What you can plan is too small for you to live. To be human is to become visible while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others. Re'view for Religious Jim Wallace in The Soul of Politics and Parker Palmer in his essay "Leading from Within" emphasize responsibility for co-creating the world we live in by bringing to it the best of our spiritual traditions and convictions. Our spiritual traditions tell us that we are not victims of the world as it is, but are its co-cre-ators. Borrowing from Annie Dillard,s Palmer says that, unless leaders are willing to take the spiritual journey inward and down-ward, we are likely to project what we hate in ourselves onto other people because we fear to face the enemy in our own souls. Great leaders have the courage to face their shadow side and consciously choose to project a spirit of light. Our own experiences on the inner journey and as women religious committed to co-creation of a just and loving world are a valuable part of our call to lead-ership within our communities. Gift of a Heart Afire At this national assembly of ours in outstate New York, I recall the determination and incredible belief in possibility of the hand-ful of women who organized in 1848 the Seneca Falls Convention that lit a fire to change the legal and political position of women in the United States. Using various means to secure suffrage for women, leaders like Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Lucretia Mott, Susan B. Anthony, Lucy Stone, and Carrie Chapman Cart drew on their inner fire to breathe spirit and passion into their quest for reform. Women like Mice Paul, Lucy Burns, and Rose Winslow must have drawn deeply on their inner strength as they endured impris-onment, hunger strikes, and forced feedings. I recall also the countless women from all ethnic, class, and racial backgrounds who addressed severe social problems at the end of the last century and the early decades of this one. I recall the inner fire, faith, and vision that sustained the founding and pioneer members of our congregations, enabling them to over-come great obstacles. In the depths of their hearts they realized that, for those who love, the impossible becomes possible. I am conscious of the millions of people who daily confront abuses of human rights and work for change. I am conscious of all of the women religious throughout the world who, with listening hearts and eyes focused on today's fierce urgencies and spiritual hungers, continue to imagine alternate possibilities as they struggle toward the reality of God's reign in the immediate circumstances of daily January-February 1998 Munley . Hearts Afire life. I am conscious of the collective spiritual energy in this room and of the force that it is for the life of the world. Understood in its broadest sense, spirituality includes more than the inner life. It is, in the words of the theologian Anne Carr, "the whole of one's spiritual or religious experience, one's beliefs, convictions, and patterns of thought, one's emotions and behavior in respect to what is ultimate, or to God.''9 As women of faith and conviction, the greatest resource we can bring to the new millennium is the spiritual leadership of a heart afire. Spiritual leadership rooted in the gospel involves working for a transformed understanding of the good life as life that is profoundly good for all. When the heart is on fire, light comes from within. With the "eyes of the enlightened heart," we can see the hope to which we are called (Ep 1:18). By baptism and the mystery of vocation we have proclaimed publicly that the quest for God and the new creation is the fire of our lives. Our world longs for visible expressions of God's saving presence and for new ways of seeing that are graces of the inner experi-ence of God's love. In the Christian tradition seeing with the eyes of the heart occurs on the journey of discipleship. Discipleship is not an easy journey. It is an ongoing effort to live the gospel with integrity--trying, sometimes succeeding, often failing, recognizing the need of being forgiven and then trying again. It is a way of being in the world that affects every relationship. Disciples shape one another according to the action of the Spirit in their lives. The energy of the disciple flows from faith in what_is unseen yet believed. At its root, discipleship is a call to a love that never gives up on God, one's neighbor, or oneself. Disciples are called to love well., as Jesus did, with hope, truth, fidelity, and compassion. This leads inevitably to taking a stand with the Christ of the paschal mystery, who willingly laid down his life in love so that all may have life in abundance. In these times, spiritual leadership rooted in the gospel involves working for a transformed understanding of the good life as life that is profoundly good. for all. Such transformation will happen in our communities and in the world around us when Review for Religious precepts of compassion and justice inspire the collective soul and have an impact on behavior. All around us and among us there are compelling stories of discipleship. As leaders we need to see them with the eyes of the heart. In the sharing of the stories, heart touches heart and souls are filled with the spirit that makes ongoing commitment possible. Meaning-Making Spiritual leaders empower their communities for ongoing commitment by keeping questions of meaning before them: Why are we together in community? How are we called to the unique circumstances of these times? What is our commitment to one another and to those with whom we journey? In times of sub-stantive change there is an extraordinary need to explore ques-tions of meaning and purpose. In the midst of chaos, a coherent worldview and a dynamic understanding of the relevance of reli-gious life are helps toward interpreting the signs of the times and living discipleship with integrity. Leaders can make an enor-mous contribution to this process by helping the other members to make sense of shifting fealties both outside religious !ife and within it. At the deepest level, our congregations are held together by myths, values, beliefs, and foundational stories. These are the roots of the congregation's identity and purpose. They constitute the why of our being together as communities. They have their effect on the passion with which we live our mission. They influ-ence the way we use resources, the way we work together to press the mission forward. The shared meaning and work and mem-ory of our lives together provide symbols, relationships, and prin-ciples for making sense of the changes going on within us and around us. Shared meaning is essential for shared commitment. At a time of rapid social change and shifting demographics and resources, spiritual leadership is not about getting people to do something. It is about helping the group to keep before itself the kind of meaning that will guide choices and call forth com-mitment.~° Spiritual leadership is a group process rather than an individual's personal qualities or skills. It is interactive and rela-tional. When members of a community are closely involved in piecing shared meanings together as a basis for corporate action or direction, they experience significance together, discovery together, leadership together. Today, as many congregations grap- pie with issues of governance and restructuring, it is a key func-tion of leadership to foster meaning-making together. The more things change around us and within us, the more important it will be to create connections for exploring the pos-sibilities that change and newness offer. As Margaret Wheatley notes, "Life invites us to create not only the forms but even the process of discovery.''l~ The kind of effort that we put into mean-ing- making will affect the credibility of our way of life as well as our own sense of authenticity and integrity. Integrity and Justice In

The Mercury November, 1909 HELP THOSE WHO HELP US. The Intercollegiate Bureau of Academic Costume. Cotrell & Leonard, ALBANY, N. Y. Mak^« °f CAPS AND GOWNS To Gettysburg College, Lafayette, Lehigh, Dickinson, State College, Univ. of PeMi -ylvania, Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Wellesley, Bryn Mawr and the others. Class Contracts a Specialty. Correct Hoods of Degrees To The Class of '10. We have begun our college campaign for next Spring and Summer. Over 25,000 employers look to Hapgoods for their men in sales, offices and technical positions in all departments. Most of these Arms use college men. They arrange with us to cover the en ire college world for them. We have a unique preposition of in mediate interest to any college man who will be open for a propo-sition. Let us tell you about it. Write to-day. TXL _,_^ _j c^ 17^ ,-~ " TIM JVJtTJOJVJJ, ORGJJYMZJITtOJV Of HfipGrOQEltB, BMUMM- BUOHMUBS. Commonwealth Trust Building, Philadelphia, Pa. HOTEL GETTYSBURG, Headquarters for BANQUETS. Electric Lights, Steam Heat, All Conveniences. Free Bus to and from station. Convenient for Commencement Visitors. RATES $2.00 PER DAY. -/i/very G-ttaartea. B. B. Cqwoll, Proprietor. All our drugs aud chemicals are sold to you under a positive guarantee, pure and full strength. H. C. LANDAU, DRUGGIST. EVERYTHING A FIRST CLASS Drug Store should have Opposite Eagle Hotel. lfm0Vmmt*f^mt^mftlwt^n GETTYSBURG COLLEGE Gettysburg, Pa. - LIBRARY - I WE RECOMMEND THESE FIRMS. Established 18S7 by Allen Walton. ALLEN K. WALTON, Pres. and Treas. ROBT. J. WALTON, Supt. HUMMELSTOWN BROWN STONE COMPANY QUARRYMEN and Manufacturers of BUILDING STONE, SAWED FLAGGING and TILE. Waltonville, Duphin Co., Pa. CONTRACTORS FOR ALL KINDS OF CUT STONE WORK Telegraph and Express Address, Brownstone, Pa. Parties visiting quarries will leave cars at Brownstone Station on the P. & R. R. R. For Artistic Photographs —GO TO— TIPTON The Leader in PHOTO FASHIONS Frames and Passapartouts Made to Order. D. J. REILE, Clothing, Gent's Furnishings Sole Agent for the CRAWFORD SHOES, 13-15 Ohambersburg St. Come and Have a Good Shave or Hair Cut —AT— HARRY B. SEFTON'S BARBER SHOP 35 Baltimore St. Barber's Supplies a Specialty. Also choice line of Cigars. R. E. ZINN & BRO. DEALERS IN Groceries and Choice Provisions. Carlisle St., Gettysburg. THE GETTYSBURG DEPARTMENT STORE Successors to the L. M. Alleman Hardware Co., Manufacturer's Agent and Jobber of ' HARDWARE, OILS, PAINTS AND QUEENSWARE, GETTYSBURG, PA. The only Jobbing House in Adams County. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. * 2 a, ft ft * « « » » *w ft *« a * * «« ft * ft ft .-■> a» * « Seligniqq ARE GETTYSBURG'S MOST RELIABLE TAILORS And show their appreciation of your patronage by giving you full value for your money, and closest attention to the wants of every customer. Give Them a « »»« *««* » « ft Your Patronage * « *»« » a »« »a * » «» ft ** ft »« « « ft «««»« * « ft « e» ft « ** »« « «« «« « ft * » « ft »* PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. A Special Proposition Is open for the first person ID any com-munity who will deal with us for a Piano or Organ. WEAVER ORGANS AND PIANOS have no question mark to the quality. I IIII I .__ _ _ Z WEAVER ORGAN AND PIANO CO., MANUFACTURERS, I YORK, PA , U S A. MAIL THIS COUPON TO US. Send me special proposition for the purchase of a Piano. Name Address m * .-I-. •I" •■!•■ T\ •*■ ± Students' Headquarters —FOR— HATS, SHOES, AND GENT'S FURNISHINGS. Sole Agent for WALK -OVER SHOES ECKERT'S STORE. Prices Always Right He Lutheran PubliGatiori Society No. 1424 Arch Street, PHILADELPHIA, PA. Acknowledged Headquarters for anything and everything in the way of Books for Churches, Colleges, Families and Schools, and literature for Sunday Schools. PLEASE REMEMBER That by sending your orders to us you help build up and develop one of the church in-stitutions with pecuniary ad-vantage to yourself. Address HENRY 8. BONER, Supt. THE [UIERCORV The Literary Journal of Gettysburg College. VOL. XVII GETTYSBURG, PA., NOVEMBER, 1909 No. 6 CONTENTS. THE WBONG OP WASTE 2 DAVID M. CRIST, '10. FEESCOING A LOST ART 3 ELMER STOUFFER, '11. A HALLOWE'EN STOEY 7 SAMUEL BOWER, '10. THE VOTEE'S DOMINANT PBINCIPLES: WHAT THEY SHOULD BE 12 ROT V. DERR, '10. IS GEEMANY A MENACE TO THE WORLD'S PEACE? 15 C. M. ALLABACH, '11. A NAEEOW ESCAPE 16 R. L. MCNALLY, '13. THE "BACK HOME" BOY 20 EDWIN C. MORROW, '12. THE EVOLUTION OP THE BEAST 22 EDWARD N. FRYE, '10. THE SPIEIT OP THE PLACE 24 HARVEY S. HOSHOUR, '10. EDITORIALS '. 29 EXCHANGES 31 GETTYSBURG COLLEGE Gettysburg, Pa. | - LIBRARY - I THE MERCURY. THE WRONG OF WASTE. DAVID M. CRIST, '10. jO the contemplative mind one of the saddest things in the world is the waste that is going on, and has gone on ever since civilization dawned. Much of this waste is wretched, needless, wicked; it means human efforts thrown away; it is one form of homicide for it sacrifices life and the material that life thrives on, and thus it hampers progress. What does a grain of corn amount to? Nothing, we hear the wasteful man say. Yet the secretary of agriculture of Missouri computes that one grain on every ear of corn grown in his State alone would add one hundred thousand dollars to the wealth of the State each year. We have all been told what a large sum the saving of a few cents a day will amount to, if allowed to roll up for a period of years, yet we all go through life really unmindful of the possi-bilities there are in such little things. A Kansas statistician has recently figured that the men of that State are constantly wearing on their coat sleeves eighty thousand dollars worth of buttons which serve no earthly use. It is easy enough, of course, to over do economy and make it ridiculous, and it is often most difficult to say whether a given policy is wasteful or economical. In this country our railroads work their locomotives very hard, and wear them out in a few years, whereas in England locomotives are used very carefully, and are kept in service several times as long. The English blame our railroads for being wasteful in this, whereas our au-thorities hold that it is better to get the best wear out of any ma-chine in a reasonable time, and then scrap-heap it, and replace it with something newer and better. Large scale producers such as the Carnegie Steel Company of Pittsburg, have owed their success in no small degree to their lavish expenditures, or industrial experiments, and for the in-stallation of new machinery as soon as its superiority to that in use has been demonstrated. So ideas to what is waste will differ. Unquestionably we are wasting our coal, oil, natural gas, and THE MERCURY. 6 timber supplies in this country, but under the conditions it does not pay to husband these material resources. A few years ago the world became alarmed because its fuel supply seemed to be coming to an end. Now, we are harnessing the rivers, water-falls, and even the glaciers, and making them do much of the work that coal hitherto has done. There is no small doubt that before the coal supply is ex-hausted the world will be so completely electrified that the use of coal will have become obsolete. The waste of timber is more serious, and yet as lumber rises in price other materials will be developed to take its place, witness the present rapid introduc-tion of concrete for building purposes. This country would not be what it is if it had been developed UDcler such a saving policy as has necessarily dominated the rise of European nations, so it would be well for us to remember the words of Benjamin Franklin when he said: "What maintains one vice would bring up two children. Eemember many a little makes a nickle. and farther, beware of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship." FRESCOING A LOST ART. ELMER STOUFFER, '11. EW people realize that the frescos which they see on the walls of buildings are the remnants of a once great art. An art which for the number of men who were engaged at it and scope of application never had an equal. The history of this great form of art is long and of itself interesting to read. It is not the purpose in this article to give the history beyond what is necessary to the illustration of the subject in hand. It shall be our purpose to discuss the art as we know it, and the methods of the frescoer of to-day. It is claimed by many that the art of frescoing was known to the ancient Egyptians, but this is doubtful. If they knew any-thing at all about it, it could not have been more than enough THE MERCURY. •to cover the walls of their houses with the crudest and coarsest kinds of earth colors mixed with water. True one can find buildings decorated in patterns which are supposed to be genu-ine reproductions of ideas found on the walls of Egyptian ruins, but the methods of getting these actual designs are never told. The whole is fanciful and not certain enough to receive much consideration. The Greeks were familiar with the art of fres-coing but the extent to which they developed the art is uncer-tain. The excavations of Schlieman have brought forth some old decorated pieces of walls which were thought to be frescoes, but careful examination has shown them to be mere earth colors applied in various designs. The Hebrews it is certain knew nothing of frescoing. It was not until the beginning of the Christian era that the art rose to its fullest development. The Christian artist wanted an art which would properly express the emotions. The stirring scenes of the early Christian times were the subjects for the •church decorator to work upon. The art which he would use must be able to express faith, hope, joy, sorrow, grief, pain and things of that nature. Sculpture, the art of the Greeks, would not answer his purpose for that is essentially an art of repose. Frescoing seemed the only one capable of answering his purposes so he employed it. Even then the early decorator was held in check by ecclesiastical interference. In decorating the churches he was not permitted, even though he had the impulse, to use any type not traditional. For this reason we find nearly all the fres-coes of this period consist of the gaunt, pinched bodies of an-chorites and saints. In the sixteenth century this art reached its highest state of development. In this period some of the world's most famous frescoers lived, and some of the most noted frescoers were executed. Several of the works produced in this period are extant to this day. The wave of Iconoclast fanaticism which swept over Europe in the sixteenth century struck the art a blow from which it has never wholly recovered. In England nearly all the paintings were destroyed. In some churches they were merely defaced, hut in those churches where the frescoes could not be destroyed without permanently injuring the buildings, the despoilers cov- THE MERCURY. «red them up with lime. On the continent of Europe the hatred was not so intense, and it is doubtful whether any works of real value were destroyed. It is true, however, that when the Icono-clastic wave had swept away, the art was practically dead. In America very little is known about frescoing. Our near-est approach to it are the distemper paintings with which we decorate our theatres and churches. Several reasons might be mentioned for this, but the most reasonable seems to be that Americans are too impatient to apply themselves to a trade in which the first and chief requisite is painstaking precision. The Americans as a class are too much in a hurry to take the time which it is necessary to do a good work of frescoing. The aver-age American does not care what a piece of work costs but he invariably does want his work done at once. So little interest is taken in the art in America that not one color manufacturer is to be found who so much as manufacture the kind of color which mural decorators use. The American decorator must depend upon the shops of Germany for the colors which he uses. German workshops also supply America with her supply of deco-rators. Frescoing as clone in former times required a great deal more skill than it does to-day. The work was all done while the plaster was still soft. The decorator decided in the morning just about how much surface he wished to cover that day. The plasterer, who worked right with him, then finished that much. With a sharp pointed awl or some other instrument the deco-rator then marked the design in the plaster, and proceeded to his task. Sometimes a small design of the work in hand was made and kept lying by to refer to in case the decorator became puz-zled as to how to proceed. The necessity of this can readily be seen when one remembers that some of the great works of this kind were fifteen and sometimes twenty years in the accomplish-ment. If all which was marked could not be done in the day the plasterer cut the unfinished portion off and they began all over again. An almost perfect knowledge of pigments was ab-solutely essential to the decorator of the old time. Lime in dry-ing causes many colors to fade and some to become darker. It was necessary for the mechanic to know just what effect the lime tf**ftiufvrxv GETTYSBURG COLLEGE * Gettysburg, Pa. LIBRARY 10 THE MEBCURY. "An unlucky spot," sighed Proud Patrick. "He ain't the first, nor thirteenth to be tuk tar." Hattie came running in with the holy water bottle and Mis-tress Proud Patrick eagerly bathed poor Oiney's head. As the cold drops fell showering upon his face Oiney winced in spite of himself. "The color is comin' to his cheeks," said Hattie as she knelt over him solicitously. "The fire is warmin' him. He's comin' roun' all right." "God be thanked for holy water bottle said Mrs. Proud Pat-rick. "Let's raise him up a bit," said Del. "An' a drop of nice warm sweet milk with a pinch o' ginger and sugar might do the poor fello' good," said Hattie. "Bether couldn't be," said Del. "An' a bowl o' tea," added Chris. "An' a drop o' spirits," said Joe. At this insinuation a perceptible glow over-spread the features of the unconscious one and to the delight of Del and eve^one there, a sigh escaped his lips. "God be thanked," said Hattie. Del bent over his patient and softly whispered, "Oiney." Oiney slowly opened his eyes and looked wonderingly and in-quiringly about him. "Del—is—is—thet—you ?" "Yis, yis, me darlint." "Del—where an' where can I be?" "Make yer min' aisy, ye are in a dacent house an' with dacent folks. Mister Proud Patrick and Mistress and Hattie McPher-son. Del then asked for a drop of whiskey and tried to persuade Oiney to take it but he refused. "Just a drop," said Del. "Only a toothful," said Mrs. Proud Patrick," and take it as medicine. It'll send the blood through yer veins." But Oiney looked gratefully at Mrs. Proud Patrick and ten-derly at Hattie, but still refused to touch the whiskey. The patient grew rapidly stronger on the beef tea which was THE MEKCURY. 11 tendered by loving hands and thanked the whole family for the trouble they had gone to in his behalf. "But ah, ye knows I can't be kapin' ye dacent folk out o' bed all night—it's almost mornin' now." "Oh, that's all right," volunteered Hattie. "It's no bother an' as to me uncle an' aunt, there, they can go to bed any time now seein' ye are on the fair way to mendin' yerself; an' me an' Eosie-an' Matthew 'ill tarry a while an' git ye somethin' to eat." "Uncle," she continued, "you an' me aunt can now take yer-selves off to bed seein' poor ill Oiney here is gettin' along bet-ter. Myself an' Eosie an' Matthew 'ill take care of him jes as good as if you was here." So with more thanks Oiney bade them good night and wished them a sound sleep and pleasant dreams, and assured them he would never forget their timely generosity. Then Hattie warmed some sweet milk and supported Oiney while he drank it. He was soon sufficiently strengthened to make his way to the fireside with the help of Hattie and Eosie, where he and Hattie sat down together. Oh, I'm ever so glad you're comin' roun' so fast," Said Hattie. "Faith an' I know the doctor I'm thankin' for the same," re-plied Oiney, his eyes beaming upon her. "Och, don't bother me Oiney, it's a poet you should a' been born—you've a tongue as sweet as any poet's." "Well, it's no poet you should a' been born, darlin' but in the Garden of Aiden." "Array, go way with ye." "Yis. in the Garden of Aiden, when man was alone an' com-fortless." "But the Bible never mentioned Adam takin' 'fever gortach," and Oiney reflected. "Oh, Adam would a' got it some how if he had a thot that it would a brot you in its wake." "Houl on Oiney. Take yer arm away out o' that. Take it away. Tre' ain't no danger o' my takin' waikness—no fear of it." "An' thr' all blamin' poor Adam 'cause he ate the apple"— went on Oiney, philosophical!}', gazing into the fire, still keeping ^■^■i^^n^^^^^^^^^^^H 12 THE MERCURY. his arm across her as if absentmindedly. "I know well if I was Adam an' some people I know was Eve, an' that if this partick-ler Eve offered me the same size o' rat pizen and sayed, Here Adam, my sweet, take this, its good, I'd swallowed it an' swared it was honey." "My, what a nice fellow you'd make for the lucky woman that gits ye," said Hattic. "But will ye take away yerself an' take yer arm out o' thet." "Oh," said Oiney in surprise. "Is that where my arm is?" Yet absentmindedly he went on philosophizing upon man's lonely lot had not God given him lovely woman to be a joy and a blessing forever. Del whiled away the early morning hours for Eosie, the maid, and poor Chris and Joe Eegan smoked their pieces of pipe. When the gray dawn began to filter through the blackness of the night, Hattie and Eosie who now had to begin their day's work, bade their sweethearts a merry good-bye after promising to meet them on Sunday evening at the Crooked Bridge. THE VOTER'S DOMINANT PRINCIPLES SHOULD BE. WHAT THEY ROY V. DERR, '10. .NDIVIDUAL right of franchise is the heart of a demo-cratic government. The stability and perpetuity of a nation such as ours depend upon the righteous use of the ballot-box j while corruption and dissolution are the fruit of its abuse. The right to vote becomes a cherished privi-lege by the young man as he approaches twenty-one. At this point a searching question confronts him. Will he be influenced by seductive tradition and paternal inheritance? Will he con-tinue to cast his vote as father always did? Or will he permit his privilege to be directed by certain guiding principles? This is the vital question. When one thinks of the untutored multi-tudes who become the prey of scheming politicians, it becomes an THE MERCURY. 13 important question. But what should these dominant motives, of action be? If our voter is a man of any education or good judgment, he will seek to have a general knowledge of the country's condition and needs. He aims to know the issues at stake, and the plat-form of his chosen party with regard to them. Why ? That he may decide whether the candidate in question is fully qualified for the position. In other words he will endeavor to vote intel-ligently. Not merely boasting a long ancestry who were stal-wart Democrats or life-long Eepublicans. Very often such a spirit is but ignorant pride and betrays the lack of intelligence and reason. The voter should not only be able to state his party,, but also to tell why it is his preference. But the careful voter will not stop with an investigation into the ability of the candidate to fill the duties of office. He goes further and deeper. He will seek to know the aspiring office seeker as a man. What is his character? A man of self-con-trol and integrity ? Will he prove faithful to the trust ? These questions must be answered affirmatively by the conscientious voter. Strict sense of civic duty demands nothing less. The loyal citizen will not cast his vote for incompetent or unworthy men out of mere favor or friendly acquaintance. To do so weak-ens the dictates of his moral conscience. The highest motives should control our franchise; the prosperity of the State, the-welfare of the community, and the best interests' of all concerned. This is true loyalty and genuine patriotism. Above all, for the thoughtful man the dominant principle will be party subordinate to the man. Some one may ask would not such universal independent voting destroy political parties? They are essential to counter-balance one another in government. In answer the true voter will use his influence in securing the best men on the party ticket of his preference, if for some reason these are not chosen, but undesirable nominees instead, the strict sense of civic duty will compel him to refuse to vote for those men. Partisanship must bow before right and duty. Prejudice and tradition must yield to justice and intelligence. It is bet-ter to cut one's ticket and prove traitor to one's party than to iise one's franchise in voting for incompetent or unworthy men. Then he will have nothing to regret. L GETTYSBURG COLLEGEI Gettysburg, Pa. LIBRARY ^^^■^^^^B^^^H 14 THE MERCURY. Who is to blame for corruption in politics? For partisan legislation and bad government? Those holding office we say. But our nation is a democracy! We boast of the rule of the-people! The boomerang springs back upon the voter himself. Corrupt legislation reflects itself upon the public at large. If office holders prove unloyal to their country's trust, it shows that the voters were not careful enough to elect the best men. This situation is but a practical application of the fable in which the indulgent master gives shelter, under his tent, to the imploring ass who in turn ungratefully kicks him out! What, then, should be the voter's dominant principles? To serve his country and State, not only party and self. To know the needs and conditions of his nation or community. To elect the man best fitted to fill the position, that is the man of capabil-ity and character. The former involves the ability to discharge his duties well and efficiently. The latter includes those quali-ties of honesty and integrity as will enable the office holder to stand fearlessly against bribery, partiality or injustice. Such is the type of man whom the true voter will strive to elect. So long as the right of franchise is jealously guarded and highly prized, there will be no need to fear the downfall of our repub-lic. But she shall ascend higher as a moving power in the eyes of the civilized world. Her destiny will not approach soon, but with the oncoming years, she shall exert an untold influence-among the nations of the world. THE MERCURY. 15 IS GERMANY A MENACE TO THE WORLD'S PEACE ? C. M. ALLABACH, '11. T can hardly be denied by those who have noticed the trend of international politics that Germany is the greatest obstacle to the world's peace to-day. This has become strikingly evident in recent years. Diplomatic relations between the English and Germans have been strained for more than a decade. The famous Kruger tele-gram of 1896, the intense commercial rivalry, the hostile attitude of the German people during the Boer War, the biting criticism of the press, and finally, the manifest intention of Germany to wrest from Great Britain her maritime supremacy, have all com-bined to make the situation critical. To England, this mari-time supremacy is a matter of life and death; to Germany, it is an object of mere desire or ambition. Examples of German aggressiveness are numerous. The first American experience of it was in the Samoan Islands in 1888, and a second in 1898, when Germany sent a powerful fleet to the Philippine Islands. Japan felt it in 1895 when Germany joined Russia and France in forcing her to recede from the Liao-Tung Peninsula which bore no small weight in furthering and hasten-ing the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War. All Europe and America was unfavorably impressed by the attitude of the Ger-mans in the Boxer uprising. Then, too, it is generally known that Germany took the initiative in the Venezuelan blockade in 1M2, and since the power of Russia has been considerably les-sened by the Russo-Japanese War, the Germans appear to be even more aggressive than before. These actions truly speak louder than words, but the words are not lacking either. The German Kaiser's speeches are teeming with expressions which clearly reveal the German attitude. Among many others he said at Cologne in 1897: "We have great duties in the world. There are Germans everywhere whom we must protect. German prestige must be preserved abroad. The trident belongs in our hands." In 1900, upon delegating to Prince Henry the command of the Oriental fleet, he said: "Im-perial power is sea power. The two are mutually dependent. 16 THE MERCURY. Should anyone infringe our rights, then use the mailed fist and earn your laurel wreath." To departing soldiers he used such terms as these: "Spare nobody." "Take no prisoners." "Give no quarter." Such expressions are not the mere workings of an individual's maind, but are the sentiments of a nation expressed through its chief executive. It is true, too, that Germany is the greatest obstacle to the policy of limitation of armaments and obligatory arbitration. It was with great difficulty that the German government was per-suaded to consent to the establishment of the permanent Court of Arbitration. She opposed nearly every policy advocated by England. She held strict views of belligerant rights and voted against every specific proposal of obligatory arbitration. The Germans have rejected the advances since made by the English to enter upon an Anglo-German understanding concern-ing the cost and extent of their naval programs, claiming that no formal proposal has been made and therefore no official transac-tions have followed. Since Germany was not in harmony with the proposals of the Hague Conference, there seems to be but one remedy to check the steadily growing martial spirit of the sturdy Germans, namely, an alliance between the two greatest branches of the Anglo-Saxon race, England and America. Unless some such alliance is formed, the law of "the survival of the fittest" will be the outcome; of which the fittest is the strongest, the best or-ganized, and the most unscrupulous. A NARROW ESCAPE. R. L. MCNALLY, '13. JHNEAKEY was feeling blue that night as we sat together in the lobby of The Eoyal. He awaiting the arrival of a certain well-padded person, whom he pleased to call his victim,—and very impressibly informed me would be his last one,—while I was trying to pass away the night of idleness. Sneakey started to tell me all about his intended re- THE MERCURY. 17 form, and was in the midst of a "profound resolve" with his fist in the air intending to bring it down on the handle of my chair, when the arrival of a ponderous white steam car arrested his at-tention and without a sign or signal he arose from where he sat walked over to the door where the fat and hearty autoist would have to enter. Only once did he glance back at me, and then very quickly. I thought 1 noticed a shade of distress in that glance, but dismissed the thought of the fact that Sneakey, above all, would ever shrink from a job. Sneakey followed this particular individual over to the desk and watched him register, lighting a cigarette in a cool and un-interested fashion, but carefully noticing in his mind the rooms to be occupied by this person. He didn't return to where I was sitting, a very wise thing on his part, but strolled over to the bil-liard room, where fifteen minutes later, I found him actively en-gaged in a game with a stately looking, shifting-eyed sport. I walked on through and out on the street, took a car, and was soon in my room snugly seated in my large chair, planning, and thinking I had spotted a large elegantly finished mansion across the park, occupied solely by an old gentleman of eccentric habits. his brother, two house maids, and a general utility man. Next morning after breakfast I strolled across the park to in-vestigate my intended loot and map out a course that would be sure to bring me safely to my goal. I bought a paper afterwards and nothing could be printed clearer, nor more prominent to me than the little three-lined announcement that Sneakey, the one and only friend I had to depend upon, had been intercepted in an attempt to enter the rooms of a wealthy guest and was being held for trial. Of all the news, this was the most distressing. But what could I do but accept it as a present from our dreaded enemies, the plain clothes men. I did not know what to do for tools, and to attempt such a task alone would be almost fool-hardy, and Sneakey's presence was an excellent solution to both of these quanderies. But, since he was taken into the strong arms of the police, I could do nothing else than depend on luck. It was now 10.30 A. M., and I thought I might run across an old acquaintance, but there was none I could think of, let alone trust as an accomplice. After dinner I made a list of what I t^^^m^^^m 18 THE MERCURY. was in need of and among the things I needed most was a pair of wire nippers in case I would need them. Now I knew that Sneakey had a pair so I walked over to his room, having to pass the seat of my night's work, and picked the lock. Hanging across the back of a chair was a coat made up with the lining of a smoking jacket. I quickly realized its value and took it over to a tailor's and ordered it pressed, and put into proper shape. In the pocket of this coat I found a cigar which I took as a charm for my safety because I found it in the pocket of the most valuable tool I could have possibly came across. Placing the cigar carefully in my pocket the next thing to do was to get a mate at all hazzards. Scotty kept a rather notable pool room where I had been in the habit of spending some time and where I knew I could find a collection of choicest men of my profession. On entering I could hardly believe myself when who should step up and shake my hand but Harry Musser. I hadn't seen him for years, and why, I'm sure, is not because he had fallen into the same ill luck as Sneakey. I told him all of my plans and asked him to go along and help "cinch it," but woe for my hopes; he had a job on hand at White Flains, and was leaving that night on the 11.30 boat to ge to White Plains about 2 A. M., and be safe from all view to carry out his aim. Well, this was the last hope, and I decided to go alone. I saw Harry off and returning to my room put on the coat nicely tailored, and walked across the park and on around to the rear entrance of this house. Just as I entered the hedge I heard West Hall Hedge clock strike one. Walking up to the porch I started operations by climbing the vine, since I had to dispense with Sneakey's excellent tact of pitching a rope ladder. Gaining the level of the window sill I swung across and caught hold of the sill and hung suspended until I could grasp the shutter and pull myself up so that I could place my foot against the opposite side of the window frame and gradually work myself up inch by inch until I was standing on the sill holding on to the shutters. I was starting to work on the win-dow when I heard somebody walking on the pavement. When he got opposite the place where I was he stopped, lit a cigar and gazing aimlessly about, turned his steps and walked up the gravel walk and sat down on the porch almost under me and smoked. THE MERCURY. 19 After about fifteen minutes I did not see or hear him stir, and concluded he was asleep. Much was my chagrin when I found the window pulled up tight against the upper frame. To get in was almost impossible, and to get back to where I came from, was impossible. I had to decide some way. I knew that it would be safer to get out through the house than to get past that night watchman below, so taking a small finger-nail clip from my pocket, I dig two crescent shaped holes in the window frame, and placing my fingers in them bent all my effort toward pulling it down. It yielded, and carefully lowering it, I climbed in, down on the floor and I thought noislessly over to view my room in general, when all of a sudden, the lights were turned on brightly and a small buz sounded on the wall which I knew was a signal. Then locating the door, I made for it, but was barred by a huge porpous of a man whom I concluded was the butler. I had to pass him to liberty, and being much smaller, knew a struggle would be useless. I waited until he charged, then side-stepping I gave him a lucky stroke in the stomach. He wasn't long in the fight. Throwing my hat in a corner, I ran my fingers through my hair, put the coat inside out, the cigar in my mouth, ran down to the front door, to escape, preparing lest the police should arrive before I got away. Two officers were coming down the pavement at a good speed. I did not know what to do in so-tight a place. I decided to use strategy, so assuming a horrified expression, I called to them that here was the place, and ex-plained that the old gentleman had became suddenly worse, and that I was sent by him to bring his son, who lived some distance-from the house. That story wasn't believed in full by them, and! they decided to go along with me to bring his son. The two fol-lowed me for a square, and then stopping, I reasoned that two of them should go back to the old man, and assist the butler in car-ing for him, while the other officer and I went for the son. To this they agreed, and we two sped, where, I did not know until, reaching into the pocket of this coat, my hand fell upon the wire nippers. I just happened to think of Sneakey. I knew he wouldn't be in his room so I made a short cut there and pound-ing on the door received no reply, until a doctor next door put his head outside the door and informed us that that gentleman mi^^^^^^^^^^^^mwg^^^^^^^^^^^^^m 20 THE MEECUET. had left yesterday morning and had not returned yet. Now I knew to go along back to the house would mean my arrest so I told the officer that he should go on back to assist the other officer and the butler, while I awaited until this doctor would dress and go along with me, that we would follow in a few moments. When the officer left, I feigning that I intended to wait, followed after him down to the street level and proceded over by a back street to my rooms. Next day I learned of Sneakey's sentence of two years and went around, packed up his furniture to store it. In the pro-cess of this packing I was assisted by this doctor who told me of the very strange call he had last night. THE "BACK HOME" BOY. EDWIK C. HOBBOW, '12. EE we, the great American people, interested in the farmer boy? "We are. Why should the attention of the richest, most commercial nation of the earth turn to the humble youth of sunburnt face and freckled nose "back home ?" There are several conspiring reasons which cause the lines of national interest to deflect from their normal course toward that obscure spot on the map where is growing to man-hood the average country boy. One of the first reasons, perhaps, is to be found in the fact that he is "the boy back home." Somebody has said, "God made the country, but man made the town." Well, what man made the town? It was the man from the country; and it is the man from the country who is making the town grow and prosper to-day. It is from the hay-field rather than from the gutter; from the garden rather than from the crowded quarters of the town, that men are being drafted to fight the great battle of the world's market place and public halls. The bulk of brains, the brawn, and the character of this country has come from the country; and from the country will come at least many of our big men of the succeeding gen-eration. THE MERCURY. 21 The country boy is running America to-day; his name is legion. Abraham Lincoln, the greatest monument in American history, has established a standard of idealism for all American frontier boys. President Eoosevelt was a western rancher. William Jennings Bryan, who, despite conflicting views and re-gardless of politics, is an international character, wears overalls on his Nebraska farm. Anthony Comstock, one of the greatest and best moral forces in America to-day, came from a New Eng-land farm. Homer Davenport, one of the best known political cartoonists in the country, grew up on a far western farm. And so the list may continue down along the directory of the "Who is Who"—including United States senators, merchant princes, economic, scientific and philosophic authorities; light of the bar and pulpit; writers, artists and musicians; there is no seat of the mighty where the farmer boy has not sat. If there is anybody in this whole country of ours who is a free citizen, it is the country boy. He is as free as everything about him,—the air, the sunshine, the birds, the snow. Out here in God's own country, a boy can not help growing to manhood brave and strong and clear-minded. Simple taste, simple appe-tites, a simple home, these are a wholesome curriculum for a boy's individual education. Plain food, regular hours, and plenty of healthful exercise,—these create a strong body, the only fit setting for a strong mind. The farmer boy grows up away from the atmosphere of riotous vice. He is not bred in the shadow of corporate domination and "higher ups;" he recognizes no "higher up" in this world than his Father. He is imbued with the faith that a man who dares can, and that a man who can should. He has confidence in himself, and belief in his future. That is what we by times call by one of several names: Energy, backbone, enterprise, jasm, initiative, perseverance, grit, gump-. tion. Whatever it is, it is a winnig quality,—it is power. The thoughtful men are realizing this to-day as they never-did before. Employers know it and want young men from the country; educators feel it and rejoice over the country bred scholar. The voter knows it; and the politician knows that he knows it, with the result that we get in office to-day some honest and fearless men, who stand for the best in American polities,, though tied until almost powerless. 22 THE MERCURY. It is no disgrace to have come from the country, and the boy from the country need not be afraid to apply for a job. His record is good, and nothing need stand between him and success. THE EVOLUTION OF THE BEAST. EDWARD N. FRYE, '10. |OWJST from the mountains came two beasts into a plain upon which grew a few blades of grass; they stood facing each other with snarls. Finally the battle be-gan to rage as to which should get those few blades. It became a life and death struggle, and the turmoil was great. It was a case of the survival of the fittest. The strong one con-quered and the grass was his. The other lay in the dust and gore with his life slowly ebbing away. Thus as I look out over this great country and see the strug-gle of man for life, for liberty and for progress, and then think that he is called beast and materialist, I am reminded of the story of the beasts. The charge is not wholly untrue. Man is a materialist, but a materialist by necessity, a materialist because he is a creature of society and society is warring to keep him bound. His materialism is a bread and butter problem. His materialisms are the necessities of life, nourishment of the body and a life with its comforts. The problem is how shall he pro-cure those necessities upon which his life depends, and how can he add to his daily life those comforts. These are the foremost thoughts in his mind. His hunger must be satisfied and his body clothed, likewise he must care for his wife and his children. Of course he is a materialist and what else could he be. What would give him existence? Surely not spiritualism. The life of man is made up of more or less materialistic wants. And he has been called a materialist because he is forced to center all thought on these wants. He has been called a materialist be-cause he is demanding that which by right is his and which so-ciety will not grant. He has been called a materialist because the other big beast, capitalism, is contending with him for the THE MERCURY. 23 last blade of grass. He is being driven to the very brink of de-spair with only one thought: "How can I live," and with one problem to solve: "How can I procure bread and butter." He is forced further and further to the point of starvation and still that mighty hand reaches out to grasp more from his little to swell its fortune or fill its coffers. Thus the working man is forced to lift up his voice and cry for his rights when the Ameri-can aristocracy consider him nothing more than a machine to further their interests. Whentheworkingman is reduced to a thing he becomes a materialist by necessity. He cannot lie back on the oars and pray that the Almighty God may give him bread, for then he would starve. He is therefore compelled to concentrate his energy, to rise up against such conditions and let his voice be, heard in order that he may receive that which by divine right is his. Then only when he receives that right can he turn his at-tention to the other phase of life, the spiritual side. To bring this about there must be an evolution of social condi-tions, not a revolution as the one who stands without the turmoil describes. The working man must rise up out of his present condition and let it be known that he is not a mere beast for the purpose of serving capitalistic interests and when of no more use to be turned off to starve or to be an object of charity. The capitalist, who is the real materialist, and in a sense a pragma-tist, must realize that the so-called brute is his social brother, born with all the privileges of a human being and with a soul that is equally precious in the sight of God. The capitalist must recognize that life is not a mere dream for the other fellow, but that it is a reality demanding a certain share of this world's goods to make it a joy and to prepare that soul for its rightful inheritance. This will take place when he ceases to say of his social brother: "Beast, beast," and in turn shows him his love. If the capitalist would change his perspective what a change would surely be in human affairs and in human lives. How much strife would be eliminated and how much deeper would be the spiritual life. Then man could think more seriously of things that are spiritual. The stomach of the working man would be filled and his physical wants attended to. You must satisfy those physical wants before you can hope to have him seek the wants of the soul or to develop him spiritually. 24 THE MERCURY. THE SPIRIT OF THE PLACE. HARVEY S. HOSHOUR, '10. S the autumn twilight closed in upon the old Thomaaton campus, so fraught with traditions and memories of a century's existence, there seemed to be an element of discontent, quite foreign to the place indeed, which per-meated everyone. Grant Hilsey, if the conversations which were conducted in low tones throughout the quadrangle were correct, the cause of all this discord, was throwing off his football togs in a room luxuriously furnished in every appointment. He then took a quick shower and dressed thoughtfully. Yes he was right. Something would happen tonight. Something must happen. What should he do ? Should he go to the mass-meeting or stay in his room? What was best for the college? All these ques-tions played havoc in Hilsey's mind while he was dressing and while he ate a late supper at the training table: The old chapel on the hill was that night the scene of the largest mass meeting Thomaston had ever known. Tomorrow-was the day for the "big" game with Greenvale, and the slogan of the meeting was, "Thomaston expects every man to do his duty." After speeches short and to the point by various mem-bers of the faculty, the 'Varsity men were called for one by one, and responded with short talks, promising their best efforts on the morrow. "What's the matter with Captain Hilsey?" shouted the cheer leader. The answer was an irresolute, "He's all right," amid a hubbub of hisses and jeers. The cheer leader looked aghast. "Let's see him. We want Hilsey," clamored the crowd, seem-ingly ashamed of its first action. Every one turned to the rear whence they expected Hilsey to come but there was no answer. Hilsey was not there. The captain had come into the meeting late and had sat in the rear, listening to his men as they spoke. He, too, would do his best to win. How could he lose, leading men with such spirit? Then came the jeers. He had known they must come, but he could not check the hot tears that kept swelling to his eyes. There was still one chance. He was in the rear seat and had not THE MERCURY. 25 been noticed in the excitement of the evening. H suited his ac-tion to the thought, and when the crowd turned to look for him, he had gone forth, unseen and alone. The leader shook his megaphone for silence and said in a voice that quivered just a bit, for he was a friend of the captain, "Pel-lows, tonight we have insulted one of the best captains Thomas-ton has ever known. He has picked the team with the best in-terests of the college at heart, regardless of what his enemies may say. For four years we have seen Grant Hilsey fighting for Thomaston honor. Where is the man who ever saw him betray the college. We have elected him captain, and upon him our hopes of beating Greenvale depend, and yet we hear criticisms, "improvements," and even jeers on the eve of our gratest game. It's mighty fortunate he isn't here to see this, for you know the Hilsey pride and its hard to tell what any one of us wouldn't do under his circumstances. Now fellows, lets make it so he can hear it. "What's the matter with Hilsey?" "He's all right," came back witht the roar of thunder. The dissatisfaction over the picking of the team and the captain himself seemed to be go-ing fast. "Who's all right?" Hilsey," re-echoed the crowd. "We want Hilsey," they yelled, but none appeared. The leader again motioned for silence. "Boys," he said, "one more rick-etyax for Captain Hilsey." The yell was given with a lust. All feeling was gone now in the spirit of the place which gripped every man in a way which was irresistible. With a "last long ray for the 'Varsity," the most successful mass meeting Thomas-ton had ever seen was over. When Grant Hilsey emerged from the building all seemed a confused mass. He had been publicly insulted and even jeered at. Last year, after the season which had ended by "sweeping Greenvale off the face of the earth," as the Thomastonian had it, he had been the hero of the college. He had made the run that had won for his Alma Mater, and it was quite natural that Hil-sey should be elected captain of next year's eleven. The election had been unanimous. He had come back this fall eager to pro-duce another victorious team, but the material was new and hard to get into shape. He had done his best, fairly and squarely, with the result that his associates characterized him as a deserter, for he had not chosen the, team entirely from his own "clique." 26 THE MERCURY. He was too fair for that. He was also criticized by that class of students—all too common everywhere—whose chief concern it is to kick, who are too good for everybody, yet whom nobody wants, and who still, somehow or other, exercise an influence,—probably only due to their persistency,—on every college community. The result was that Hilsey had become the most unpopular man in the college. As he walked through the campus he had grown to love, his mind was crowded to overflowing. What should he do? The Hilsey pride asserted itself. He would show them. No Hilsey could be played with in this manner. They had said that his team was "crooked." Let them improve on it. They would see that they couldn't do without Grant Hil-sey. Eevenge would be his and sweet would be his revenge. Instead of going to his room Hilsey went across the campus to his fraternity house. It too was deserted. He would send for his trunk after the game. As he sat musing on the porch the old walls loomed up before him. How he longed to graduate. But he was a Hilsey and a Hilsey never gave in. What did he care for the place anyhow? There were surely others just as good. The night train for Watauga was almost empty that night. All traffic was turned toward Thomaston for the morrow's big game. It was too late for Hilsey to go home when the train got in, so he resolved to stop at the hotel till the next day. Through-out the night and the morning his mind was in one vast whirl. He would wait till evening before going home. He remembered that all his people were at Thomaston to see the game. Some-how or other he felt that he was shirking something. Maybe he ought to go back to Thomaston even though his fellows had de-serted him. What did these unworthy sons have to do with old Thomaston anyhow ? He remembered a little essay of his on college spirit, on which he had been complimented highly. He was a Freshman then. He remembered the past three years, their ups and downs, their fortunes and misfortunes. Yes, they were happy years, all too happy but they were gone for good now. The Hilsey pride had shown itself. But that essay on college spirit kept forcing itself into his mind. That was theory he knew, rather sentimental at that. Was there such a thing at Thomaston as real live college THE MERCUKY. 27 spirit? He had done his best but did he have the spirit which could endure all for the sake of the college. Anything but gibes, he thought. But what else had he endured. He had failed at the first trial. He was a failure, a quitter, and Thomaston had expected every man to do his duty. Again the college walls loomed up in his mind. Yes, he loved them, he loved their •every stone, he loved their traditions and their lore. He looked at his watch. Could he make it? The Thomaston spirit asserted itself. He signalled a passing car, which he recognized as one of his father's. "Fast as you can to Thomaston," were his orders. It was a long ride but never for an instant did Hilsey's intentions change. There was such a thing as college spirit, Thomaston spirit. He was completely in its spell. As the car neared the campus he heard the cheer leader call, "Now then Thomaston." It thrilled his very heart. That was Thomaston, his Thomaston. "To my room," he fairly yelled to the chauffeur. The campus was de-serted. Over the green hedge which surrounded the athletic field, he could see a mass of crimson and gold. That meant Thomaston, the Thomaston he longed to fight for. It was the work of a few minutes to jump into his togs. Never was he so proud of the hugh "T" on his sweater. To think that he was so near forfeiting the privilege of wearing it. As he neared the field he heard a count—one-two-three—and then a long drawn out —nothing, all from the opposing side. His heart gave a throb. There was a chance yet. He flung off his sweater. He would show them that the Hil-sey pride was swallowed up in his college spirit. A great shout arose as the wearers of the crimson and gold saw Hilsey. They forgot enmities. He, their only hope, had come back to make them win. His judgment had been vindicated for his team had played wonderfully, and, but for a beautiful kick would have held Greenvale to no score. "Ten minutes to play," announced the time-keeper as Hilsey took his place at quarter. The team had been holding well be-fore. Now with a leader they played an aggressive game. Slowly they marched up the gridiron. Once they lost the ball, only to regain it on downs. Thomaston enthusiasm knew no bounds. There were no spectacular runs, ten yards being the greatest 28 THE MERCURY. single gain. With one minute to play a touch-down was made and the goal kicked. "What's the matter with Hilsey?" again shouted the leader. Never was such a yell heard as when they cried, "He's all right." The game was over. Again the colors of Thomaston flew high. Hilsey was late for supper again that evening. The sun was setting beyond the chapel hill with a blaze of crimson and gold, which seemed to him to be in honor of Thomaston's victory, his victory. The old chapel looked dearer than ever. In a few short months he would receive his diploma there. "It's the spirit of the place," he murmured as a crowd of students came down the street, wood in one hand and oil cans in the other. "There he is now. We want Hilsey," they cried." Yes," he muttered, as he was being hoisted upon the shoulders of his ad-miring fellows, "its the spirit of the place, the college spirit, the Thomaston spirit." I H E HE RCU RV Entered at the Postoffi.ee at Gettysburg as second-class Matter. VOL. XVII GETTYSBURG, PA., NOVEMBER, 1909 No. 6 Editor in-Chief SAMUEL FAUSOLD, 'IO. Exchange Editor G. E. BOWERSOX, 'io Business Manager PAUL S. MILLER, 'IO Ass't Bus. Managers C. M. ALLABACH,'ii S. T. BAKER, 'II Assistant Editor RALPH E. RUDISILL, 'IO Associate Editors E. J. BOWMAN, 'II C. M. DAVIS, 'II Advisory Board PROF. G. F. SANDERS, A. M. PROF. P. M. BIKLE, FH. D. PROF. C. J. GRIMM, PH. D. Published each month, from October to June inclusive, by the joint literary Societies of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg) College. Subscription price, one dollar a year in advance ; single copies IS cents. Notice to discontinue sending THE MERCURY to any address must be ac-companied by all arrearages. Students, Professors and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Business Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS. fore, his duty to cultivate it. THE CONYERSA- What a world TIONALIST. of meaning this word contains! What a flood of memories it brings to us! Un-consciously there leaps to the im-agination the pictures of talkers who have given us many a pleas-ant hour. The human voice is probably man's greatest gift. It is his dis-tinguishing feature. It is, there- Indeed this should be his ambi- ^■■■^^^■H 30 THE MEECUEY. tion: to be affable, clear, optimistic and pleasant; to develop a ready wit and the happy accomplishment of speaking the right word at the right time. Indeed to keep silent always is as great a fault as constant babbling. Franklin expressed the idea as follows: "As we must account for every idle word, so we must for every idle silence. Conversation is not a wooden thing; it is elastic, happy and free; it runs, hops and skips. Indeed man's greatest asset is speech and harmonious conversation between two or more should be made the supreme pleasure of life. Conversation costs us nothing in dollars and cents; it com-pletes our education; discovers friends for us and can be enjoyed at all times and in all places. Although conversation is common to all ages, we believe the golden age of youth makes most of it. The young man or woman—particularly the college man or woman—uses the gift of speech to give expression to the bright-est hopes for the future. The collegian, in fact, lives in the fuT ture and oh! what a loss it would be to him to be deprived of the pleasure of building castles in the air. Talk is the great instrument of friendship. By it as Steven-son says, "Men and women contend for each other in the lists of love like rival mesmerists. By it friends can measure strength and enjoy that amicable counter-assertion of personality which is the gauge of relations and the sport of life." Conversation generally drifts to the two great subjects, "You and I." Of course the third party may be given passing consid-eration but vain humanity can not long escape the subjective. This fact is quite noticeable in the chat of two college chums. It invariably has to with the welfare of the speakers directly or in-directly. This being the case the conversationalist should be careful to clothe his old subjects in new garments and to bring them forth from the mint, as it were, with new and ever delight-ful aspects. Yes, let us continue to talk! Let us enjoy our talks, but let us seek to find more and more ways to benefit from them. THE American business world is a rapidly flowing river. To get into this rapidly moving stream, man must hustle and not be slothful. The competitions of modern life have become so keen THE MERCURY. 31 that there are no opportunities for the lazy. Man must either work or go to the wall. In every community this fact is under-stood but too often not believed. Should not these student days be hours of industry and benefit ? Many a night is spent in folly and the following day suffers. The only real and lasting enjoy-ment in life is to be found in work. Everything which man creates decays when neglected, but nothing in nature goes to pieces so fast as man in idleness. The conditions of all our faculties and enjoyments are found in the full exercise of all our powers to the limit of their capacity. There are examples of college men ad inflnitissium whose voice touches no sympathetic chord in the activities of to-day. Their thoughts never got beyond college politics and rivalries of secret societies. They have always been idlers and now are hopeless failures. As in the lower life the busy bees have no room for the drone, so in a college community the diligent students have no room for the dilatory. Let us conscientiously answer the ever-present question would our parents approve of their money's time and benefit ? and give tireless attention to our own work and advancement and when the commencement clock strikes we shall all be ready for our liberal professions. EXCHANGES. | GAIN it becomes our pleasant duty to examine and com-ment on our exchanges. We are gratified to see so many of the former papers again appear this year; as well as many new ones. A few of the former ex-changes have not yet made their appearance, but we trust it is only a matter of a short time until we shall again have the pleas-ure of receiving them. The matter of criticism is quite a relative one; some papers choose to tear every thread of good out of productions by hostile criticism; others are too apt in praising. It has always been our custom to act the part of appreciative critics in dealing with our friends. Of course there is often a necessity to make the harsher 32 THE MERCURY. kind of criticism, but in so doing we shall always do it with a friendly spirit and trust no offense is taken. Of the few exchanges to reach our hands this year one of the best is "The Gilford Collegian;" its departments are all well ordered and literary contributions are of a high order. The ora-tion, "The Solid South," is a very pertinent production; it deals in a broad and sensible manner with the reasons of southern solidity and shows how the causes for it no longer exist and that the idea belonging to a past time should be relegated to its pro-per place by the thoughtful citizens. The story, "The Heart of a Woman," in the same issue is very clearly written and not only causes much amusement but some serious thought. The October issue of "The College Student" is filled with well written articles. "The Crime of the Congo" and "The Crucible of Life" show much preparation and skillful arrangement of material. "We gratefully acknowledge all exchanges received. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. IN this Drama of Four Year's Course, Play your part without dad's horse ; This to do is up to you With just a little tact between each yearly act, In some domain take a stroll And sell ALUMINUM for next year's Role (roll). Every summer hundreds of students make BIG MONEY selling Aluminum Cooking Utensils. For particulars address LOUIS HETZEL, Gettysburg College, GETTYSBURG, PA. THE STEWART & STEEN CO., COLLEGE ENGRAVERS, 1024 Arch Street, PHILADELPHIA. MAKERS OF INVITATIONS, PROGRAMS, MENUS, VISITING CARDS, DANCE CARDS, MONOGRAMS, CLASS AND FRATERNITY STATIONERY. P. S. MILLER, '10, Representative, Who has a full line of samples. EDUCATION The times an .1 the Schools demand that the best things shall be done and in the best manner. Watermans^FountainPen accomplishes everything that can be required of a good writing in-strument. Made to last for years of service and give its owner the satisfaction which comes with owning "the best." From all dealers. The Globe trade-mark i» our guarantee .742 Market St. San Frm 136 St. Jftinei St., Moi.trenl 12 Golden L*n«. ton-ton G Ru« A* lUnovm Paris PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. FUIOTTU^E Mattresses, Bed Springs, Iron Beds, Picture Frames, Repair Work done promptly. Under-taking a specialty. - Telephone No. 97. H. B. BENDER. 37 Baltimore Street, Gettysburg, Pa. EDGAR C. TAWNEY BAKER West Middle Street. J. B. WINEMAN, DEALER IN CHOICE FAMILY GROCERIES, PROVISIONS AND FRUITS, BOARDING CLUBS A SPECIALTY. L. WEIGAND, DEALER IN FRESH AND CURED MEATS OF ALL KINDS-Boarding Clubs a Specialty. §003^5 f^e5tQUPQDt, No. 7 Chambersburg Street. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. EMIL ZOTHE, College Emblems, Engraver, Designer and Manufacturing Jeweler, 722 Chestnut St., Phil delphia. Specialties: Masonic Marks, Society Badges, College Buttons, Pins, Scarf Pins, Stick Pins and Athletic Prizes. All Goods ordered through G. F. Kieffer. Charles S. Mumper, DEALER IN FURNITURE, PICTURE FRAMES OF ALL SORTS REPAIR WORK DONE PROMPTLY I will also BUY or EXCHANGE any SECOND-HAND FURNITURE No. 4 Chambersburg street, Gettysburg, Pa. D. J. Swartz, DEALER IN COUNTRY PRODUCE, GROCERIES, CIGARS AND TOBACCO. GETTYSBURG. —IS— OHLER BRO.'S RESTAURANT, First National Bank Bld'g. The place to eat the best Ice Cream. QUICK LUNCH and Oysters in season. Your Photographer, If not, why not? 41 Baltimore St., Gettysburg. FLEMMING I BAIR'S LIVERY, Baltimore Street, First Square, Gettysburg, Pa. Competent Guides for all parts of the Battlefield. Arrange-ments by telegram or letter. Dock Bock 257. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. WINDSOR HOTEL, W. T. BRUBAKEB, Manager. Midway between Broad St. Station and Reading Terminal on Filbert St. A convenient and homelike place to stay while in the city shopping. An excellent restaurant where good service combines with low prices. BOOMS $1.00 PER DAY AND UP. The only moderate priced hotel of reputation and consequence in PHILADELPHIA. The Modern Steam Laundry . . OF YORK . . Offers the COLLEGE STUDENTS first-class work at Special Low Prices. E. C. STOUFFER, Local Agt. C. D. SMITH, Prop. The Baltimore Medical College Preliminary Fall Course begins September ist. Regular Winter Course begins September 20th. Liberal teaching facilities ; Modern college buildings; Comfortable lecture hall and amphitheatres ; Large and complete equipped laboratories; Capacious hospital and dispensary; Lying-in department for teaching clinical obstetrics ; Large clinics. Send for catalogue. Address DAVID STREETT, M. D., Dean, N. E. Cor. Madison St., and Linden Ave., Baltimore, Md. COMPILER IMPRINT ON JOB WORK MEANS TASTY WORK CAREFULLY DONE. MENU CARDS WINDOW" POSTERS LETTER HEADS ENVELOPES DANCE CARDS TICKETS Programs of all kinds. Everything the College Man wants in Paper and Ink. Specially designed work. Latest Effects in Paper, done in Colors along lines of College Men's Associations. Catalog and Book work. The Gettysburg Compiler will keep old and new students in touch with town and college life.

Issue 64.4 of the Review for Religious, 2005. ; Praying Calling Rehgious Life Perspectives The Spirit QUARTERLY 64.4 2O05 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we ~y to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul VI said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ \\feb 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. ©2005 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library, clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must hear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~ gournalof Catholic S~iri~uali~ eli 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 .Clare Boehmer ASC Steve Erspamer SM Kaddeen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishoi~ Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukerifis CSJ QUARTERLY 64.4 2005 contents prisms 340 Prisms 342 355 praying Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation James A. Rafferty details the unique participation of Mary in the Eucharistic sacrifice of Jesus, a proximity to Eucharistic presence that envelops her entire being. Personal Prayer and Group Reflection From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation Ernest E. Larkin OCarm provides a personal account of his study and experience of centering prayer and contemplation and Christian Meditation. Reflection Questions 369 380 calling Rekindling the Fire: Vocation Efforts Sefin D. Sammon FMS writes a letter to his own brothers to encourage practical measures to be adopted for encouraging vocations to religious life. Reflection Questions Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth Leo J. Heriot SDB shares the dream of the young John Bosco that continues to shape the Salesian apostolate and system of education. Review for Religious 386 405 r Oi ious p rspe ivss The Council as Catalyst Elizabeth McDonough OP gives a snapshot picture from her own experience of living religious life in the light of the happening of Vatican Council II. Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney Christian Raab OSB suggests that a monk's vow of stability offers the opportunity to transform one's life instead of becoming stuck in the repetition of daily life. 410 spirit Led by the Spirit: St. Augustine Andrew Ryder SCJ presents the three movements in Augustine's life that are key to understanding his doctrine on the Holy Spirit. 424 429 436 443 Scripture Scope: Mark's Gospel and Jesus' Radical Humanity Canonical Counsel: Canonical Federation Book Reviews Indexes 64.4 200Y prisms Te main character in a popu-lar TV show called "Joan of Arcadia" finds that God speaks to her. God is always surprising her by speaking through quite different people-- sometimes young and at other times old or in-between, sometimes male and at other times female. This young woman is portrayed as a very ordinary person, but her experiences of God seem to set her apart. If we were to be asked where most consistently we experience God, I doubt that many of us would say that we hear God speaking to us. In fact, we tend to be wary of people who hear "voices" or God speaking to them. Yet the God of the Old and New Testaments is a communicator. We identify the scriptures as the word of God. Christian prayer has always been understood as a dialogue, with both God and ourselves speaking and listening to each other. What we are sometimes slow to recog-nize is that God communicates not just in words. In the whole world of creation, God is speaking. Our personal talents, our gifts, our traits tell us that God has loved us personally into existence. People have always found the majesty of God in the surging of the ocean's Review for Religious waves, in the soaring heights of mountain peaks, and in the rosy-fingered morning sun. Certain people coming into our lives make real to us the call, the concern, the compassion of God. Their very presence makes us feel touched by God. We Catholics have always held our saints in great esteem and affection. They continue to touch us with God's presence. We remember our dead because they too, strikingly holy or not, have spoken to us of God's care. We ask for their help because they relate us to God. And so God speaks to us not only in the sacred words of Scripture, but also through people and things and events of our everyday environment. Modern psychology has made us aware that we com-municate through body language. God, too, uses body language to talk to us. Every time we celebrate Christmas we can "hear" what God is saying to us through the baby Jesus. No one is frightened by a baby--seeing no stern judge or a wrathful and punishing monarch. The baby Jesus reaches out and hands himself over to us in great freedom and trust and love. This baby in a manger-- Jesus--is God speaking. The wonder of Christmas brings home to us how, first among all .the other ways of com-municating, God's incarnate Word speaks to us. What we need to observe in a more daily way is the silence of a Christmas night so that we can watch and listen. Perhaps that is our New Year's resolution. David L. Fleming SJ ES. The Review for Religious staff and board mem-bers pray for a holy and blessed Advent and Christmas seasons for all of our readers. 64.4 2005 JAMES A. RAFFERTY Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation praying This reflection looks at the relationship between Mary and the Eucharistic Lord. It attempts to show, in particular, Mary's intimate presence to the Eucharist. As a woman at the center of God's love for all humanity, Mary may properly be identified as Woman of the Eucharist, the title both reverential and affectionate that Pope John Paul employs in his encyclical Ecclesia de Eucharistia. This title is not merely a clever the-ological phrase about Mary symbolizing the entire church by her faith and receptive coop-eration. The title is about Mary's profound spir-itual relationship with her Son. Attuned as no other to the intimate communion deep within the Trinity, Mary singularly understands Jesus' Eucharistic heart as it embraces all humanity in choosing Calvary, where self-surrendering love is displayed in shocking degree. James A. Rafferty, a priest of the Diocese of Scranton, is chaplain and a campus minister at Marywood University; 2300 Adams Avenue; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18509. Review for Religious More than a theological category or doctrinal for-mulation, Mary, Woman of Eucharist, sings the hymn of one woman's surrender to the divine Love that gently invites people to become more like itself. The sacra-mental Eucharist we celebrate today has its peak expres-sion in the Last Supper that opens the original drama of the paschal mystery, but Jesus' Eucharistic offering is not limited to those hours of his life. Rather, his entire being may be described as Eucharist--sacrificial self-offering emboldened by an enormous gratitude. Mary's life, too, chants her Son's Eucharistic hymn of praise and self-gift long before she accompanies him to the moment when he hands over all that he is on the cross. Eucharistic tones reverberate in Mary's immaculate con-ception, in the annunciation, in her hearing her Son pro-claim the kingdom, in her presence at Calvary, and in her sharing in the Easter glory. The first Eucharistic moment in Mary's life, as in everyone's, is the moment of conception. Like everyone else, Mary receives her unique and unrepeatable iden-tity as nothing other than gift, gift to herself and to the world. Births celebrate the overflowing of love from the Trinity's heart into time and space, letting itself be known in the life of another. Life itself means receiving what we cannot give or produce on our own. This divine gift is always more splendid than cellular interactions and anatomical functions. The Spirit of God breathing into clay sacramentalizes the loving communion of the Creator with the created. Physical existence, even veiled in the womb, announces the divine creative imagination that renders each life sacred by bearing the image and likeness of the Triune God. While every new human life arouses awe and thank-fulness in the presence of this loving gift from God, the humble daughter of Israel has an unprecedented 343 64.4 2005 Rafferty * Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation God creates Mary as one ready to welcome, grace without resistance, Eucharistic glow from her immaculate conception. The child of Anne and Joachim receives from her first instant the totally unmerited gift of being preserved by God from all stain of original sin. God creates Mary as one ready to welcome grace without resistance. Her very dis-position is to seek always what is the delight of her Creator and Lord. In her immaculate heart Mary bows before the tender stirrings of the Spirit of Yahweh. She never lurches away from the Lord in willful-ness. Her submission to God is like the strings of a peerless violin at the touch of a skilled violinist. The instrument exists precisely to give resonance to the master's melody and fill the air with music. The violinist's touch is not subjugation. It frees the instrument to be its fullest self. Mary cooperates wholly in all that God desires for her. We pray during the liturgy for something of her receptivity when we say, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed." Although these words originate in Jesus' encounter with a centurion concerned for his servant's health, the litur-gical context may suggest Zacchaeus, delighted to wel-come Jesus to his home and almost happy at not concealing how much his soul has needed tidying up. As we approach the altar to receive the gift of Jesus' Body and Blood, it seems that Jesus wishes to evoke within us Peter's change of heart: first refusing to let Jesus wash his feet and then eagerly conceding at Jesus' insistence. Again, the Immaculate Conception is a permanent stance of receptivity. We seek that disposition in our own prepa-ration for Communion. Review for Religious The Eucharistic motif appears in Mary's life also in her obscurity and poverty. Her simple, humble existence in a tiny village reflects the Eucharist. There Mary depends utterly on God. Mary experiences a real, not just a romantic, poverty. She feels with all who are poor the realities of hunger, cold, and powerlessness. For her the cry of the poor is not a hypothetical, poetic verse; it echoes her authentic abandonment to the Lord's provi-dence in situations where human efforts do not accom-plish much. There is more here than a passive resolve to endure difficulty and want. Mary finds comfort and assur-ance in a faithful God who has pledged never to aban-don the people he has chosen to be his own. As a woman of actual poverty, Mary relates to God as the provider of her daily needs. She carries within her a practiced confi-dence that God attends to her hunger and thirst, a heart-felt trust that breaks into the praise of the Magnificat. She lives out of the consciousness that it is God who feeds, nourishes, and sustains. Her poverty expresses sol-idarity with every child of the Covenant who awaits God's saving action. Such indomitable hope, passed on across centuries, has been planted deep in Mary's heart. Mary's Eucharistic living is evident in the moment when divinity unites with human flesh at her consent, "Let it be done to me according to your word." The Lord instituted the sacramental Eucharist for us to con-sume and thereby have the divine life pulsing strongly within us. Mary's "yes" to the invitation of God fore-shadows our "amen" at being offered the Eucharist. Amen here means "Yes, I believe it is the Body of Christ, and, yes, I wish to receive it." It is implicitly a consent that the Body of Christ broken, offered, received, and consumed may effect a change in us who partake.of it. As believers we surrender before the mystery in a way similar to Mary's "Let it be done to me." Like Mary at the annun- 64.4 2005 Rafferty * Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation 346 ciation, in the Eucharist we implicitly desire that the Trinity take over our life so that our identity, fused with Jesus himself, lets itself be guided by God the Father. When the angel appears to Mary with the message that she will conceive and bear a son who will be called Son of the Most High, she perceives the compassion radiating from the heart of God. This radiance accom-panies the self-surrender of the God who comes to dwell in flesh. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, Mary is drawn into God's plan, which includes Calvary. In the powerful current of paschal love, she more than anyone else glimpses the yearning of God to heal the rift that sin causes in the relationship between Creator and creature. Every act of God in the salvific economy bears a paschal orientation, and Mary intuits the paschal horizon of God's project. That is, she senses the truth of what she meets in the annunciation--a self-offering Love that knows no limitation. Lacking the vocabulary of Trinitarian theology, Mary nonetheless encounters the Father offering his Son in the power of the Holy Spirit. She experiences deep within her the distinct energies of the Trinitarian per-sons, as if eavesdropping on the dialogue of the Trinity's plan for her. Mary knows, then, a Father sharing his Son with her, and she knows this contemplatively in the depths of her being. Mary's pregnancy does not begin as a mere procedural accomplishment, as valued posses-sions are handed over to faithful friends for safekeeping. Because the Spirit of God fills her, Mary senses the meaning of this act for the Father. The Father is hand-ing over to her, and through her to all humanity, that which is most precious to him, his beloved Son. Mary knows this with her whole being. She knows, too, the Son's active participation in this gift-giving. Before the throne of the Father in heaven, Review for Religious the Son exercises the characteristic obedience that he will manifest in the world even to death. Mary'sfiat opens the path for the eternal Word to enact his incarnation in space and time. The Son exchanges the omnipotence of divine majesty for confinement in the womb of a young woman. The Second Person of the Trinity assumes human nature in its meekest form and progresses accord-ing to the physiological laws of the human condi-tion. Mary, of course, does not, by virtue of her experience of the annun-ciation, have unrestricted access to the mind of God. She remains thor-oughly finite. Like every other human being, she knows only what she can experience. There pre-cisely do we find the glory in the incarnation, the splendid miracle that Mary is the first to perceive--God revealed in human frailty. Mary is present to the moment when the Son clothes himself in the frailty, dependence, poverty, and even death that mark every human life. The words of consecration so familiar in the Eucharistic Prayer are already subtly present at the annunciation. "You will conceive and bear a son." "How can this be?" "The power of the Most High will over-shadow you." It is as if all of creation--a suffering world yearning for the healing that it is helpless to achieve on its own--has been imploring the Holy Spirit, in one great wordless epidesis, to fill the virginal womb with life. And God responds by making himself present in history for children and adults to see, hear, and touch--and be Mary is present to the moment when the Son clothes himself in the ~ailty, dependence, poverty, and even death that mark every human life. 347 64.4 200Y Rafferty ¯ Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation touched by. Mary's response is personal and collective. She speaks on behalf of a wounded race. Generation after generation of messianic hope permeates the Jewish faith. In Mary and others like Anna and Simeon, this hope is not merely a passive waiting and watching. More than that, it is an ever intensifying desire, calling upon God fervently and ceaselessly from amid the welter of the human condition. Here is the imploring epiclesis to which the Father answers in the incarnation of his Son. To this intensification of Jewish prayer may be added the human hearts all over the world humbly defenseless under the weight and the stings of evil. Moved by their sobs and their silence, God intervenes decisively. Through the Holy Spirit and Mary's yes, God's Son becomes present in her womb. This is similar to what occurs in the liturgy. Mary offers herself in conjunction with the cries of a people lost in darkness, and the Holy Spirit completes her offering infinitely by bringing about the presence of Jesus in her womb. The divine love in this human form is Light itself amid earth's darkness. Surrendering himself to the human condition, the Son of God encompasses the human race's sad history in himself. He submits himself to the force of evil that pummels, confuses, and obliterates. At the first moment made possible by Mary's assent, the world begins to hear the Son whisper, "Take this, all of you, and eat it, this is my body; take and drink, this is my blood, given up for you." Mary silently possesses more than an inkling of the self-surrender that God envi-sions. The Son empties himself by taking on human nature, and Mary nourishes humanity's self-sacrificing Savior towards his birth. She and he both anticipate his self-offering on the cross, the offering that rises from burial into resurrection a~l is present each time the Eucharist is celebrated. Mary's praying heart delights in Review for Religious the wonder, adoration, and gratitude with which she accompanies the Child she carries. With maternal love she worships thankfully the Presence within her in a unique Communion. The proclamation of the kingdom of God, too, is redolent of the F~ucharistic. In the Spirit, all grace of whatever form moves human hearts to Communion. People's gifts or fruits of prayer come to naught unless they seek and find some externalization in unity, in Communion. The Spirit is Communio, and all grace drives toward perfect fulfillment in the heavenly ban-quet, the wedding feast of the Lamb, for which the litur-gical sacrifice prepares us. No wonder, then, that the New Testament's Eucharistic imagery appears in the ear-liest moments of Jesus' public ministry. At the Jordan, Jesus, who is without sin, does not accept John's baptism as a gesture of solidarity with weaker brothers and sisters. He is maturely aware of his right relationship with Yahweh. His decision to approach the Baptist, like his acceptance of the cross, manifests publicly the full sur-render to the Father's will that he has made in prayer many times. Here at the Jordan, Jesus offers himself unreservedly to his Father's plan. He pledges himself to the kingdom that John has heralded. In sublime intimacy the Son prays, "Take this, Father, it is yours." He hands over to the Father all that he receives: his body, his energy, his desire, his relationships; his future. At the Jordan, at the proper time, the Son relives on earth his own unseen choice in eternity to become incarnate. His Father accepts his self-offering and blesses it with the epiphany that confirms the beloved Son's identity. As Jesus undertakes his public ministry, right from the beginning he gathers a community from people who have little in common other than their friendship with Jesus and the willingness to risk being in his company. 64.4 200~ Rafferty * Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation Mary playsa role in , this formation of Christ's followers inlto a Eucharistic coinmunityi Jesus does not announce the kingdom as some exhila-rating new ideology or political vision. Rather, he forms relationships and then sees to it that they form rela-tionships with one another. And he gets them sharing in his own relationship, his own communion, with the Father. Today the Eucharistic table is the special place where the Father reaches out to his sons and daughters and where they seek the deep unity among themselves that they find occurs only when God is in their midst. In celebrating the Eucharist, Christians accompany Jesus and attend to his words and actions, and he forms the church in his paschal love just as he did with his first disciples. Mary, Woman of the Eucharist, plays a role in this formation of Christ's followers into a Eucharistic com-munity. Here this does not mean intuitions of their rit-ual participation in the Mass. Rather, it means learning a new way of being loved by God. Their souls are being awakened to tolerate and then to rejoice that Jesus comes not to be served but to serve. The Spirit is slowly instructing them in the language of God's heart, which speaks most eloquently in the silence of Good Friday. But, preparing for that day, Jesus brings his friends and coworkers home with him to Nazareth and to Mary. They have left home and livelihood to stay with him. They are good people, but they carry the soot of the world with them. Their hands and their hearts are stained with the grime of laboring in a world pol-luted by greed, prejudice, dishonesty, violence, and cynicism. Review for Religious As if in a retreat in preparation for the work of the kingdom, the disciples notice the warmth of pure love between Jesus and his mother. The home at Nazareth serves as a chapel of adoration, of deep devotion, where the love that the graced human spirit is capable of becomes visible. In Jesus' relating with Mary, there is no hardness of heart, no defensiveness, no secrecy, no inse-curity. The disciples could not have resisted being affected by the goodness of this mother and this Son. Long before Mary and John's presence on Calvary, Jesus is already drawing his friends into Mary's universal moth-erhood. At the same time, Mary quietly rejoices as she watches the glow of Trinitarian communion dawn in the lives of others. As the church begins to form, Mary joy-fully waits at the center to share what she has received. Eucharistic nuances continue to pervade Mary's dis-cipleship of her Son, especially in her loyal, fearless par-ticipation in his death and resurrection. The full meaning of the Via Crucis opens up before people who contem-plate it with Mary's eyes. Mary's consent to the angel at the annunciation reaches its climax in her yes beneath the cross, where her heart, united with her Son's, is in perfect obedience to the Father. Mary's obedience is not a horrified resignation to the inevitable, nor a resentful passivity in the face of something she desperately wants to alter. Mary cooperates in the sacrifice of Jesus. Indeed, as Jesus struggles toward the altar of the cross, Mary's spirit accompanies him with the prayer that nothing dis-suade him from his g0al. Whatever dark lies, taunts, or tortuous subtleties the tempter hurled at him in Gethsemane, Mary, in luminous contrast, gently urges him not to give up. Her intense love for Jesus cannot wish him to be other than who he is. In her Son's selfless desire to give himself away out of love, amid the hor-rific brutality of Calvary, Mary gazes upon the heart of 64.4 200Y Rafferty ¯ Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation the Trinity revealed in human history. Wondrously graced, she embraces both the incomparable grief of a woman who witnesses her son's execution and the awe of one who witnesses a compassion as vast as God him-self. Jesus gives forth his last breath, every last spark of energy in his being. For humaniv ~'s sake he surrenders to Mary embraces both the incomparable grief of a woman who Witnesses her son's execution and the awe of one: who witnesses a compassion as vast as God himself. the Father all that he has and is, and Mary watches the birth of a New Covenant. In her excruciating sorrow there is an unshak-able joy. What can possibly convey the significance of her tears shed that day? Hers are tears of pain and also over-whelming delight at a mystery so profound it takes an eternity to contemplate it. Mary does not impede or resist the cross of her Son. She lives and moves in the Spirit of the Father who hands over his beloved Son. Mary deeply comprehends the Trinity's sacrificial love. She is the first human being to understand all that the Eucharistic sacrifice entails. Even more incredible, she prays for everyone to have the courage to approach the sacrifice of Jesus and with her to desire its fulfill-ment in a personal assent to Jesus' self-offering. The Eucharist derives its meaning and power from Jesus' pas-sion, death, and resurrection. Mary teaches the church how to adore the Lord at the foot of the cross, where blood and water flowed from the Savior's pierced side. Jesus' disciples, even his closest friends, had to learn of Review for Religious the empty tomb before their despair turned to hope, but Mary is deeply consoled even as she cradles Jesus' lifeless body in her arms. The resurrection and Pentecost show the redeeming power of the paschal mystery. So do present-day Eucharists. They do it not simply because Christ died on the cross, but because he lives now and forever, some-thing our faith knows. Through her deep faith Mary is already disposed for Easter before her risen Son ever appears. For the faithful woman who can see more than loss and emptiness at Calvary, there is more than the silence of the grave. There is a confident communion with the Father, whose unwavering love Mary knows well. Her soul has felt the tender power of the Spirit bringing to birth what human imagination cannot fathom. Mary has learned well to trust in more than what her senses reveal. She is the authentic contemplative, familiar with the Spirit's movement, and it is not a spirit of despair. She remains a mother in those dark hours. She consoles and encourages the confused, disheartened disciples until the Paraclete fills their hearts with the light of Truth and with Pentecostal fire. Deep faith in the Risen One sees more than any eyes can see. It sees that death itself is not the tragic loss it appears to be, but is the last measure of the prelude to the divine oratorio of eternal life. In the Eucharist, too, participants see and hear more than their senses per-ceive. The bread is no longer bread, the wine no longer wine, but the living presence of Jesus Christ, who makes of his members a living communion. It is Mary who leads the church to the Eucharistic Lord. Hers is no mere external presence or observance or performance. She is intimately involved in her Son's love for the world. Her heart comes to us with the Love that overflows the heart of God. 64.4 2005' Rafferty ¯ Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation Sources Pope John Paul II. Encyclical Letter Ecclesia de Eucbaristia. 17 April 2003. Corbon, Jean. Tbe Wellspring of V~ord~ip, trans. Matthew J. O'Connell. New York: Paulist Press, 1988. Reprinted by Wipf and Stock Publishers. Personal Prayer In the context of the Eucharistic celebration, we might take up the following scripture passages for contemplation: Luke 1:26-38 John 19:25-37 Group Reflection In what ways has this article on "Mary, Woman of the Eucharist" opened up new insights and apprecia-tion for the Mass in our daily living? Review for Religious ERNEST E. LARKIN From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation T~nPaper is a bit of narrative theology, something y personal journey over the last twenty-five or thirty years trying to practice meditation and contem-plation. My account begins in midstream of my religious life, in the mid 1970s, with my introduction to centering prayer. Basically the journey has been from centering and centering prayer to Christian Meditation, the prayer discipline of John Main (+1982). Three Ways to the Center First, the point of departure. What do I mean by cen-tering and centering prayer? These .terms have become familiar and clearly defined today. It was not always so. Centering and centering prayer meant different things to different people in the 1960s and 1970s. An example is the article by Thomas E. Clarke sJ in the British journal The Way titled "Finding Grace at the Centre.''1 The title may be familiar, because it named a collection of Ernest E. Larkin OCarm wrote for us last in July-August 2003. His address is St. Agnes Catholic Church; 1954 North 24th Street; Phoenix, Arizona 85008. 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation essays on centering prayer published by the Trappists in 1978 and again by Skylight Paths Publishing in 2002. The whole article was reprinted except for the last two pages, which at the time represented one of the chief contributions of the article. So I have a quarrel with the editors for deleting the pages and not indicating they did so. Apparently they wanted to highlight the one form of centering prayer they were espousing in the booklet, and so dropped two other prayer forms that Clarke was presenting as ways to the center. In the article Clarke presented a philo-sophical exposition of centering and then posed the ques-tion: How does one make the journey to the center? His answer was threefold. The first way was classical center-ing prayer, the way of dark faith, which proceeds beyond images and concepts and seeks to rest in the indwelling God. The other two ways to the center used imagination and feelings; they were the prayer of images and fantasy and the practice of the examen of consciousness. All three were ways to the center, ways to dispose the soul for the great gift of contemplation. Together they offered a rich and broadly based prayer life. Teachers of centering prayer should have applauded the connecting of centering prayer with other forms of active prayer. Centering prayer is contemplative in intent, but active in method, as are all forms of meditation. Centering prayer was not supposed to replace lectio div-ina, nor to become one's total prayer life. Centering prayer is a spiritual exercise to deepen one's whole spir-itual life, animating, for example, the liturgy and one's devotions. Connecting the three ways put flesh and blood on centering prayer by acknowledging that imagination and human effort can help in the process of centering. Clarke's paper stated a simple and even obvious fact, Review for Religious namely, that the search for contemplation, especially in beginnings, is not an abstract act; it invokes images and thoughts even while it strives to get beyond them. All three ways converge to the center. This was a welcome reminder in the early days of centering prayer. I remember how the insight thrilled me. I talked about the distinctions with Father John Kane, a Redemptorist, who founded a contemplative house of prayer in Tucson, Arizona. We both agreed that the article was a breakthrough because it made room for the imagination at least in the beginnings of con-templative prayer. The search for contemplation was not restricted to forced abstract search; one did not have to empty the mind. Centering prayer was one way to contemplation and a good way, but it was not the only way. Clarke's article contextualized the search for contemplation and freed it from a one-track pursuit based on theoretical textbook definitions. Before this time I had a philosophically correct but pastorally deficient understanding of contemplation as imageless prayer. I thought "Ignatian contemplation," for example, which consists in reliving a gospel story, was a misnomer; the process was meditation, not con-templation. I did not cotton to Morton Kelsey's thesis that the imagination ruled the prayer practice in the church in the first millennium, and that abstract con-templation in the mode of John of the Cross was Johnny-come- lately in the second millennium. Kelsey argued this position in his popular The Other Side of Silence. To my mind, contemplation had no room for images; they Have we had a philosophically correct but pastorally deficient understanding of contemplation as imageless prayer? 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation belonged to discursive prayer, the way of meditation, which was a lesser species of mental prayer. But here was Tom Clarke connecting the imagination with centering, thereby broadening horizons in contemplative prayer. The three ways of centering were a significant help to me. Two years earlier, in 1975, I had made a thirty-day Ignatian retreat and came away with the resolution to spend an hour each morning in mental prayer. I was faithful to the hour, but I lacked method. My prayer was amorphous. I read and reflected, I pondered, mused, stirred affections, and made resolutions. I also centered and sat for long periods of silence. But there was no particular order in my pondering. After two years of struggle to be faithful to the hour without a clear methodology, my prayer had became dry and difficult. I "white-knuckled" my prayer, holding on to the bench to fill out the hour. All this may have been a species of the determinada determinacion of Teresa of Avila, but it was probably closer to the "zelus sine scientia corruit" of St. Bernard: "Zeal without knowledge destroys." How long could I hold on? Only the grace of God kept me from giving up on the hour. My efforts in the hour were the same as my practice in the two daily periods of formal meditation in my Carmelite community over the years. These two peri-ods were shorter, usually a half hour each, and I was able to handle them, though somewhat haphazardly. Because they were amorphous, I subsequently looked on them disparagingly. I thought I had wasted a lot of time in my mental prayer. I do not think that way now. I have come to take a more benign view. I realize with Woody Allen that ninety-five percent of life as well as of prayer is showing up. If we are there, putting in time with the Lord, the Lord will do the rest. We should not exag-gerate the role of method. Review for Retigious But method helps. The three ways of Tom Clarke supplied a format for my contemplative prayer. I would do twenty minutes of classical centering prayer, twenty minutes of reflection on the day's readings, and then after Mass twenty minutes ofjournaling. I did not char-acterize the imaginative parts of my prayer--the biblical meditation and consciousness examen--as contempla-tive, but I saw them as part of my pursuit of contempla-tion. Moreover, the active prayers gave permission for elements of imagination to enter my centering prayer. At this time I made a study of the prayer of St. Teresa of Avila in her early premystical years to determine how she employed the imagination in her beginning con-templative prayer.2 She later called this "practice of prayer" active recollection. In the paper I argued that the imagination played a significant role in her practice. Her prayer was her own making, hence active in form; but it was contemplative since her whole effort was to rest in the deep personal realization of the Divine Indwelling. This was her whole prayer. Teresa called it "re-presenting Christ within." Commentators sometimes incorrectly interpret this phrase to mean the imagina-tive recall of some mystery in Christ's life, such as of his being scourged at the pillar. The imaginative recall is part of the prayer, but not its heart, since the recall is only the refocusing of the person in moments of wan-dering. The remembrance of an image from the passion serves the same function as the holy word in centering prayer. The holy word does not detract from the con-templative character of centering prayer any more than the image in active recollection. I concluded my paper on Teresa by saying that her prayer was a mixture of imageless and imaged centering prayer. Today I agree that the term centering prayer should be reserved to the prayer of imageless dark faith. 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 3,60 This primary thrust, however, leaves room for some imagination in the practice of this prayer. Teresa's active recollection, which can rightly be called centering prayer, was both apophatic, that is, beyond imagining and thinking, and kataphatic, that is, with a role for the imagination. These insights into Teresa's prayer confirmed Clarke's suggestion and allowed me to accept a minor but real role for the imag-ination in my own practice and theorizing about con-templative prayer. As late as the year 2000, I was still experimenting with a role for the imagination in my contemplative prayer. I was on another long retreat at the Camaldolese monastery at Big Sur in California. For five weeks I prac-ticed Christian Meditation several times each day. I described three different experiences of my contempla-tive prayer in an article in Review for Religious in 2001.3 Two of the patterns I reported engaged the imagination to a small extent. These points about the imagination and contemplation are not irrelevant; they continue to occupy the attention of writers.4 The Move to Christian Meditation The centering and centering prayer so far described were the focus of my efforts at daily mental prayer for some fifteen years. I did not, however, practice it twice daily as was specified by Contemplative Outreach under the leadership of Thomas Keating. The two periods of twenty to thirty minutes, morning and evening, are essential for the discipline of centering prayer. These periods are catalysts for one's prayer life. They are like workouts in a physical-health regimen, and their role is to bring one's life to a deeper level in one's spirit. The outcome is the goal of contemplation in Carmelite terminology. Review for Religious In the mid 1990s I switched my prayer practice to Christian Meditation, a similar but different form of cen-tering developed by John Main, an Irish Benedictine from England. I did so mainly because I was not satisfied with my practice of classical centering prayer. Christian Meditation is promoted by the World Community for Christian Meditation, headed by Laurence Freeman OSB. The major difference between centering prayer and Christian Meditation is the holy word versus the mantra. "Holy word" and "mantra" are not synonyms. Their dif-ference specifies the two forms of contemplative prayer. Christian Meditation repeats the mantra, usually the biblical prayer "ma-ra-na-tha," which means "Come, Lord," from the begin-ning to the end of the prayer. The holy word, on the other hand, is not repeated continu-ously, but only as needed to renew the consent to the Divine Presence. The holy word expresses the will of the person to rest quietly, silently, in the Lord. The mantra, on the other hand, carries the prayer. John Main does not tire of saying that the mantra is the prayer. It creates the silence that is emptiness and open-ness before God, the silence that invites the Divine Presence. The mantra nurtures the beatitude "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8). Purity of heart and contemplation are the two hinges of the door of the mantra. The mantra is not magic, but a simple device to shut down ordinary rational activity in favor of silence. How would we explain the major difference between centering prayer and Christian Meditation as the holy word versus the mantra? 361 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 362 Since I switched my daily practice to Christian Meditation ten years ago, I have been faithful to the two times each day. My personal preference for Christian Meditation is not a condemnation of centering prayer; the same fruits and benefits are available in both forms. The choice of one or other of the two disciplines is a personal matter. I feel that centering prayer has a closer affinity with Teresa of Avila than with John of the Cross and that Christian Meditation has a closer affinity with John than with Teresa. I base these opinions on the sim-ilarity between active recollection and centering prayer, and a similarity of absolutes between the nada and the todo in John and the call to kenosis or self-emptying in Christian Meditation. In the final analysis the two approaches are more alike than different. For this reason I have studied them together and emphasized what is common to them. I have published several articles on the two forms, which I hope to gather into a book. The leaders in the two movements work closely together and see their ministries as parallel. One example of this close collaboration is a prayer center in Phoenix called the Cornerstone. It is sponsored by both movements, which share the same space in a former convent in the Carmelite parish of St. Agnes. The Cornerstone offers programs that are sometimes common to both groups and sometimes specific to one of them. It is lay orga-nized and lay directed. The Genius of Christian Meditation I have come to see Christian Meditation as a com-panion piece, a "how to" addition to the teaching of St. John of the Cross on the passage from meditation to contemplation. This area is one of his specialties. He defines in precise terms both meditation and contem-plation and why the transition from one state to the other Review for Religious can be difficult if not traumatic. Meditation for him is a rational activity, the work of the imagination and the discursive reason; it is active and self-directed. Contemplation is passive and receptive of the gift of the love and presence of God. The transition from one state to the other can be disturbing. Beginning contempla-tion may look like a step backward, even total loss. The old way of meditation is no longer appealing or even possible, and the new way of contemplation is not self-evident. The experience is the passive dark night of the senses. It is a great grace, but easily mistaken and open to misunderstanding. John gives his famous three signs to authenticate the state as well as detailed instruction on the conduct to be followed. In discursive meditation one deals with concrete indi-vidual acts, striving to remove the bad ones and to pro-mote good ones. So meditation is analyzing, evaluating, making choices and resolutions. The soul is like a win-dowpane, St. John says, and the work of meditation is to remove the smudges of bad habits and replace them with acts and habits that are bright with the light of Christ. The light of Christ is faith. The window pane is lighted up by faith-motivated activity. Over time the win-dow becomes clear and the soul purified in the matter of concrete choices. The light of faith shines through with fullness, simplicity, and wholeness. This is the light of contemplation. The light is always there, John of the Cross says. It is part of the state of grace. The perception of the light, however, is dependent on being rid of delib-erate sinful habits. John writes as follows: This light is never lacking to the soul, but, because of creature forms and veils that weigh on it and cover it, the light is never infused. If individuals would elimi-nate these impediments and veils and live in pure nakedness and poverty of spirit, as we will explain 64.4 200~ Larkin * From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 364 later, their soul in its simplicity and purity would be immediately transformed into simple and pure Wisdom, the Son of God. (Ascent 2.15.4) Thus these graces, when received, are "infused light and love," that is, infused contemplation. The way of con-templation is self-awareness of this new state of being. One simply opens one's eyes and sees and basks in the love and presence of God. At first there will be a going back and forth between meditation and contemplation. John of the Cross gives detailed advice on how to recognize the times for the one or the other, that is, when to continue to meditate and when to rest in the contemplative light and love. His teaching is renowned for its clarity and effectiveness for spiritual direction and retains its place in the life of every budding contemplative. But it is a complicated teaching. Along comes John Main who sees meditation and contemplation in conti-nuity with each other and as one process. The prayer or discipline of Christian Meditation is one dynamic that begins with the mantra and stays with it through multi-ple experiences of God's love. Contemplation is the awareness of Abba's love for me, who am bonded with the Son in the love of the Holy Spirit. The contemplative grows in the appreciation of this love and gets ever more deeply in touch with the knowledge and love that the Tr!nity showers on the world. There is communio, koinonia, participation in the reality of God and his cre-ation. This communion is unitive knowledge, of subject and subject inhering in each other. It is not dualistic knowledge, from the outside, leaving subject and object apart from one another. It is not any particular psycho-logical experience. There is at-oneness, a "common union" or communion, in which the Trinity and the human being enter into what Teresa of Avila called Review for Religious union, namely, "two things becoming one." Communion is the ontological reality; contemplation adds awareness and attention. Not every experience of Christian Meditation is infused contemplation such as John of the Cross has in mind. But every experience is communion and eventually will bring the fullness of contemplation. The commitment to Christian Meditation is a com-mitment to a way of life. The way is always the same; it is the way of the mantra from beginning to end. The goal of the prayer is without limits. One stops saying the mantra only when one is reduced to silence. These are moments of special grace that John of the Cross calls "oblivion" (Living Flame 3.3 5). One resumes saying the mantra as soon as the silence is recognized, because that is the sign that the special mystical grace has passed. John Main's program is one of utter simplicity. He does not stress, though he may acknowledge in theory, the abstract differences between meditation and con-templation or the different degrees of contemplation. But he treats them as one spiritual practice and says explicitly that meditation, meditative prayer, contem-plation, and contemplative prayer are all synonyms. No need to be concerned about essences, he seems to say; the important thing is to grow in purity of heart and recep-tivity to divine grace. The journey is the same in both John of the Cross and John Main, but it is described from different viewpoints. The older John presents objective theology in the manner of the scholastics; the younger John has made the turn to the subject, and his exposition is experiential and practical. Laurence Freeman remarks that John Main's purpose was to start people on the journey and let experience of the prayer teach the rest. The one task proposed is the mantra. The mantra does not deal with obstacles one by one or even supply building blocks for a spiritual edi- 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 566 rice. It silences the mind, emptying it of its contents. The silence makes room for the Spirit to take over. "Be," says John Main," and you are in the Spirit."s The Spirit is already there with Father and Son in the Divine Indwelling. If the soul is silent and receptive, the Spirit will pray there beyond images and thoughts, in sighs too deep for words (Rm 8:26). The Spirit will do this because the soul is open and ready and God wants that mutual indwelling even more than the soul does who is sincerely seeking God. John Main's simple method frees the person so that the presence of the Trinity can come alive and be actualized. When there is space and freedom, the meditator is caught up in the prayer of Jesus. That prayer is the one and only prayer in the world since the Incarnation, because it is the love between Father and Son and envelops all of creation. Faithful meditators are woven into that salvit]c love. The journey with the Son to the Father will traverse the stages of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross. Christian Meditation will be the vehicle, the discipline to get one going and to help one stay on the path. These are astounding claims for Christian Meditation. Their jus-tification is the beatitude "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8). The silence of the mantra produces the purity of heart, and the reward of purity of heart is the love of God, of people, and of the world found in the gift of contemplation. How does silence accomplish this twofold task? By allowing one to escape from the false self by placing one beyond the toils of ego and the world it creates, by free-ing one from the imprisonment of false desires. This healing produces purity of heart. The new freedom allows one to go deeper into the spirit, the domain of the Trinity. The reality of this state is primary and comes before awareness and appreciation. The reality is called Review for Religious communio or participation in the life of God; the aware-ness is contemplation. The Spirit will give us contem-plation when we are ready. Contemplation is thus the outcome of faithful prac-tice of the mantra. Contemplation is the life of God received, the backdrop and engine of one's whole spiri-tual life. It is the life that animates one's community rela-tionships, one's ministry, and one's prayer. The short definition is the realization of God's love for us, "the love of God poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who is given us" (Rm 5:5). Contemplation is the outcome of a faithful life. It means claiming what was there from the beginning. It is the Abba experience of Jesus. In his human life Jesus was filled with the Father's presence and love. Certain events like the baptism or the transfiguration were climactic experiences of that love, but Jesus abided in that love always. He looked out upon the world bathed in the Father's love. He was the "beloved Son," and in him the reign of God was estab-lished on the earth. That reign is the kingdom of God's presence and love. It is the resurrection experience. It fills the world with the grandeur of God. Christian Meditation promises this contemplation. Each practice will not necessarily bring forth a recog-nizable, reflexive experience of that love. But every exer-cise will put one a little more in touch with it and will be an experience of communion, of koinonia, of participation in that love. Transformation is taking place, slowly, incre-mentally, and the Christian is being formed in the Wisdom of God, the Son of God, in whom we live and move and have our being. Christian Meditation can indeed be one practical response of meditation and con-templation in our troubled times. 64.4 200Y Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation Notes 1 Way 17 (1977): 12-22. 2 "Teresa of Avila and Centering Prayer," in Carmelite Studies 3 (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1984), pp. 203-209. 3 "An Experience of Christian Meditation," Review for Religious 60 (2001): 419-431. 4 See, for example, Brian V. Johnstone CSSR, "Keeping a Balance: Contemplation and Christian Meditation," Review for Religious 63 (2004): 118-133. s John Main: Essential Writings, ed. Laurence Freeman (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 2002), p. 105. Reflection Questions 1. In the light of Father Larkin's prayer journey, how would I describe some major moments in my own prayer growth? 2. "The commitment to Christian Meditation is a commit-ment to a way of life." What meaning do I give to this statement? 3. Let Larkin's story elicit a group's sharing about the joys and difficulties of praying. Review for Religious SEAN D. SAMMON Rekindling the Fire: Vocation Efforts Dear Brothers and all who cherish the charism of Marcellin Champagnat, It is early morning here in Rome. The last guests from Saturday evening's vigil celebration of the founder's feast have departed, the house is quiet, and the first hours of a new day are just beginning to unfold. What better time than the dawn of St. Marcellin's day to begin a letter to you about the awakening of vocations to his Little Brothers of Mary. Please join me in this continuing effort, this continuing prayer. Like so many of you, I believe that God continues to move the hearts of young people and call them to a variety of voca-tions within our church. So let us pledge to do our best to foster their generous response, while concentrating our efforts on those called to our way of life and mission as Little Brothers of Mary. After all, our Marist Constitutions and Sefin D. Sammon FMS, superior general of the Marist Brothers, writes again in epistolary form. His address is Fratelli Maristi delle Scuole; C.P. 10250; 00144 Roma, Italy. calling 64.4 2005 Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire Statutes reminds us that to do so is a sign of our vitality as an institute. 3:70 Awakening Vocations Well-designed publications, attractive posters, lively and thoughtful presentations that deal with our life and ministry are all ways of cultivating vocations. They all help young people, their parents, and our church to have a better sense of who we are and what we do, and espe-cially to learn something about what we cherish and hold dear. When all is said and done, however, isn't it actually the lives of thousands of brothers over the almost two-hundred- year history of our institute that are our most effective means to awaken vocations? And so your voca-tional tale and mine are good places to start if we want to understand more fully just what we are trying to do. It does no harm to ask ourselves from time to time what first brought us to the life of a Little Brother of Mary and what keeps us here. My own story began when I met the small group of brothers who staffed the high school I attended in the heart of New York City. Even with the distance of years, I can still remember what it was about those men that captured my imagination and my heart. They were obvi-ously religious people, and they appeared happy in their work together and in their commitment to it. There was a spirit of sacrifice among them that somehow appealed to my adolescent soul. And there was passion. This element is at the heart of any vocation worth its salt. Though I may not have rec-ognized it at the time, I realize now that there were some very passionate men in that small group of brothers. In retrospect I can see that, in their love for Jesus Christ and his Good News and for us their students, they shared with us some of the very qualities that our founder Review for Religious inspired in the young men we know today as Francois, Laurent, Jean-Baptiste, Dominique, and Louis-Marie. Even now I find myself surprised at how subtly God was at work in my life, though I surely would never have used that language when I was fourteen. I have to say that I was blessed early in life to meet those men who took delight in helping a rather uncivi-lized crowd of young men to grow up and grow closer to God. These men--many were young themselves--were willing to waste time on us. Time, it was their only currency, and they shared it with us freely and gen-erously. During the years since then, perhaps in imitation or through the mystery of grace, some of my happiest moments have been with young people, sharing their world, their hopes and dreams, their fears and concerns, their ques-tions of faith. Vocation promotion :should neVer be undertaken solely for survival. Vocations for Mission and Not Survival Vocation promotion should never be .undertaken solely for survival. Nor is it simply a matter of numbers. Numbers are not necessarily a sign of viability, nor is age the best measure of vitality. Our zeal for mission, then, rather than a desire to survive "come what may," must be our reason for awakening vocations. This tradition goes back to Father Champagnat. The ever unfolding tale of our institute records that Marcellin's visit to the bedside of a dying teenager is what persuaded him to found a com-munity of brothers with this aim: to proclaim God's Good News to poor children and young people. We know the story well. Discovering that Jean-Baptiste Mongagne knew ¯ " 64.4 2005 Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire nothing about his faith, Marcellin instructed him, admin-istered what were then called "the last sacraments," and went on his way. Returning a short while later, he dis-covered that the lad had died. I have often wondered about our founder's thoughts and feelings as he returned home to Lavalla that evening. We can imagine his pace quickening. We know that almost immediately upon his arrival he met Jean-Marie Granjon, who had been a grenadier in Napoleon's army. Picture their conversation taking place on the bridge near what today is the Hermitage. For Marcellin the mission was clear, the reasons for founding a commu-nity of brothers evident. As they talked on that bridge, our founder's passion convinced the former soldier to join him and give his heart to a corporate adventure soon to be known as the Little Brothers of Mary. Marcellin loved the children and young people of his day. More than once he said, "l cannot see children with-out wanting to tell them how much Jesus Christ loves them, and how much I love them." In today's world many children and young people are the victims of war, human trafficking, and the streets. Denied an education and other basic human rights, they are in desperate need of hearing God's Good News. And so, I ask you, do you believe as I do that the mission of our institute is as urgent today as it was in Marcellin's day, and that it will remain so for the foreseeable future? If you do, then let us agree that the awakening of new vocations can no longer be a sideline attraction for you or for me. Instead, we need to develop a plan for promoting vocations and then put that plan into action. A First Set of Challenges A few challenges before we go on. First, a challenge to my brothers in the institute. If you and I want to make Review for Religious vocation promotion a top priority, most if not all of us will need to arrange our other commitments so as to free up twenty percent of our best time for that work. Why twenty percent? Because there is a lot to learn and a great deal of work to be done. We can all beg off, citing good reasons not to get involved. Lack of time, the demands of ministry, age--who among us has not heard that litany before? But, if you and I want a future for the mission and life of our institute, we need to avoid making excuses and, instead, commit ourselves enthusi-astically to promoting vocations. And now a word to my lay partners. I ask you to join us in our efforts to educate parents, the young people in your care and ours, and the church at large about who we Little Brothers of Mary are, what our life is, and what our ministries are. You know us and know what we cher-ish and hold dear. Help others come to know us as you do. And help us, too, by inviting young people to con-sider making our way of life their own. I have no hesi-tation in asking you to give these efforts top priority. All who share our founder's charism should eagerly promote vocations to the brotherhood he established. God's Good News remains to be proclaimed to more children and young people than we might imagine. And what happens if all of us--brothers and lay part-ners alike--decide not to make vocation promotion a major concern and not to give enough time to this impor-tant ministry? What are the consequences? Some would say that a failure to act and act decisively would dimin-ish the probability of a vital and vibrant future for our way of life and ministry. Others would be harsher. If we fail to act, they would tell us, we probably do not deserve a future. In 1822 Marcellin Champagnat faced a vocation cri-sis, the first in the history of our institute. And how did 373 64.4 200~ Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire he respond? By taking action, beginning with his pil-grimage to the chapel of Our Lady of Pity. We do well today to follow his example. Today more than a few peo-ple use the term vocation culture to describe an environ-ment in which a call or vocation can take root and flourish. You and I can foster such a culture by believing that vocations to Marcellin's Little Brothers of Mary exist today and that with God's grace and our human efforts we can find and cultivate them. A Pastoral Plan for Awakening Vocations A pastoral plan to awaken vocations can help us awaken vocations to our way of life and ministry. A num-ber of provinces and districts already have a well- A ,pastoral: p!an to awaken vocations can help Us awaken, vocations to our way of life and ministry: designed plan in place. Time will tell of its effec-tiveness. Other provinces and districts can take time or make time to develop a plan. The plan should be comprehensive and include in its details the province or district, all the mem-bers, each community, and every ministry--and, of course, all the others who share Marcellin's charism and want to help promote vocations. In drawing up any plan, you and I are better off con-centrating on what can be done rather than lamenting things we cannot change. In some parts of the world, for example, families are smaller than in the past, young people have far more vocational options to consider, and they may make their life commitments at a later age. Neither you nor I can do much to alter these realities. We can, though, invite young men to our way of life and ministry once again, and we can open our homes and Review for Religious hearts to them. We can also help them and others to understand all that has happened in religious life and in our institute during the forty years since Vatican Council II. Let us do what we can, and not keep wringing our hands about what we cannot change. In making plans we must be sure they are adapted to the culture in which we live. A universal pastoral plan for vocations is unrealistic. Differences exist between regions, and customs vary. What is quite acceptable in one part of our world is looked upon with suspicion in another. And so I offer below just a few ideas to get your thinking started. Be as creative as you can. And do not forget to include in the plan exactly whatyou plan to do personally. a. Province or District Provinces and districts should have at least one full-time vocation promoter, but everyone should promote vocations. The full-time promoter should help the oth-ers to do what they can. There should be a well-designed program that explains contemporary religious life to lay men and women. Some of our brothers will tell you that they feel shaken by the changes in our way of life during the last four decades. In that case, just imagine how shaken the average Catholic may be. In some countries, for example, people feel betrayed and confused about why we no longer staff the local school and do not live in the brothers' house next to the church. A good program could clarify the reasons behind such changes. It could also show that everyone--the laity, bishops and priests, and men and women religious themselves--has a respon-sibility for recruiting new members for religious con-gregations. Some among these groups appear reluctant to do so. I cannot help believing that such reluctance may stem from a lack of understanding about our life today. Catholic parents deserve special attention. At one 64.4 2005 Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire 376[ time they were great allies of ours in awakening voca-tions. Today many parents are confused about religious life, about why and how people are still living it. Where their trust has been eroded, we must work to restore it and enlist their aid once again. Our program could include offering an adult educa-tioncourse in a local parish, or as in-service training for faculties in our schools, or as part of parent-teacher con-ferences, or as an Advent or Lenten series. Some could write articles for their parish bulletin or diocesan news-paper. Others could say a few words during or at the end of Mass on Sunday. The means are not quite as impor-tant as the message: our life and mission as brothers is alive and well and ready to receive new members. The work described above could be coordinated by the full-time province vocation promoter. He should not, however, take on these tasks for a local community sim-ply because its members do not want to. His time is bet-ter spent persuading them that the tasks mentioned are rightly theirs and that they have the resources to accom-plish them. Finally, the media and the internet, where avai]able, have great potential to awaken vocations. Where a province web page exists, the vocation pro-moter should make sure that the topic of vocations appears on it and is effectively presented. b. Local Communities Local communities have many opportunities to pro-mote vocations. First of all, though, they should as a group agree to a common plan that ensures that their work will be effective and that nothing will be uselessly duplicated. Prayer must be part of any community's plan. Along with this, three or four times a year a community might invite groups of young people from their school or parish to an open house that is focused on religious life. Such a visit, particularly if it is well planned, can com- Review for Religious municate more about religious life than a series of lec-tures would. Another community might invite parishioners of all ages for a time of prayer, some refreshments, and some friendly conversation, particularly about religious voca-tions. Many people are willing and ready to participate and help, but they need to be asked. A brother's involve-ment in a parish's youth ministry program can be the occasion for young people to learn more about broth-ers and their life. Lay people involved in youth ministry, especially if they know us well, can also raise the topic or answer questions the young may have about religious life. A community might also arrange to print a pamphlet describing our life and mission and place it in the vestibule of the local parish church. In places where the local newspaper or television station does human-inter-est pieces, one or two members of the community could commit themselves to write an article or be interviewed about our life and ministry. c. Our Works Visibility! That should be the yardstick for measur-ing efforts to promote vocations in the institutions where we serve. Posters, pamphlets, days set aside to present the history, life, and mission of the Little Brothers of Mary--all these should be regular fare in any school or social-service project in which we are involved. Our col-leagues and those whom we serve should know clearly just what it means to be one of Marcellin's brothers. While being happily aware that our schools, parishes, and agencies touch others' lives well beyond themselves, we must not overlook those with whom we share min-istry. There may, for example, be lay faculty members in our schools who have given thought, to religious life and our life in particular, but just do not know how to [377 64.4 200Y Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire 378 bring up the subject. We should make sure that oppor-tunities exist to discuss the matter, and that they exist in abundance. d. Each Brother and Lay Partner If you asked me to suggest one thing that you as indi-viduals could do to promote vocations, I would answer immediately: Invite young men that you know to think about making our life and ministry their own. Such an invitation by a brother is the factor mentioned most often by young persons and by those further along in years as well. So I say to my brothers: Awaken vocations, find persons who in good time can replace yourselves. And to my lay partners I say: Awaken vocations so as to ensure a vibrant partnership between brothers and yourselves. Without enough brothers, partnership with you is not possible. To all, I offer this reminder: Personal prayer is most important. So pray for those who have religious life on their minds. Pray for them daily. Pray for them by name. If writing is your gift, put it to good use by writing about our life and mission. And if music, or art, or the media world is your passion, use it to awaken vocations. Teach about our life if teaching is your talent; encourage vocations if your gift is to motivate people. Above all, be creative in planning to awaken vocations. Keep asking yourselves how to use your God-given skills to promote vocations. Give twenty percent of your best time to the effort, and do not forget to invite. Blessings and affection, Se~in D. Sammon FMS Superior General Review for Religious Reflection Questions 1) Spend some time thinking about young people that you know. They might be members of your family, the children of friends, students, those with whom you work in ministry, young people in the parish, or elsewhere. Once you have spent some time thinking about the young people in your life, please turn your attention to the questions below. 1. What is it that you most admire about the emerging generation? Take a moment to explain your answer more fully. 2. What is it about the young people you know that most baffles you? Once again, please take a moment to explain. 3. What qualities do you look for in a young man today when considering candidates for our Marist brother-hood? 2) Spend some time thinking about what you might do individually to awaken vocations during this year ahead. What skills can you bring to the task, what will be helpful to young people, particularly those with an interest in our Institute, how can you best convey the many dimensions of our life rather than one or another? Yes, take some time to pray, seek to understand what God is asking of you this year in terms of awakening vocations, and then turn your attention to the ques-tions below. 1. As you look ahead to the coming year, what steps will you take personally to awaken Vocations? 2. What will you do the first month, during the first three months, during the first half of the year? 3. Is there a way you can combine your efforts with oth-ers to have even greater .influence awakening vocations during this time of grace? Please explain. 64.4 2005 LEO J. HERIOT Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth 380[ Jr~hn Paul II's apostolic exhortation on religious life minded us religious of our founders' charisms and what they offer to us, their followers: "Consecrated per-sons live Jbr God and from God, and precisely for this reason they are able to bear witness to the reconciling power of grace, which overcomes the divisive tenden-cies present in the human heart and in society" (Vita con-secrata 41). And in the same vein we have words that mean much to persons consecrated to a mission: "In the image of Jesus, the beloved Son 'whom the Father con-secrated and sent into the world,' those whom God calls to follow him are also consecrated and sent into the world to imitate his example and to continue his mis-sion" (VC 72). The young John Bosco, the son of Francis and Margherita Bosco of Becchi in Turin, had a unique expe-rience at the age of nine, and we can think his mission Leo J. Heriot SDB lectures in Salesian history and also teaches pas-toral psychology and Scripture in Moamoa Theological College; P.O. Box 9226; Apia, Western Samoa. Review for Religious took root at this very time. He had a strange but com-pelling dream, and this dream would return to him often and remind him of this mission of his. Each vocation is unique, and each calling is special, but for God to call a boy of nine and show him his mission in symbolic form is very special. He told about his dream in his own terms, couched in his own plain language, but it seems that the Lord was surely present in it: When I was about nine years old I had a dream that left a profound impression on me for the rest of my life. I dreamed that I was near my home, in a very large playing field where a crowd of children were having fun. Some were laughing, some playing, and not a few cursing. I was so shocked at their language that I jumped into their midst, swinging wildly with my arms and shouting at them to stop. At that moment a man appeared, nobly dressed, with an imposing appearance. He was dressed in white, and his face radi-ated such light that I could not look directly at him. He called me by name. "John," he said, "you will have to win over these boys of yours not with punches, but with gentleness and kindness. So now begin to show them that sin is ugly and virtue is attractive." At this stage John said, "I am still only a boy. How can I influence these children for the better?" But the man of his dream told him that he was to change these boys by acquiring knowledg~ and being obedient to the Lord. As the young John watched, he saw these boys change into goats, dogs, cats, bears, and a variety of other animals. The person of his dream told him, "This is your field where you must work, and to carry out your task you must become humble, steadfast, and strong!" As he looked again, he saw these wild animals change into lambs. In his confusion John Bosco asked the majestic lady who appeared next to him to explain the meaning of this strange thing in his life. She told him, "In time 381 64.4 200~ Heriot ¯ Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth When he was ordained a priest on 5 June 1841, he wondered what his future work would be. 382 everything will be made clear to you, and you will under-stand your apostolate." The next morning during breakfast John told his dream. His brothers scoffed at his simplicity, and every-one, including his mother and grandmother, had differ-ent explanations for this dream. Joseph, his older brother, said he would become a sheep farmer, and Anthony, his step-brother, told him he would probably become the leader of gang of robbers. His mother suggested that he might become a priest, and his wise old grandmother told him not to take any notice of dreams!. This dream when he was nine influenced John Bosco all his life. His apostolate and his system of education would be based on the reflections of this dream. When he was ordained a priest on 5 June 1841, with little or no fuss about the ordination, he wondered what his future work would be and how he was supposed to achieve the mission planned for him when he was a little boy. He was offered one or another parish or chaplaincy in Turin. Uncertain of his choice, he went to his spiritual director, Father Joseph Cafasso, and placed before him the various proposals. Strange as it may seem, his guide told him to go to the Convitto Ecdesiastico, a residential center where priests studied spirituality and moral the-ology according to the teaching of St. Alphonsus Liguori. It was not an academic institute so much as a pastoral center w.here a lecture was given morning and evening and the rest of the day was taken up with priestly min-istrations to people in prison, to families in their neigh-borhoods, and to patients in hospitals, especially the Review for Religious hospice founded by Canon Cottolengo (now St. Joseph Benedict Cottolengo). Later on, Don Bosco would write about his experience in this clerical convitto: "Here I learned what it means to be a priest." Turin in the 1840s was a town filled with young per-sons looking for work. There had been a drought for a number of years, and poverty in the villages had forced many boys and young men into the town seeking employment. Employment was limited, and before long many of them were stealing food or money to survive. They were coming from Lombardy, Savoy, and as far away as Switzerland. Needless to say, with the influx of these young men, the prisons became full. In Turin there were four main prisons, and they were crowded with boys from thirteen to eighteen. Their crimes were more from necessity than malice. Don Bosco made it a point to visit these prisons, tak-ing with him bread, sweets, and tobacco. The conditions were appalling: overcrowded, unsanitary. Loudmouths and foulmouths aired their hatred when these priests came to visit. Many priests from the Convitto Ecclesiastico found it hard to visit the prisoners living in such sub-standard conditions. One described the boys in prison as caged animals, often aggressive and impervious to the kindness of friendship. In his first visit to the prison, where the juveniles were mixed together with the hard-ened men, Don Bosco was treated with disdain. Just after Easter in 1842, however, he invited some prisoners to make a retreat. His friendly concern was slowly seeping into the hearts of the detainees. Some came around, but the going remained difficult. Still, he persevered with his plans, even with the comings and goings. Boys in one prison might be released all of a sudden, perhaps only to be apprehended again and given a sentence in another prison. 383 64.4 2005 Heriot ¯ Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth 384] The success of this retreat becomes evident in what Don Bosco managed to obtain for the boys. After the retreat he asked the official in charge, Urban Rattazzi, whether he could take the prison's juveniles to Stupingi for a picnic. Rattazzi agreed, provided that some police-men went along. Don Bosco bargained with him for another arrangement, no policemen. At eight o'clock, .:when the prison gates opened, the guards said to one another, "Well, this is the last we will see of some of these 260 wretches!" But, at the roll call at the end of the day, all had returned--showing that a little bit of kindness brings out the best in the worst of children. Another of Don Bosco's apostolates was in the neigh-borhoods of Turin. Industries were growing there, and on the building sites boys as young as ten or twelve were often seen lugging heavy loads of bricks and mortar on poorly erected scaffolding. Don Bosco would argue with the contractors, appealing for the boys' safety. When he first went to the building sites, he would hear the boys sneering and snickering as he passed: Ecco lo prete, "Look at the [good~for-nothing] churchman!" He would reply, No, un sacerdote, "No, a priest [who sacrifices and blesses]." He would invite these young boys to his house on Sunday, and many would come for the meal and the instruction he offered them. As a matter of fact, many of these boys became his first Salesians. Don Bosco had enormous persuasive power with the young. Don Bosco's third apostolate in these early years of his priesthood was in Canon Cottolengo's hospice, the Little House of Divine Providence. True love was found there. Don Bosco's special interest was in the section dedicated to the young. Many young persons coming from villages had become the victims of syphilis and gon-orrhea. As a result of these sexually transmitted diseases, young sufferers often finished their lives in this hospice. Review for Religious Don Bosco would often put his head in his hands and say in humble prayer, "What can I do to help these young people avoid these diseases that are symptoms of a loose society?" One wonders whether the spirit that in the 19th cen-tury motivated St. John Bosco--founder of the Salesians and, as Pope John Paul II called him, the Father and Teacher of Youth--can be found once again in a world that seems to have forgotten the importance of heart for educating hearts. Education without love is incomplete and can only end in frustration. Compensation Foliage fallen from its color's weight leaves emptiness in the treetops. I look up through gaps in their circuitry and see more of heaven than I could in June. And now at night as I lie in bed. the highest branches are abloom with stars. Patricia L. Schnapp RSM 64.4 2005 religious life ELIZABETH McDONOUGH The Council as Catalyst perspective W-hen I entered the convent, John xxIII was pope, and John E Kennedy was president of the United States. He was the first Catholic to be elected president. The USSR's Nikita Khrushchev had already been on the cover of Time maga-zine holding Sputnik, the first successful unmanned spacecraft. Vatican Council II had completed its first session, but no documents had yet been issued. The city of Berlin in what was East Germany was divided by a massive and formidable wall that could be breached only at the risk of one's life. The French had recently withdrawn from Vietnam, and some of my high school classmates had already fled to Canada to avoid the military draft as American involve-ment in that war began to escalate. JFK had already experienced the Bay of Pigs fiasco, and Elizabeth McDonough OP, our Canonical Counsel colum-nist, has written a number of articles for us. She holds the Bishop Griffin Chair of Canon Law at the Pontifical College Josephinum; 7625 North High Street; Columbus, Ohio 43235. Revie'w for Religious the Cuban missile crisis had been concluded without a nuclear war. Martin Luther King Jr. had very recendy delivered his now famous "I have a Dream" speech at the Lincoln Memorial. Elvis Presley had appeared on the Ed Sullivan show, the Beatles had finished their first frenzied foray into the USA, and Betty Friedan's Feminine Mystique had iust been published. Within ten weeks of my entering the convent, our nearly one hundred postulants and novices were at choir practice early on a Friday afternoon in November when we heard that JFK had been critically wounded in an assassination attempt in Dallas. We said a prayer and continued singing, unaware that he was already dead. Of the thirty-four postulants who entered the same time I did, twenty-two received the habit almost a year later. No one seemed to think it unusual that so many of the postulants who had entered nearly a year before had now departed. By the time Vatican Council II had concluded in December 1965, Malcolm X had been gunned down, and the Watts riots in Los Angeles were a matter of history. Less than two and a half years later, Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis. Riots immediately left burnt-out buildings, mounds of rubble, and shattered lives in much of the nation's capital as well as in other major cities across the country. Two months after that, in June 1968, Robert Kennedy was assassinated while cam-paigning in Los Angeles. Later that summer, antiwar riots disrupted the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. That same year, Mary Daly of Boston College published The Church and the Second Sex, and Richard Nixon, who had lost the election to JFK in 1960, became president of the United States. By July 1969, when America placed a man on the 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 388 moon, only a dozen of the original thirty-four postu-lants were still members of my religious community. One month later, on the weekend in August when I professed first vows, a three-day "Music and Arts Festival" was held on a rural farm in upstate New York near the small town of Woodstock. The admission price was $6 a day. The following spring, in May 1970, students at Kent State University protesting the Vietnam War were shot and killed by National Guardsmen. In that same year, for the first time in anyone's memory of our commu-nity's hundred and forty years of existence, no one pro-fessed first vows. The decade of the 1960s was considered by some as possibly the best of times, and by others as positively the worst of times. For American Catholic sisters, it may simply have been, on the whole, the least auspicious of times for the church to suggest that we reassess every aspect of our lives. From the vantage point of nearly half a century, it seems that Pope John's basic intent in convoking the Second Vatican Council in 1959 may have been to initi-ate a radical renewal of all of Christian life. In other words, he may have envisioned a total conversion of mind and heart on the part of all Catholics and even all Christians. It seems he may have intended to sow the seeds of a personal and collective, intellectual and voli-tional metanoia in all believers, so that what Jesus Christ bequeathed to the church might further the salvation of humanity more effectively than it had the first two thou-sand years. Recall that by January 1959, when the council was first announced, the world had just witnessed the most continuously violent, humanly devastating half century in recorded history. From his vantage point, Pope John possibly considered it high time--or time well overdue-- Review for Religious for the whole church to reassess its meaning and role and self-understanding in face of the crying needs of humanity. Recall that Vatican II was convoked before the Berlin Wall appeared almost overnight, before the Cuban mis-sile crisis, before America's seventeen-year involvement in the Vietnam War, before the multiple assassinations and urban violence of the 1960s, before humanity first looked at the world from the moon, before the first ter-rorist attack at the 1972 Olympics, and before the suc-cessful cloning of animals. The council was convoked before the resolution of South African apartheid, before Sarajevo, before Rwanda, before Pol Pot in Cambodia, before Tiananmen Square in China, before the Lockerbie crash in Scotland, before Somalia, before the Gulf War, before Oklahoma City, before Columbine, and long before 9/11. It was convoked before the Iraq War, before Darfur, before the Beslan grade school massacre, before the impact of global warming, and before the global impact of AIDS. What, indeed, we might ask, would John xxIII pos-sibly think now? Perhaps much the same as he was think-ing in 1959, namely, that the church still needs to take a genuinely new look at itself and at the rest of reality in light of the salvation wrought by Christ's life-death-res-urrection- ascension. Whatever any of us may think, say, hope, or regret regarding the Second Vatican Council, few even suspect that the positive potential of its origi-nal intent has yet been realized. This is in part because much more time is needed theologically and practically to assess and to internalize what it said and did. But the council's unrealized potential is also, at least in part, the result, of widely divergent interpretations of its content and meaning which have been categorically co-opted and systematically disseminated by clearly dichotomous seg- 64.4 2005 McDonougb * The Coundl as Catalyst A catalyst initiates a reaction and enables to,proceed under milder conditions than otherwise possible. 390 ments of ecclesial society. For nearly four decades, both sides of this ecclesial dichotomy have consciously sus-tained their combative engagement at all levels of church life. And they have done so with an energy and efficiency that has left most Catholics exhausted and not really very much renewed at all. Meanwhile, any genuine intellectual and volitional conversion that might more effectively bring Christ's salvation to the complex human and spir-itual needs of our battered world has not been afforded a fair chance to begin in earnest. So it seems to me. The title of this article refers to the council as a cat-alyst. A catalyst initiates a reaction and enables it to pro-ceed under milder conditions than otherwise possible. The council did initiate a reaction. When the council began, sis-ters in my community were all known by the names given them when they entered the novitiate. This change initi-ated us into an ego-effacing formation deliberately created to foster an encompassing new way of life. All our sisters lived in convents with local superiors and did things in order of rank from old-est to youngest according to when we had made profes-sion. We all ate in silence while someone read an article or book judged by the superior to be of some signifi-cance (which was often unknown to us who listened as we ate). We all ate whatever was served, though exceptions were made for personal illness. Some sisters seemed to have some personal illness rather regularly. A few seemed to have some personal illness for as long as anyone could remember. We generally washed our own dishes "at table" in a large dishpan of initially clean, soapy water. Review for Religious With rare exception, we never ate at unscheduled times and never ate outside of our own refectory (our term for dining room). We all had three habits: one for Sunday, one for our everyday apostolate, and one for work. Unlike men's reli-gious communities, wherein a habit could often be con-veniently donned or doffed, our habits were the only clothes we had. They were worn at all times except when we went to bed. We were fully "habited" at prayer, at our apostolate, at table, when working in the garden, when doing heavy housecleaning, and even when occa-sionally sledding or playing basketball with sisters around our age during a school break. Depending on where we were stationed (that is, where we were assigned to live and work), the work we did could be teaching a class of fifty or more students, peeling bushels of fruit, running industrial laundry equip-ment, washing dishes for as many as five hundred people, using large, heavy, institutional machines to wax wooden floors that had already been waxed far too many times before, or cleaning with toothbrushes the metal grids on the edges of three flights of stairs. This kind of work was not punishment. It was simply the way we took good care of things. We did almost all of the work ourselves, and almost everything was in perfect condition most of the time. We never wasted anything. Wrapping paper and ribbons, boxes and jars, aluminum foil and plastic containers--all were saved to be used again and again. Our families would joke about our reusing everything and called it "nunny." Nowadays many people do it but they call it ecology. We ordinarily awakened to a bell shortly after four o'clock and almost every minute of every day was sched-uled with some event or responsibility. We all retired at a specified time, usually no later than nine-thirty. 64.4 200Y McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 392 Permission was needed for exceptions. After the "lights out" time, some sisters read books in bed under the cov-ers with a flashligl~t. Our rooms were rather small (about 8 x 14 ft.), but they usually had everything we really needed. Back then what we really needed were a bed, a bedside table, a desk, a bookcase, a chair, a lamp, a closet, and a small dresser. Every room had a crucifix on the wall and a little bottle of holy water on the dresser. We did not hang other things on the walls, and we did not have nicknacks. In some of our convents, a few sisters lived in dormitories with curtains separating generally equal spaces which contained mostly the same furniture. In some convents the rooms might have a small sink and a small easy chair. We had common bathroom facilities, but often the superior's room had a private bath. Superiors also had a small, separate office, and the house treasurer usually did too. We could write to our family once a week. Family members could visit occasionally, oftener and more briefly if they lived nearby, less often and longer if they lived farther away. On these visits we never had meals together. We ate in the refectory with the sisters, and our families ate in the guest dining room. Any gifts our family brought were given immediately to the superior, who transferred the best of everything to the chaplain or the pastor if they were things a priest could use. We all regularly asked permission from the superior for doing such things as opening our mail, using the books at our disposal, and having necessary personal toi-let articles. About once a month the superior conducted a meeting of all the sisters which was known as "chapter of faults." This had been a salutary monastic practice of publicly admitting to the sisters with whom you lived your own externally manifest foibles and failures and then asking forgiveness. But by the 1960s this practice Review for Religious had been truly trivialized into merely mentioning some fault from a previously prepared list of supposedly light or medium or serious ones. They ranged from leaving something out of place to talking during "times of silence." Things we actually did or failed to do that really annoyed one another were mostly not on the list. It did not matter much what a sister mentioned from the list, because the sisters you lived with were already very much aware of your external foibles and failures. Some were even aware of your internal ones. What we actually did or failed to do that really annoyed each other was seldom on the list, - - but these provided the ever-present, unrelenting, mutual sandpaper of our lives together. Every sister knew it, all too well. Most sisters in local-community convents had sev-eral jobs besides teaching. Shortly after first profession I taught five classes of math a day (algebra, geometry, trigonometry) at a co-ed high school of a thousand stu-dents, was in charge of the bookstore (textbooks, sta-tionery supplies), was responsible for the convent cars (keeping them clean, full of gas, and fixed when neces-sary), was convent treasurer ("qualified" because I taught math), and traveled a hundred miles each Saturday for M.A. studies financed by a National Science Foundation grant. What I was doing was not unusual, it seems to me. But we were much younger then. When Vatican II began, the religious community I entered had 720 members. It owned and operated two colleges for women, three highly successful high schools, and a small hospital. All of these had a sister as presi- Most sisters in local-community convents had several jobs besides teaching. 64.4 200~ McDonough ¯ The Coundl as Catalyst 3941 dent, principal, or CEO. All of these had at least a dozen sisters serving in various capacities. We also staffed sev-eral large Catholic high schools and more than three dozen Catholic grade schools in various dioceses in five different states. We were known for being quite good at what we did, and it seemed to me we were. We related professionally to the lay people with whom we worked, but we never really socialized with them. They were called "seculars," and the sisters greatly outnumbered them. By the time I entered, because learning and teach-ing were central to our heritage, it was rare for a sister to be assigned to teach without having at least a B.A. degree. Many sisters already had or were studying for master's or doctoral degrees. Except for those studying, we all came "home" to the motherhouse and worked there or nearby during the summer months. In mid August year after year, we received any new assignments by hearing a list read aloud to all of us assembled in the motherhouse chapel. We were not consulted about the assignments. The very next day we were all on our way to this or that convent in this or that town, each of us with all our belongings. Back then, those belongings always fitted into one large trunk plus, for some, a small suitcase. The convent in which you landed in those days might be subject to the occasional but dreadfully harmful tyranny of a superior who probably should never have had a position of authority. In those days the mother general--the sister in charge of the whole congregation, who herself was elected--appointed all the local superi-ors. It was only in the mid 1970s that sisters in our local houses got to elect their own superior. The election of the mother general took place every four years at a for-mal, solemn gathering called the general chapter. All the sisters voted for delegates to the chapter, and the dele- Review for Religqous gates elected the mother general and the four councilors who assisted her. Besides the elections, these delegates also made decisions about other things that concerned the whole community. While the chapter was in progress, the rest of us usually did not know much about what was going on, although a few always seemed to know most of what was going on everywhere. In local communities, some superiors treated author-ity as a matter of control and more or less trampled on the sensibilities of others in the house, except for favorites of theirs (for whatever reason). In retrospect, it seems that the favorites were being groomed to become future superiors. Many of them did. The nonfavorites were thankful when they were assigned to another house or when the superior went "out of office." Some incom-petent superiors, recycled in a sort of "lateral arabesque," wreaked havoc again on sisters elsewhere. Such superi-ors were the exception, not the norm. But they were really notable exceptions if they were your own supe-rior. The convent in which you landed could also fall under the diplomatically gloved but predominantly iron hand of a local pastor who controlled everything, from the horarium (our daily schedule) to the purse strings. Back then, financial remuneration for sisters was a pittance. In the early 1970s I was among twenty-eight sisters in a city with one of the highest per capita incomes in the country. Two dozen of us had degrees, some even graduate degrees. We taught in a large diocesan high school or in a nearby parish grade school or worked in a diocesan office. One sister was a full-time cook for the convent. Though not many of us knew how to cook for twenty-eight people, we took turns helping to cook on weekends. Every sister in the convent received a salary of $1,800 per year. Of course, the convent and its mainte-nance were paid for by the parish or school, and we had 64.4 200Y McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 396 three cars for our use, paying only the cost of gas for community trips. At that time there was rarely any for-mal provision for sisters' healthcare, but most necessary medical services were donated by local doctors and den-fists. No one ever even thought of retiring, so no retire-ment funds were ever requested or received. It all "worked" fiscally because there were so many of us and we were so young and lived so frugally. I cannot say we went without necessities and must admit we also had occasional extra amenities that were probably unavailable to most of our own families. Remarkably--or perhaps not so remarkably--we usually sent a monthly surplus to the motherhouse. In that way, convents which had difficulties in making ends meet could be given sup-plements from the congregation's general fund. The gen-eral fund also supported our older sisters when they were no longer able to work, but every sister worked for as long as she could. In retrospect it seems that, if we had received higher stipends, we could have recycled much more of that town's wealth into poorer schools and parishes elsewhere through our sisters' donated services. Like most sisters' communities, we also operated schools where many parents simply could not pay any tuition at all. Wherever you lived back then, ever-present poten-tial pitfalls of our life together centered on the possible overemphasis on externals or a possibly excessive legalism in observing regulations as supposedly indicative of what constituted a "good sister." I label them potential pitfalls because, in retrospect, there may have been only three basic ways for us to deal constructively with the exter-nals and the legalism. These realities seemed to domi-nate the entire ethos of Catholicism in America before Vatican II, and they certainly fit all too comfortably into the total ambience of religious life. But, to be construc- Review for Religious tive about it, you could basically only comply with the externals or you could identify with them or you could try to internalize their meaning. Whether or not a sister was really prone to legalism was somehow related to which of the above options predominated for her. Back then, it seemed that just about any sister who wanted to stay in the convent could learn to comply with just about everything that was asked of her, and most did. Even if you did not like doing this or that, you could usually appear pretty good at doing it. Even novices could learn to comply externally most of the time, or at least enough of the time to be admitted to first profes-sion. At another level, back then it seemed to me that most sisters rather readily identified with the communal importance of what was expected of us for the sake of the bigger picture of who we were together. And most somehow sensed that who we were together was immensely greater than the sum of the parts. So the value of accepting certain externals of our collective identity, such as living and praying and working together or wear-ing the same habit or engaging in common practices, was eventually mostly integrated as part of the overall package that both strengthened and assuaged the ins and outs of the day-to-day reality of our lives. But, at still another level, back then it seemed to me that you could personally and spiritually internalize what-ever you did as fitting somehow in the adventure of hav-ing promised your whole life to God no matter what. It also seemed to me that some sisters, mostly older ones, had actually internalized what it might really mean to live our life within the ambience of all the externals but with a balance and healthiness that had no hint of legal-ism. They seemed to understand that none of the exter-nals were the essentials. They also seemed to understand 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 398 that all we did was intended to foster somehow the life we publicly professed and interiorly hoped to live. I think we all truly hoped to be good, maybe even holy. And I think we all truly wanted to do good, no matter what we actually happened to do. From the deeper, longer, wiser perspective of these seasoned sisters, the externals seemed to matter less, even though they were faithful in observ-ing them. For sure, very early on, I knew I definitely wanted to belong someday to the last group just described. In the midst of all this, it also seemed to me that most of us were happy and productive most of the time. We mostly tried to be prayerful women as best we knew how and to be responsively obedient in sometimes diffi-cult circumstances. For the most part, we had fun with one another, good clean fun, much more often than onlookers may ever have suspected. For the most part, we were quite competent at what we did in significant areas of education, study, and learning. And the regimenta-tion of much of our life even afforded some sisters the opportunity of serving others much more effectively than they might have done on their own. Somehow, in com-munities of women religious forty years ago, in some real way, we really were family to one another, warts and all. And through it all, perhaps in spite of it all, we were definitely not all alike, and we knew it. We knew that no visible similarities rendered us actually similar. But we knew, too, that in many ways all was not well with the way we lived and that much could or should be effec-tively changed for the better. From the moment conciliar documents were avail-able in English, the sisters in my community enthusias-tically read and studied them. The promulgation of the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy in December 1963 had enormous positive consequences for American Review for Religious Catholic sisters. Until then, other than Mass, prayer in common for sisters in communities with post- Reformation origins often consisted entirely of medita-tion in common, various litanies~ multiple rosaries, and numerous devotional prayers composed by whoever had founded them. In these communities the meditation topic was usually chosen by the superior, announced the evening before, and had an obligatory format usually fol-lowing standard steps adapted from Ignatian spiritual-ity or from a variation of the 17th-century French school of spirituality. Sisters in communities tracing their her-itage to before the Reformation usually prayed a short-ened "little office" consisting of psalms, with antiphons and responses in honor of the Sacred Heart, the Blessed Virgin Mary, or others. These communities also prayed the rosary in common, but usually had fewer litanies and devotional prayers. Meditation was always in chapel together at an early hour, but a common meditation topic or specific method set by the superior would not usu-ally have been obligatory. Before the council, for the most part, only clergy were considered as officially praying the official Divine Office in the name of the church and as part of its offi-cial worship. Indeed, even if nonclergy prayed the same Divine Office from the same books, it was not considered participation in the church's liturgical prayer. Very soon, however, sisters in communities of any heritage began chorally praying the psalms of the breviary and finding this practice to be immensely more meaningful than their previous devotions. The promulgation of the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation in November 1965 also proved particularly significant for American Catholic sisters, who responded instantly and enthusiastically to new or renewed biblical studies. But no conciliar document altered the reality of reli- 64.4 200Y McDonough ¯ The Council as Ca~alys~ gious life for sisters in apostolic congregations in the United States more than the Decree on the "Accommodata Renovatione" of Religious Life promulgated in October 1965. The Latin phrase accommodata renovatione is delib-erately retained here, not to be pedantic, but because this cryptic description of what was apparently intended for religious life is not easily translated and because one common translation--"adaptation and renewal"--is sim-ply not correct. This erroneous translation, however, was at first used so frequently that dichotomous expla-nations arose describing "adaptation" as pertaining to external elements of religious life and "renewal" as per-taining to internal, spiritual matters of religious life. The title actually called for the entire reality of religious life to be renewed or restored or refreshed or revived in a suitable or fitting manner. This was quite in keeping with John xxIII'S intention that the church more effec-tively bring the riches of salvation in Christ to bear on humanity's immediate and ultimate needs. To this end, article 2 of Perfectae caritatis made clear that effective renewal should occur under the influence of the Holy Spirit and with church guidance. It would involve returning to both the sources of Christian life and the initial inspiration of religious communities as adapted to the altered conditions of current times. PC (Perfectae caritatis, not personal computer!) affirmed fol-lowing Christ in the Gospels as the supreme rule of life for every religious, while urging acceptance and retention of the community's original spirit and aims and sound traditions. It encouraged religious institutes to foster church initiatives in keeping with their own proper char-acter. It mandated that communities should help their members to better understand human realities, world conditions, and the needs of the church. It strongly reaf-firmed the profession of the evangelical counsels and Review for Religious clearly emphasized the importance of spiritual renewal. Article 3 of PC asked every religious community to harmonize its life, prayer, and work with the physical and psychological condition of its members, and it asked us to do likewise in relation to the apostolate, the sur-rounding culture, and overall economic circumstances. It mandated examination of the community's mode of gov-ernment and called for proper revision of constitutions, directories, customs, prayers, and ceremonies in order to bring them into sync with changes promulgated in other conciliar documents. Article 4 of Perfectae caritatis urged the cooperation of all community members in the renewal effort, which it particularly entrusted to competent internal authorities such as general chapters and legitimate superiors. At the same time, it required superiors to consult with com-munity members and to actually listen to them. So it seemed to most of us that someone somewhere who had worked on the formulation of PC must have known that many things might need changing from the way they were back then. All this was prescribed in the context of our individ-ual response to a divine call to express our baptismal consecration more fully by living solely for God with an apostolic orientation in service of the church (articles 5 and 8). Not surprisingly, PC reaffirmed that the three evangelical counsels commonly professed by religious are spiritually and humanly efficacious for fostering maturity, responsible interaction with authority, and con-structive life together. The reordering of the traditional vow sequence from poverty-chastity-obedience to chastity-poverty-obedience was noted, though there was no evident reason for it (articles 12-15). PC also mandated alteration of religious habits inso-far as they were not conducive to hygiene or were no 401 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst Women religious in the Unl,ted States took these conciliar mandates)~,~- and challengers quite.seriously,; responding to them with astounding interest and concerted action. 402 [ longer simple or were not genuinely attuned to apos-tolic needs (article 17). It initiated longer and more com-prehensive formation (article 18) and urged maintenance of current ministries while simultaneously calling for a renewed missionary spirit (article 20). And it pointedly reminded religious everywhere that the "example of their own lives" was the best invitation for others to join them in this way of witness in the church (article 23). Without a doubt, women religious in the United States took these conciliar mandates and challenges quite seriously, responding to them with astounding interest and concerted action. And, without a doubt, Vatican II was a catalyst for renewal. It initi-ated a genuine, whole-hearted, enthusiastic response on the part of American Catholic sis-ters regarding who they were, how they lived and prayed, what they did, and what they were being called to do. On the other hand, from the vantage point of hindsight, it is now rather clear that many changes in religious life catalyzed by the coun-cil did not proceed under the milder conditions that cat-alytic conversions are supposed to make possible. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, experimentation in living and praying and working seems never to have ended, while in some communities their living and praying and working seems never to have changed. In most communities of American Catholic sis-ters, constitutional revisions seem never to have found Review for Religious the last, best way of expressing what sisters really want to say, while in some communities only grammar and syn-tax seem to have been altered, and only minimally. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, corporate apostolates have almost completely disappeared, while in some communities apostolic endeavors seem to have remained exactly the same as they were forty years ago. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, many members wear completely secular attire, while in some communities the sisters' only attire remains a Sunday or weekday or work habit, one of which is worn at all times. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, many members live alone in rented apartments, are responsible to no internal superior below the gen-eral council (now commonly known as a leadership team), find their own jobs, visit relatives at their own convenience, organize their own work schedules, and are basically responsible for maintaining their own well-being. In stark contrast, in some communities life is very much the same as it was forty years ago: all sisters live in convents, are assigned to ministry with little consulta-tion, have local superiors, follow a standard horarium, eat in common, wash dishes at table, never visit their families overnight, and--among a plethora of other per-sonal human constraints--may still be permitted to shower or bathe only once a week. This article refers to the council as a catalyst. In ret-rospect, it is clear that the catalytic impulse of the coun-cil occurred during a decade of rapid and sweeping cultural upheavals in the world. In retrospect, it is also clear that in the United States the catalytic impulse of Vatican lI coincided with conditions of extreme social turbulence. Ostensibly genuine responses to the man-dates of Vatican II during a time of great and ongoing social unrest seem to have resulted forty years later in a 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst far more than minimal divergence in the ways various communities of sisters in America live and pray and work. From what appear to be the result of forces in play forty years ago, in merely human terms the 1960s may have been the least auspicious time for the church to have sug-gested that American Catholic sisters should reassess every aspect of their lives. Indeed, it seems that strongly affirmed good inten-tions and long-sustained earnest efforts have actually brought American Catholic sisters to diametrically opposed positions of immense disparity in spirituality, theology, apostolic endeavors, internal structures, and overall functioning. In four decades of trying to achieve an accommodata renovatio, many communities of American Catholic sisters appear to have unconsciously but enthu-siastically adapted themselves into impending oblivion, while some other communities of American Catholic sis-ters appear to have consciously and steadfastly remained basically unrenewed. And, in this ongoing process, the genuine challenge of Vatican Council II for religious life as a gift to the church--and to the waiting world-- remains as yet overwhelmingly unrealized. Or so it seems to me. His Smile Radiant goodness broke out from ear to ear a would-be down of pain turned up a smile ingratiating, inviting a welcome sign to an open heart; a home. I stepped in and stayed awhile. Walter Bunofsky SVD Review for Religious CHRISTIAN RAAB Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney Toe 1993 Harold Ramis film Groundhog Day is the ry of a television weatherman named Phil, played by Bill Murray, who soon finds himself in a time warp. As the film begins, Phil is cocky, sarcastic, and self-important and resents being sent to the small town of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, to cover the Groundhog Day festival. He spends the day ridiculing the provin-cialisms of the people, bragging about his chances of becoming an anchorman, and trying, rather rudely, to charm his attractive ~producer, Rita, played by Andie MacDowell. At day's end Phil's TV crew gets snowed in. Phil awakens the next day to discover that it is February 2 once again, though he is the only one who seems to notice. He relives the whole day, encounter by encounter, no more gracefully and with even more frustration than he had the day before. He finally goes to bed, hoping that he has gotten over the world's worst case of d4j~ vu. He awakens, however, to find that it is February 2 for Christian Raab OSB is a newly professed Benedictine monk at St. Meinrad Archabbey; 100 Hill Drive; St. Meinrad, Indiana 47577. 64.4 200Y Raab ¯ Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney the third time. These repetitions continue for the rest of the movie. Phil quite clearly has become stuck in Groundhog Day. As he keeps reliving this day and reencountering the people in it, Phil's reactions change--from utter frus-tration and angry outbursts to something else. He real-izes that a life without consequences beyond one day can be used for unbounded pleasure seeking. When he tires of this, he turns his attention toward winning the heart of Rita. He spends days figuring out who the perfect man is in Rita's eyes, and then he pretends to be this person. Needless to say, it does not work. Phil responds with despair and, believing it is the only way out of his private hell, tries again and again to end his life. After each attempt, however, he awakens to the same song on the radio and sees that it is still February 2. Finally Phil recognizes that his selfishness is getting him nowhere. He begins to live for others. He gets to know people and responds to their needs. He feeds a homeless man. He is kind to an annoying character. He helps counsel a young couple. He knows what time every day several old ladies get a flat tire and hurries there to fix it for them. He knows what time each day a young boy falls from a tree, and he rushes there to catch him. Discovering that he has a gift for music, he develops and shares it. He becomes part of the community he once ridiculed, and at last, by forgetting himself, he escapes his fate and reaches February 3. There is something about Phil's Groundhog Day that living as a novice in a Benedictine monastery resonates with. Benedictine iife, especially in the novitiate, is very structured and repetitive. Every day begins the same. At 5:15 a.m., the bells announce Morning Prayer. After Morning Prayer is breakfast, then private spiritual read-ing. At 7:30 a.m. we return to church for Mass. When Review for Religious this is over, we may grab a quick cup of coffee before the workday begins at 8:30 a.m. Coffee break is at 10 a.m. At noon comes Midday Prayer and then lunch, fol-lowed by work or class again at 1 p.m. At 4:30 p.m. the workday ends. The monks go back to church at 5 p.m. for Vespers. After this we have another period of private spiritual reading, and then at 6 p.m. we meet for the evening meal. After dinner, monks are usually free to recreate, study, or go to bed, as the case may be. The monk ends his day, goes to sleep, awakens again the next day to the ring-ing of the bells, and the cycle begins again. It is - - a structured, repetitive, and somewhat predictable life. In some ways, every day feels the same. Of course, this structured life is not just a repetition of practices. More important, it is a repetition of encoun-ters with people. It is easy to know that a particular brother can be expected to sit at a particular place in the refectory during breakfast. A certain father will be arriv-ing at the coffeemaker at 7 a.m. Some monks will sit on this side of the calefactory during coffee, break, and oth-ers will sit on the other side. We expect to see certain monks in the computer lab before we open the door. We know who will almost surely be playing cards after supper. We become familiar with the sounds of monks' breathing and walking. We begin to know who will like a book and who will hate it, who will take a joke and who won't, who likes hugs and who doesn't, who prefers the mornings and who prefers the evenings. In the way that monastic life provides a series of repeat encounters This structured life is not just a repetition of practices; it is a repetition of encounters with people. 407 64.4 2005 Raab ¯ Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney 408 and practices, it is not much different from Groundhog Day. The monk, unlike Phil, voluntarily chooses this life of repetitive practices and encounters in connection with the vow of stability. The vow is a monk's promise to stay in the same place with the same people and engage in the same monastic practices for the rest of his life. Like all the vows, stability is a means toward the end of con-version. Our Brother John Mark explains that stability aids conversion by providing a sure and solid context in which the human will may conform to the will of the loving God. He compares the human will to a steel rod that, in conversion, is bent into conformity with the divine will. One cannot bend a rod without having something strong and solid to hold it in place. This is what stabil-ity does. It provides the strong and solid foundation that makes conversion--the bending of the rod--possible. Stability means the monk stays put. He commits to repeat his day over and over again in the same place with the same people doing the same things. And so the monk, in a very real way, is choosing to do what Phil did invol-untarily, to stay in one place, to relive and reencounter while being transformed. Repetition can help us with this transformation, not merely by keeping us surefooted, but by supplying and resupplying opportunities for loving choices. For exam-ple, because I am in this repetitive life, each day I have the opportunity to be more attentive in liturgy, and to be more open in prayer, than I was earlier. As I live and work each day alongside some people who annoy me, I have the opportunity to "love my enemies," to set aside grievances, to practice patience, to exercise charity. Each day I have the opportunity to anticipate needs in the elderly monks, to clean things with more care than I did Review for Religious the day before, to listen with more receptivity to the lonely and the needy. Because so many of our experiences and encounters repeat themselves, I am, each day and always, given the opportunity to be humble where I was proud, to be chaste where I was lustful, to be calm where I was angry, to be forgiving where I was unforgiving, to be assertive where I was a pushover. In this way, stability, by its rep-etition, can be accepted as a great gift on the path to holiness. The monk who perseveres can, like Phil, be trans-formed. Like Phil, we may come to this life with prob-lems of self-centeredness, sarcasm, conceit, anger, despair, or lust. But, if we are open to the grace that comes with living, out stability in a monastic community, we, like Phil, may be transformed into persons of char-ity. In the last scene of Groundhog Day, Phil has finally "gotten it right" and the morrow has finally come. On the morning of February 3, the now-transformed Phil says to Rita with joyful single-mindedness, "Is there any-thing I can do for you today?" It is this monk's hope that he may be able to start his own day, each day, with the same happy singularity of purpose, saying to my broth-ers and to God, "Is there anything I can do for you today?" ZPlease:note that the phone and fax number for the editorial offices of Review for Religious :have changed. The new numbers are: PHONE 31'4-633-4610 :and FAX 314-633-4611. 409 64.4 2005 the ANDREW RYDER Led by the Spirit: St. Augustine spirit 4101 St. Augustine's reflections on Christianity were very original and also much influenced by the facts of his own life. He forged his ideas 6n the hard anvil of his own conversion and his need, as a bishop, to defend the teaching of the Catholic Church. This combination of speculation and experience gives his writings a unique ongoing relevance. Their blending of the theoretical and the practical is nowhere more evident than in his teaching on the Holy Spirit. His Spirit doc-trine develops through three movements: his agonizing effort leading to his conversion, his need as a pastor to explain the church's doc-trines, and his awareness that the action of grace is the love of the Holy Spirit dwelling in our hearts. Fortunately, the key to understanding these three movements, and indeed all of Augustine's theology, is his most popular com- Andrew Ryder scJ presents the second of his four arti-cles on the Holy Spirit. His address is St. Joseph's Retreat Centre; Malpas; Cheshire SY14 7DD; United Kingdom. Review for Religious position, the Confessions. This work records his long-drawn- out struggle to find God. The Confessions The opening words of the Confessions set the tone. Augustine's masterpiece is not a sorrowful account of past misdeeds. It is not a lurid description of a misspent youth, but rather a joyful poem praising the God who has delivered him from sin and error: "Can any praise be worthy of the Lord's majesty? How magnificent his strength! How inscrutable his wisdom! Man is one of your creatures, Lord, and his instinct is to praise you. He bears about him the mark of death, the sign of his own sin, to remind him that you thwart the proud. But still, since he is a part of your creation, he wishes to praise you" (Conf 1.1).' The Confessions are not an autobiography in the mod-ern sense, but rather a profession of faith in the majest

Issue 42.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1983. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty mem.bers 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. REV|EW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus,.St. Louis, MO. © 1983 by REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOrdS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $17.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW Fort 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 Sept./Oct., 1983 Volume 42 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Bivd'.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from Rt:vlt:W EOn Rt.~LIGIOUS; 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. Letters of Gratitude-- II Robert F. Morneau The issue of September/October, 1982, carried the beginning of an experimental series of "Letters of Gratitude" addressed to various authors who have been important to Bishop Morneau's own spiritual development. Reader response has encouraged a continuance of this series. Bishop Morneau may still be addressed at Ministory to Priests Program; 1016 N. Broadway; De Pere, WI 54115. This series of letters of gratitude continues the purpose of an earlier series, i.e. to express my appreciation to certain authors who have enriched my life and to encourage the readers of these letters to read the primary sources of these authors. These Letters of Gratitude are written to Augustine of Hippo, Ra~'ssa Maritain and Dag Hammarskfi~id. Augustine (354-430) shares his innermost life with us in his famous Confessions. This masterpiece speaks to all ages and articulates movements of the inner life. that are universal No one can read this classic without being changed. Raissa Maritain (1883-1960). the wife of Jacques Maritain, has left us two precious treasures in her Raissa's Journal and We Have Been. Friends Together. The first of these works records the daily experiences of a deeply sensitive and spiritual woman; the second work narrates the story of key people who .influenced her own life as well as her husband's. The third letter of gratitude is addressed to a former secretary general of the United Nations. Dag HammarskjSld (1905-1961) was a distinguished statesman and advocate of international cooperation. In his famous Markings, HammarskjSld, candidly and with consummate skill, shared his journey. The depth of his spiritual life and the range of his concern are moving indeed "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood . "so the poet Robert Frost tells us. We cannot travel many roads personally but we can vicariously. And it is on the road that we share many hours of dialogue and rich experience. The 641 642 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 companionship of Augustine, Ra~'ssa Maritain and Dag HammarskjOM is well worth having, if only for a few minutes or a few hours'.; Augustine Hippo, North Africa Dear Augustine, I write in gratitude for the candid and direct sharing of your journey in the Lord. How many hearts have been touched through your confession of sin, confession of God's goodness, confession of deep struggle will probably never be known. But I write you to say that I am one who has been moved and challenged by your story; your conversion has led to my own. ¯ Where to begin? With the people who were instruments of the Lord, with the historical context of time and place, with the struggle toward freedom that drove you from darkness to light? Perhaps the last point presents a pattern that helps to explain the whole. You share well how you were held in the bonds of slavery on various levels. First of all, the slavery of sensuality! Passionate by nature and living in an environment that would activate the seeds of license, you were held fast by the desires of the body. In this darkness. you struggled for so many years and, even after the grace of conversion, continued to struggle violently with concupiscence. In this weakness you found your strength because, in the frustrating powerlessness of it all, you were forced to turn to the Lord for true liberty. God's mercy helped you not to become discouraged in the fight for purity and light. A second slavery, much more binding than the first because so much closer to the heart .of your person, was the hold that your intelligence had on you. If your finite mind could not reason to something, then that something had no value, indeed no existence. Your reason reigned supreme, thus your inability over many years to read Scripture. Not conforming to your rigid laws of logic, you lacked the simplicity to comprehend spiritual reality which was immaterial. These chains held you fast and, once again, only through the working of grace, teachers and certain philosophies were you able to be set free and to allow faith to give go. vernance to your rationality. Here we see that your strength became your greatest weakness, keeping you from Truth. The Lord in his own timing drew you into the embrace of love, and there you also found truth and purity. The two slaveries that held you captive, sensuality and rationality, also are the forces that sweep through our times, incarcerating our spirits and our lands. These forces have also moved through every age and thus your autobiography is for every season because it touches so deeply our experience. Letters of Gratitude / 64~1 Your modeling is so important because it reveals that order and peace can be had, that slavery excludes true happiness, that victory can be achieved with effort and grace. ¯ Just as you have touched many lives, likewise many people had a powerful hand in shaping your mind and heart. I think of your mother, Monica, loving, praying and pursuing you in great fidelity. God rewarded her and you with that powerful experience at Ostia--sheer grace. I think of Ambrose, bishop of Milan, whose fatherly tare and keen sensitivity helped you to work through your intellectual crisis. I think of the life of St. Anthony whose example of deep asceticism and total commitment caused your heart to burn for action. I think of Adeodatus, your brilliant son, whose death caused your heart such deep. grief. I think of your concubine and her deep love and fidelity toward you, severed from you by the dictates of culture--whatever did happen to her? I think of Alypius, your dear friend, with whom you shared so deeply and who later became bishop of Tagaste, your home town. I think of St. Paul whose writings helped to finalize your conversion. This awesome compahy made their mark; your receptive spirit eagerly took in their gracious gifts. Several incidents in your life are symbolic of deep patterns. The stealing of pears, relatively insignificant in and of itself, reveals the mysterious realm of motivation--to steal not because of the fruits but because of peer pressure. In narrating this event, you manifest a profound grasp of human psychology, a deep grasp of self-knowledge. You teach us here to go beyond our actions and thoughts .and to discern the deeper recesses of our,behavior: moving from the "what" to the "why," which in turn reveals our true values. Then you share that powerful mystical experience, communal in nature, that you and Monica had shortly before her death. Together in conversation you entered deeply into discussing and experiencing the dwelling place of God, already tasting in this life what was to be forever. How you must have treasured that moment throughout the rest of-y.our life, a touchstone experience against which to judge your many future dec~slons. Then you speak of reading Cicero's Hortensius, a work that inflamed your soul in its search for wisdom. Herein we see the importance of a single book in our lives, able to set us in a direction never before pondered. You tell further of Alypius' compulsion in regard to gladiatorial shows; how this otherwise kind and learned man was held captive by a game. In this you were taught a lasting lesson, one that touched the core of your person: freedom is a precious gift that must be carefully tended or it is lost. Given all these circumstances and people, the most compelling reality in your life was the ever present hunger you had for God--more accurately, God's hunger for you. Your sensual and intellectual passions and avarice could not be satiated; always you came away empty and unfulfilled. It was your spirit that ached for meaning and presence, the meaning and presence of a Person. Only God could fill you but the sensuality and rationality had to accept that radical poverty of spirit that makes room for God. The charting of your 644/ Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 journey, with the carefully described anguish and pain that necessarily accompany growth, is a helpful log for all of us, your fellow pilgrims. Your legacy has been prodigious." ~)61~mbs of comprehensive theology, vas~ and subtle philosophical reflection, powerful exegesis on the word of God, stirring exhortations, a model for community living, moral discourses of a challenging nature. But for me your greatest legacy is your humanness. Within the genius of cognitive excellence, we find a human heart that is torn and twisted by the winds of human experience. Your confessions are free from pretense, from the too common masking that infects most of our lives. For this the centuries are in your debt. You tell us that it is possible to reach the heights of holiness within the maze of failure and trial, within the morass of sin and slavery. You brought all of your life, n° part being excluded, to the Lord, and he healed and blessed you. It was your heart and not your head that became the portal for divine encounter. Your desire and passion for love was, at bottom, the key to your life. The only regret that I sensed came from your late loving. As long as history lasts, these words will touch the human heart: Too late have I loved you, O Beauty so ancient and so new, too late have I loved you! Behold, you were within me, while I was outside: it was there that 1 sought you, and, a deformed creature, rushed headlong upon these things of beauty which you have made. You were with me, but I was not with you. They kept me far from you, those fair things which, if they were not in you, would not exist at all. You have called to me, and have cried out, and have shattered my deafness. You have blazed forth with light, and have shone upon me, and you have put my blindness to fligh!! You have sent forth fragrance, and 1 have drawn in my breath, and I pant after you. I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst after you. You have touched me, and I have burned for your peace. (254-255) Your fond admirer, RFM Death language My heart was made dark by sorrow, and whatever 1 looked upon was dea-th.~ My native place was a torment to me, and my father's house was a strange unhappiness. Whatsoever I had done together with him was, apart from him, turned into a cruel torture. My eyes sought for him on every side, and he was not given to them. 1 hated all things, because they no longer held him. Nor could they now say to me, "here he comes," as they did in his absence from when he lived. To myself I became a riddle, and 1 questioned my soul as to why it was sad and why it afflicted me so grievously, and it could answer me nothing. If I said to it, "Hope in God," it did right not to obey me, for the man, that most dear one whom she had lost, was more real and more good to her than the fantasy in which she was bade to hope. Only weeping was sweet to me, and it succeeded to my friend in my soul's delights. (98) 1 had learned from you that nothing should be held true merely because it is eloquently expressed, nor false because its signs sound From The Confessions of St. Augustine, translated and annotated by J. G. Pilkington, M.S., by permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved, 1943. Letters of Gratitude / 845 Prelense Fear Anger Disposition Integration Friendship harsh upon the lips. Again, 1 learned that a thing is not true because rudely uttered, nor is it false because its utterance is splendid. I learned that wisdom is like wholesome food and folly like unwholesome food: they can be set forth in language ornate or plain, just as both kinds of food can be served on rich dishes or on peasant ware. (119:120) That man of God (Ambrose) received me in fatherly fashion, and as an exemplary bishop he welcomed my pilgrimage. I began to love him, at first not as a teacher of truth, which 1 utterly despaired of fir~ding in your Church, but as a man who was kindly disposed towards me. (130) But as often happens, just as a man who has had trouble with a poor physician fears to entrust himself even to a good one, so it was with my soul's health. (138) What another man would take as an occasion for anger at me, this sincere young man took as a reason for becoming angry at himself and for loving me more ardently. Long ago you had said and had inserted it into your books, "Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you." (143) From experience, 1 knew it is no strange thing that the bread that pleases a healthy appetite is offensive to one that is not healthy, and that light is hateful to sick eyes, but welcome to the well. (174) It is one thing to behold from a wooded m~untain peak the l~nd of peace, but to find no way to it, and to strive in vain towards it by unpassable ways, ambushed and beset by fugitives and deserters, under their leader, the lion and the dragon. It is a different thing to keep to the way that leads to that land, guarded by the protection of the heavenly commander, where not deserters from the heavenly army lie in wait like bandits. They shun that way, like a torture. In a wondrous way all these things penetrated my very vitals, when I read the words of that least of your apostles, and meditated upon your works, and trembled at them. (180) Let a brother's mind do this, not a stranger's mind . Let it be that brotherly mind which, when it approves me, rejoices over me, and when it disapproves of me, is saddened over me, for the reason that, whether it approves or disapproves, it loves me. To such men will I reveal myself. (23 I) II Ra~'ssa Maritain France Dear Ra~sa, I write in gratitude for the insights and sensitive reflections that are contained in your journal and autobiographical writings. I have read them with excited interest and deep admiration. My only hesitancy in picking up 646 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 your journal was my concern as to whether or not you really wanted it read; your husband Jacques and your friends decided after much thought to publish it. Though questioning the principle behind their decision, I in no way question the advantages that flow from such intimate conversation. A most powerful pattern expressed in your journal revolved around the .experience of suffering. I refer both to its intensity and pervasiveness. Not having had such experiences, 1 doubt that I comprehend its full import or the depth of such pain. What seemed to be central to such a way of life is your ability to accept, in grace, that suffering as part of God's plan and, in some way, to be able to identify with the Lord in the tasting of the pain. Otherwise the result could well have been deep resentment and hostile anger. You have taken a universal human experience and dealt with it in a healthy way. Such modeling is important in an age that tends to flee from all suffering at any cost. I have tasted and now savor your response to this path of pain; your courage throughout the ordeal is inspiring. I reflect, too, on your sister who lived with you and your husband. Unheralded, without great talent, fulfilling the role of servant, she represents an entire core of people in higtory who, through their quiet dedication and humble service, have made it possible for others to be creative and productive. Your sister was fortunate in being appreciated for who she was and what she did, an uncommon fate for many like her. These unsung heroes and heroines whisper of the many flowers that are "born to blush unseen." How did you come to integrate your personal relationships so well? Did it involve a painful struggle? In reading your journal it becomes obvious that God had priority in your life; he was indeed the ground of your being; all of life's meaning came from your deep faith. Yet, from other reflections you have shared, your husband Jacques and other individuals were extremely close to you as you were all friends together. Theoretically this is no problem: love for God and our fellow creatures is certainly not exclusive. Yet on the practical level, given the reality of making choices that necessarily exclude other options, such balance in our lives is not easy to come by. Perhaps you could send me further reflection on this. Two incidents from your life impressed me deeply. One was the time you and Jacques were studying at the university in Paris and in your searching were unable to find sufficient meaning for life. So intense was the search that you both opted for suicide, if you could not find meaning. Such was the seriousness of your endeavor and such was the grace given by God that you discovered Thomistic thought. Cpming out of this rich theologic and philoso-phic loam you were to find a perspective sufficiently sustaining that suicide no longer remained an option. Our own age stands in need of meaning-systems to provide us with a reason to live, a reason to die. The great metaphysical and cosmological questions continue to haunt the human mind and heart, prodding us until some type of resolution is found. Too often suicide becomes a "viable" option. Recently I heard of several people who had picked up some Letters of Gratitude of Jacques' works. He has become an instrument for passing on a wealthy tradition enabling the human spirit to deal with movements towards insight and hope. Your personal contributions to the poetic world have served the same purpose. The second incident that sounded a chord in me was the remark that Bergson made to you: "Always follow your inspiration." What a challenging statement, one not free from danger as he realized when sometime later he commented that he could not say that to just anyone. Your interpretation of the advice was to always act freely so that your true self could emerge. What wisdom when we are in touch with our deepest selves; what danger when, on some superficial levels, our personality seeks expression regardless of the effect on ourselves or others. At bottom, in a faith context, our inspiration is not really ours but the Lord's. Without knowing it, Bergson became an instrument of God calling you to foster and nourish a discerning heart, a core element in the development of the spiritual life. Inspiration is a fact, a part of everyone's experience; how it is interpreted and whether or not it is responded to depends upon the disposition of each person. You responded well to the movements of God's Spirit. Simplicity, as a virtue and way of life, was a constant call for you. What simplicity as well as its sister, purity, mean, boggles my mind. Certainly they are inseparable but they contain such mystery and are so grace-laden that it is hard to describe their essences. To will one thing, to be transparent, to possess unmixed motivation and a sense of detachment--all of these are hints and clues. Only experience allows their meaning to enter the heart. By contrast, complexity disrupts our !onging for the simple as compromise discolors the pure stream of love. Testing the reverse side of the coin draws us painfully into the poverty of our lives. Your writings are expressions of deep honesty. You state what you feel and think, not what others might expect you tO say. In going before God, you bring your real self, warts and all. In dryness of spirit you bring your emptiness and nothingness before the Lord. In the joy of friendship, you recognize its source with gratitude. All these reflections center on one thing: truth. Again the confidence that truth can be comprehended; certitude is possible. With the truth comes freedom from moral, psychological, and spiritual paralysis. Time and again the hunger and thirst for truth, which at bottom is that infinite desire for God, emerges and demands constant bnergy. You, your husband and friends were searchers; your find has been graciously shared with us. Three loves helped to shape your life: theology, philosophy and poetry. Many individuals helped give you insight into these three loves: Thomas Aquinas, Plotinus, Augustine, Pascal, Bergson. My heart rejoices to find the formative influence of poetry in your journey: It brings the soaring and majestic flights of theological insight and philosophical reflections back to the concrete and specific. This happy triumvirate makes for a well-rounded disciple of the Lord. 641~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 You were a part of an exciting movement within the Church. The goal was a quality spiritual life based on strong principle and dedicated service. One senses the importance of community and friends in such an adventure. Herein is a lesson for our times: spiritual growth happens through deep participation with and among a community of believers. The search is painful but the joys are deep. Your contribution has not been forgotten; more, it continues to touch many hearts. Deep peace always, RFM Ego Virtue God Envy God Peace Truth Experience The ego is an obstacle to vision and possession. (28) Yesterday 1 had a good morning. Once again when I recollect myself, 1 again find the same simple demands of God: gentleness, humility, charity, interior simplicity; nothing else is asked of me. And suddenly I saw clearly why these virtues are demanded, because through them the soul becomes habitable for God and for one's neighbor in an intimate and permanent way. They make a pleasant cell of it. Hardness and pride repel, complexity disquiets. But humility and gentleness welcome, and simplicity reassures. These "passive" virtues have an eminently social character. (71) I get nowhere by looking at myself; I merely get discouraged. So I am making the resolution to abandon myself entirely to God, to look only at him, to leave all the care of myself to him, to practice only one thing, confidence; my extreme wretchedness, my natural cowardice leaving me no other way open to go to God and to advance in good. (83) A proud man envies the superiority which surpasses him. A humble one, on the contrary, loves good wherever he finds it, and by this love, in some sense appropriates it to himself. I enter into the presence of God with all my load of misery and troubles. And he takes me just as I am and makes me to be alone with him. (225) Sources of peace: God and trees. (328) But before all else, I had to make sure of the essential thing: the possession of the truth about God, about myself, and about the world. It was, I knew, the necessary foundation for my life; 1 could not, without letting the ground be washed away from under me, give up the pursuit of its discovery. Such was my deep instinct. And by assiduous work must I prepare myself to receive the hard secrets of the spirit. All the rest, 1 thought, would follow, would come in its time--music, the sweetness of the world, the happiness of life. (3 I) 1 began to read Plotinus outside class with great joy. Of this reading one single dazzling memory stands out for me, and throws all the rest into shadow. One summer day in the country, I was reading the Enneads. I was sitting on my bed with the book on my knees; reaching Citations from Ra~'ssa "s Journal are reproduced by permission of the publishers, Magi Books, Inc. Letters of Gratitude / 649 lnspiratibn Honesty Fa~h Suffering one of those numerous passages where Plotinus speaks of the soul and of God, as much in the character of a mystic as in that of a metaphysician--a passage I did not think of marking then and which I have not looked for since--a wave of enthusiasm flooded my heart. The next moment I was on my knees before the book, covering the passage I had just read with passionate kisses, and my heart burning with love. (96-97) One day, trembling all over, I went to Bergson to ask his advice about my studies, and even more, no doubt, about my life. It was the first time 1 had ever done anything of this kind. A few words of what he said to me are forever engraved in my memory. "Always follow your inspiration." Was this not to say, "Be yourself, always act freely'?. Much later, when I reminded him of this advice, which 1 had set about following indeed, Bergson, smiling at his imprudence, said kindly: "That was not advice I could have given to many people . "(97) Bloy appeared to us as the contrary of other men, who hide grave failings in the things of the spirit and so many invisible crimes under a carefully maintained whitewash of the virtues of sociability. Instead of being a whited sepulchre, like the Pharisees of every time, he was a firestained and blackened cathedral. The whiteness was within, in the depth of the tabernacle. (I 19) 1 think now that faith--a weak faith, impossible to formulate consciously--already existed in the most hidden depths of our souls. But we did not know this. It was the Sacrament which revealed it to ¯ us, and it was sanctifying grace which strengthened it in us. (178) This question of suffering in Beatitude, and of suffering in God himself, had already been raised by Bloy in Le Salutpar les Juifs. This conjunction of suffering and Beatitude is allowed neither by theology nor by Aristotle. Beatitude means absolute fullness, and suffering is the cry of that which is wounded. But our God is a crucified God: the Beatitude of which he cannot be deprived did not prevent him from fearing or mourning,~or from sweating blood in the unimaginable Agony, or from passing through the throes of death on the Cross, or from feeling abandoned. "Every imaginable violation of what one is accustomed to call Reason can be accepted from a suffering God," says Bloy in Le Salut. (189) III Dag HammarskfiSM c/o United Nations Building, New York Dear Secretary General, I write in gratitude for the markings of your life which you so carefully ¯ noted in your now famous diary. While busy with the affairs of the/world, while leading the United Nations in its struggle for an elusive pea(e, while 650 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 interacting socially and professionally with thousands of people, you took time to trace the movements of your spirit. Did any of your knowledgeable associates suspect the depth (or even existence) of your spiritual life? Was there anyone sensitive enough to feel the pulsating rhythm of your mind and heart? Perhaps their blindness and your own reticence kept too well hidden your dialogue with God and with life. And, as often happens, only after death is life fully manifest! We have the blessing of your journal which tells the story, a story that both inspires and challenges. So many themes! So many movements! The struggle with self and against self not being the least. Enslavement to pride and vainglory that so strongly contended with the haunting desire for self-surrender. Given your giftedness and international recognition, the self found humility no easy virtue. Yet you were able to name the struggle, you were able to admit your intrinsic weaknesses toward egoism and this already provided impetus to new freedoms. What a powerful instrument your journal must have been in this whole process. By it you kept in touch with the truth and that very truth was the gateway to authentic liberation. And even more deeply, within that whole struggle with self, was your relationship with God and your deep faith. Slavery to self was not broken through mere human discipline and strength. At the core of your religious life was the desire for purity and its most noted effect, transparency. No admixture of foreign elements into one's nature, thought or behavior. God was pure; he was love which is the essence of purity and permits transparency. You sought this God in faith, knowing that constant contact with him would bring about a personal renewal. Nor was all this a rugged individualism: all action is social, all holiness involves the well-being of other:s, all are part of a large symbiotic existence. As a youngster, I recall hearing in the dead of night the haunting whistle of the freight train cutting through the darkness with its small beacon of light. So, too, in reading your markings, I sensed the loneliness that is part of the lot of those chosen to lead. Genius and responsibility remove the engine from the rest of the cars and cause a perception among the masses that fails to take into account the real inner self. That loneliness finds expression in your reflections and these reflections come from the silence of the night. Whatever the pain, silence and loneliness are elements in the atomic formula that spell a rich imeriority. Without these qualities superficiality and mediocrity predominate. Every so often we come across vast visions contained in a nutshell; multiple truths captured by an adage; diverse beauty gently painted in a masterpiece. Your prayer is a rich theological gold mine: Give us A pure heart That we may see Thee, A humble heart That we may hear Thee, A heart of love That we may serve Thee, Letters of Gratitude / 651 A heart of faith That we may live Thee. (214) The emphasis is not on the mind or action but on the heart. Herein lies the wellspring of human life: what happens in the heart determines our fate. Thus we truly see when our hearts are pure; we hear for the first time when our hearts are humble; we serve well under the condition that our heart has made room for love; we live in God's piesence if in our heart there dwells the gift of faith. How simple! How profound! How challenging! And all of this is gift: "give us"! Not a selfish prayer made only for one's own growth, but a collective prayer asking for all peoples these gifts of single-mindedness, rich obedience, deep affectivity and spiritual vision. Only so blessed can peace come to the world; all politics must be grounded in spirituality, if any meaning at all is to be had. Resistance is for many of us a way of life. We resist our limitations, we feel hostile to the unknown, we are non-accepting of those things that do not fit into our plans. So much time and energy are consumed through the negative force of resistance that there is little, if any, left over to live a positive life. We shout a continual no to life and wonder why we are not happy. You related how one day you stopped this pattern in your life and shouted (or whispered) your yes. (205) In that moment of surrender all was different, all was new. However ambiguous and undefined this religious experience was--you were not clear as to who even put the question--that leap into affirmative acceptance was the point of conversion. A new person was born that day and with it came the precious gifts of meaning and freedom. What would, be your response to the condition of world government as it exists today? Was all your work worthwhile? Despite the powerlessness of the United Nations, despite the wars that go on daily and the fragile peace in the non-military sections of the planet, despite the narrow supercilious nationalisms causing incredible blindness, your work was not in vain. Your expertise, dedication and world consciousness have made their mark and furthered the cause of peace that is absolutely crucial for the family of man. The ideal has been kept alive and your contributions to the common good are inestimable. Hopefully, others will follow who will carry on this ministry to world peace and justice. The ultimate meaning in life which emerged time and again from your journal is love. Beyond obedience, beyond fear, beyond openness to life is this great force and power of radical care. Without it, division and alienation rage; with it, there comes the joy and peace of those who touch and have been touched by God. The beauty of life is that love found expression in action which you see as "the road to holiness" for our times. You walked it well; may we be but a step behind. With gratitude, RFM 652 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 Friendship Lislening Love HMmor Love Growth Within-hess Purity Holiness Obedience Instrumentality Fa#h Hum~ Every deed and every relationship is surrounded by an atmosphere of silence. Friendship needs no words--it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness. (8) The more faithfully you listen to the voice within you, the better you will hear what is sounding outside. And only he who listens can speak. Is this the starting point of the road towards the union of your two dreams--to be allowed in clarity of mind to mirror life and in purity of heart to mold it? (13) Perhaps a great love is never returned. Had it been given warmth and shelter by its counterpart in the Other, perhaps it would have been hindered from ever growing to maturity. It "gives" us nothing. But in its world of loneliness it leads us up to summits with wide vistas--of insight. (42) A grace to pray for--that our self-interest, which is inescapable, shall never cripple our sense of humor, that fully conscious self-scrutiny. which alone can save us. (43) Our love becomes impoverished if we lack the courage to sacrifice its object. (56) If only 1 may grow: firmer, simpler--quieter, warmer. (93) To be able to see, hear, and attend to that within us which is there in the darkness and the silence. (97) To be pure in heart means, among other things, to have freed yourself from all such half-measures: from a tone of voice which places you in the limelight, a furtive acceptance of some desire of the flesh which ignores the desire of the spirit, a self-righteous reaction to others in their moments of weakness. (109) In our era, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action. (122) Beyond obedience, its attention fixed on the goal--freedom from fear. Beyond fear--openness to live and beyond that--love. (129) Rejoice if you feel that what you did was "necessary," but remember, even so, that you were simply the instrument by means of which He added one tiny grain to the Universe He has created for His own purposes. (143) We act in faith--and miracles occur. In consequence, we are tempted to make the miracles the ground for our faith. The cost of such weakness is that we lose the confidence of faith. Faith is, faith creates, faith carries. It is not derived from, nor created, nor carried by anything except its own reality. (145) Humility is just as much the opposite of self-abasement as it is of self-exaltation. To be humble is not to make comparisons. Secure in its reality, the self is neither better nor worse, bigger nor smaller, than anything else in the universe. It is--is nothing, yet at the same time one with everything. It is in this sense that humility is absolute self-effacement. (174) From Markings, by Dag HammarskjiSld, translated by Leif Sjoberg and W. H. Auden, by pernaission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. All rights reserved, 1964. Crisis in Personal Prayer: Reflections of Pope Paul VI J. Michael Miller, C.S.B. Father Miller is an Associate Professor in the Department of Theology of the University of St. Thomas, where he may be addressed: 3812 Montrose Blvd.; Houston, TX 77006. Shortly after his election to the papacy twenty years ago, Pope Paul VI confided to his friend Jean Guitton, "Montini has disappeared, Peter has replaced him."~ Of his interior life, consequently, we know very little: no Journal of a Soul, no published diaries, few unedited notes. The silence that had always surrounded his own life of prayer became absolute after he was elected pope. Nothing undoubtedly would have embarrassed this shy, inward man more than the revelation after his death that he often wore a hair shirt under his white cassock3 The fascinating spiritual biography of the pope who led the Church in its most tumultuous days since the Reformation remains to be written. Can nothing then be said about his prayer life? its difficulties? its structure? its emergence from a soul steeped in the anguish of the twentieth century's alienation and loneliness? Not a buoyant optimist as was John XXIII, Paul VI disappointed those who desired a charismatic, powerful personality to lead the Church in the wake of his popular predecessor. Especially in the last years of his pontificate, his tired and stilted movements (caused by painful arthritis) inspired little optimism. He was accused of being indecisive, lackluster, too progressive and too reactionary. Sharply aware of the "formidable burden" of his office and of his "apparent incommunicability," Pope Paul was thus no stranger to humani-ty's doubts and anxieties. Despite his reticence and his quasi-mystical assump tion of the ministry of Peter, Paul VI has nonetheless left us some reflections on the contemporary crisis in the practice of personal prayer--instructions which he shared with the people of God over the course of fifteen years of catechesis, exhortation, and homily. We can glean from these talks, which he 653 654 / Review for Religious, Sept,-Oct., 1983 wrote himself, some understanding of his own prayer life of which they are an echo. His remarks on prayer spring from a soul enmeshed in this "sad, dra-matic, and magnificent earth," as he described human existence in his last will and testament. The pope was a sensitive and compassionate man whose life of prayer was filled with a serenity and hope which belie those who thought him to be crushed by his own sense of responsibility and the suffering of both the Church and the world. While Pope Paul elaborated no systematic doctrine on prayer or the spiri-tual life, he consistently exhorted the faithful to pray and dedicated numerous discourses to the specific theme of personal prayer. On occasion he set aside for the topic two, three, or even four discourses in succession--as in August 1969, Eastertide 1970, or after Pentecost in 1976. The Holy Year of 1975--its preparation, realization, and aftermath--also stimulated his reflections on prayer. Nonetheless, Paul VI never presented a long and sustained theology on this theme such as that which John Paul II delivered in 1980 on marriage and sexuality in the opening chapters of Genesis. For this article, then, I have organized thematically material drawn from disparate talks over Paul's fifteen-year pontificate (1963-1978). At every point my primary interest is to allow the penetrating insights, concise and chiseled language, and ever-present serenity of Paul VI to speak for themselves: they reveal the contemporary person before personal prayer, the difficulties it entails, and its fundamental conversational structure. Is There a Crisis in Personal Prayer? Not infrequently Pope Paul lamented the declining practice of prayer in the modern world. He noted "with regret that personal prayer is diminishing'~ and that "unfortunately today many people no longer pray, do not pray at all. ,,4 In several discourses on prayer he mentions this decline and uses it as his point of departure: "A simple enquiry on the religious habits of the people of our time would yield sad findings on the complete, or almost complete, absence of personal prayer in a very large number of persons, now alien to, and alienated from, all expressions of inner religious feeling.'~ The crisis reaches "even those who are consecrated to the Lord [who] pray less than was once usual.TM Yet, despite, this grim evaluation of the contemporary situation, Paul VI did not take refuge in complaint. Instead he observed attentively in order to discover the reasons for the decline and, finding the reasons, to encourage hopeful signs wherever they appeared. More the pastor than the judge, he wanted to draw Christians, especially the young, to return to per-sonal prayer. Because Paul VI did not divorce his ministry from service to the world, he sought to reawaken humanity's thirst for the interior life by leading it to dis-cover in its own sterile experience of the world the foundation for prayer. He therefore tried to explain why modern men and women find it so difficult, so joyless to pray. Again and again he returns to his own straightforward ques- Crisis in Personal Prayer / 655 tion: "Why js interior life, that is the life of prayer, less intense and less easy for people of our time, for ourselves?''~ His assessment spurred him to try to ac-count for this unfortunate situation and thereby turn it to pastoral advantage. Reasons for the Crisis While Pope Paul never neatly outlined all the reasons for the contempo-rary crisis in prayer, his many discourses, however, reveal at least five explana-tions which touch the heart of the matter: Exteriorization. According to Paul VI, "we are brought up and educated to live exterior lives.TM A concentration on the marvelous and exciting things of this world has so displaced "equal training in the interior life" that few know its laws and satisfactions. The decline in practice is less a matter of man's deliber-ate unwillingness to pray than of his preference for more gratifying diversions. The ~'fascinating" media of film and television, for example, militate against the cultivation of a prayer life. If these media are watched "assiduously or obsessively," he says, they can "take the place of speculative thought, fill the mind with empty fantasies (see Ws 4:12), and urge it on to what it has seen." The human mind is reduced to the sensory world alone and "exteriorized." Given this situation, Paul goes on to ask, "Where is there any room for spiritual life, prayer, dependence on that prime principle which is God, when the consciousness is habitually crowded with these intruding and often futile and harmful images?"~ This first point is simple: a mind and heart filled with vain images leaves neither room nor interest for prayer. Materialism. A "deluded consideration that reality, the whole of reality, is that of the sense order, that of temporal and material experience" increases humanity's obliviousness to its spiritual depths. Crushed by work, study, and absorption in worldly affairs, we are in danger of closing ourselves to the transcendent, to the call to prayer. When knowledge is reduced to physical and quantitative laws, and God is "excluded as the transcendent Principle of the universe, and therefore also of every free and wise intervention in the world of our experience," Pope Paul then asks, "how could man address a word to the unknown God, try to dialogue with him, invoke his loving Providenc.6?" Whenever nothingness is proclaimed at the summit of the universe, he con-tinues, then people are "made incapable of prayer." Instead they are forced to strengthen the "mystification of self-sufficiency."0 Materialism and secularism lead to "putting prayer out of public life and private habit.TM Scientism. The frequently vaunted capacity of science to explain everything without reference to a transcendent cause calls into question the value of imploring a provident and personal God. Paul VI often follows the Thomistic .nodel of first outlining and then answering objections squarely. He comments, ~or example, that we have "to keep in mind the classic and usual objection nowadays, about the uselessness of prayer for us modern men, who by means of scientific progress have a knowledge of. the cosmos and human life ~hich makes it useless to have recourse to God to intervene in the scheme of causal- 656 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 ity, over which we ourselves either have control or know its fatality." After thus fairly presenting the objection, he answers that science "does not deem the influence of divine action superfluous in the play of natural causes, but recog-nizes it and to a certain extent., postulates it, invokes it, prays to it with increased understanding of divine and human things."~2 Paul VI refused to concede that science and technology could provide a satisfactory excuse for not praying. Rather, he insisted that scientists should not curtail the metaphys-ical and: mystical possibilities raised by the depth and precision of their disci-plines. If honestly undertaken their study should lead them not to silence but to dialogue with their Creator. Lack of a Religious Sense. Coupled with the exteriorization of the human mind, secularism, and scientism is a decline in humanity's "basic religious sense." Without this sense a personal spiritual life is impossible. Even before a person consciously prays, the person must have "that perhaps vague, but deep, mysterious and stimulating sense of God which is the basis of prayer."Is Because this religious sense is the atmosphere from which our thin voices can be raised in prayer, Pope Paul admonishes everyone to "try to find the routes leading to the religious sense, to the mystery of God, and then to colloquy and union with God.TM A world which excludes the mystery and beauty of God sweeps away the foundation of the interior life. Social Activism. Another Pauline explanation for the declining practice of prayer is the false emphasis some Catholics place on social conct~rns. The pope of Populorum progressio (1967) and Octogesima adveniens ( 1971) warned that social activism threatens to displace the interior life of prayer. Those who maintain that charity towards one's neighbor is enough are tempted to regard prayer as an obstacle to action, "as if they were competing for time, now scarce." Quite simply, according to Paul, prayer is "an indispensable coefficient of apostolic action."15 Without prayer, loving communion with Jesus Christ, the Church is unable "to contest a society in which everything is staked on apparent efficiency."~6 Without prayer, the Church would be "some kind of philanthropic humanism, or some sort of purely temporal sociological organi-zation,"~ 7 but it would not be the Body of Christ which worships the Father through the Son in the Holy Spirit. Signs of Hope Despite the "formidable, but false" reasons why many people neither want to pray nor know how to pray nor do pray, the Church remains a "prayer association." It is in and through the Church, according to the pope, that humanity "has found the authentic way of praying, through Christ the sole high priest, that is, the way of speaking to God, of talking with God, of speaking about God."~8 Anchored deeply in the life of the Church and aware of her spiritual fiches, Paul VI was nevertheless able to discern within contem-porary secular experience an opening to prayer that many others brushed aside as irrelevant or unredeemable. Not satisfied with a mere description of the Crisis in Personal Prayer crisis, he always tried to dig deeper, to unravel, to make explicit the implicit, to reveal the hidden. The key to his theological and pastoral method was his indefatigable desire to "rescue" the potential of every twentieth-century philo-sophical and cultural movement--to unearth its latent possibilities. What many perceived as weakness or indecisiveness was really the pope's ability to grasp the multi-sided complexity of the modern world and his seeking to read the "signs of the times." In his discourses on prayer he applied his own method: to bring into focus the ways in which contemporary experience, especially that of the young, has within itself the capacity to promote a loving dialogue with God rather than a monologue with nothingness. Paradoxically, then, the modern spirit contains the seeds of its possible redemption. During the Holy Year, Pope Paul commented on the plausibility of a reaction setting in among young people which would turn them once again to the practice of personal prayer. Spontaneously alienated by the empti-ness of denying God, "these young people come forward, sad and tormented by the need of a real religion, which will make it possible still to talk to God, to pray to him, to know that he is accessible and close, provident and loving."19 Rather than despair at their denial of God and of the possibility and power of prayer, Paul VI chose to encourage them to reach deeper into their own experience and acknowledge their inner thirst for God. At a Wednesday audience two years before his death he said: Is there not, perhaps, at the bottom of the contesting bitterness of so many young people today a state of mind that is lamentation, poetry, invocation, which it seems permissible to classify under the sign of prayer, a sign that has survived the hurricanes of modern disillusionment? Yes, the temple of prayer opens its doors to the men of our time, and they, most certainly, feel that it would be wonderful to go in again. But they are hesitant: how dare they? And how to pray?--they think. It is worthwhile accompanying them and inviting them again to pray with us30 Ever anxious to accompany and encourage, Pope Paul perceived that "a need, an orientation, a sympathy for some form of prayer is being born again in the heart of the present generation.'~ From the experience of alienation can emerge a rekindled interest and thirst for the Living God. Such sentiments are certainly those of a man confident that truth will eventually prevail. In a moving description of the desperation of the young and their world, Paul VI strives to discern in their pleas an unacknowledged but real prayer raised to God. He recognizes in those who "hear no other call but that of a wasteland, on which they have fallen in an attitude of listless sadness to testify to the unhappy emptiness of their existence . a kind of existential moan of their innate desire to live, to survive." He does not hesitate to call this "a prayer; yes, a prayer conscious only of the desperate devaluation of every magnified modern experience, a kind of De profundis, to the atrocious inner torment." Like the Athenians who did not recognize the objective orientation of their longing (see Ac 17:23), so today the young do not often recognize in 65~1 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 their alienation their "innate, anguished need of Life, transcendent, rising again, divine." From out of the depths of this human anguish, according tO the pope, the possibility arises of encountering "a mysterious wayfarer, exhausted under a cross, who repeats his paradoxical but fascinating invitation: 'Come to me! And I will give you rest'" (Mt 11:28).22 In the very cry of those seemingly without God is revealed the first fashioning of prayer. Always intent on reaching to the crux of the matter and belie.ving that the human person "remains radically religious, essentially oriented towards the quest for God, towards a relationship with him, and therefore eager for, and capable of, personal prayer," Paul VI regards the spontaneous cries of the heart as the beginning of authentic prayer, the ''prayer-spark" which "bursts forth from the soul" in an "almost explosive" manner. Even for those untrained in religious conversation such a cry is a minimal, sometimes unno-ticed, expression of the soul's conversation with God.23 In this way, Paul seems to suggest the presence of a kind of"anonymous prayer" in the soul of many of his contemporaries. According to him, the drama of twentieth-century thought leads either to the failure of desolate skepticism or to "a science of God, which cannot remain just inert and passive, but experiences the logic, the vital urge to express a word; a word addressed to God: a call? praise? an attempt at dialogue? In any case, a prayer.'~4 If people would but open their eyes and their mind, they would discover in their own groans the beginning of prayer. Prayer as "Intoxicating Dialogue" Though Paul VI neither provided a manual on the practice of prayer nor described its dynamics in any detail, he frequently recalled the fundamental structure of personal prayer as God's call and an individual's response. The pope often reminds his listeners that even before a word is on our tongue, God himself is within us in "that mysterious and indescribable appointment which God, the one and threefold God, deigns to make with us, for filial and over-flowing conversation within our very selves."25 God reveals himself to us from within; he is closer to us than we are to ourselves. Paul never tired of calling to mind the mystery of the divine indwelling as the condition which makes all praying possible. Everyone needs to learn to pray inside oneself and by oneself, because God is with us inviting and beckoning us to interior.persona! p.m_ y~er. Despite our laziness, our being "slow and restive interlocutors," as the pope says, it is God who precedes and loves and goes in search of us first.26 Paul Vl's emphasis on personal, private prayer stems from his keen awareness that "the essentia! crossroads at which there is a meeting with the religious mystery, with God, is within us, in the interior room of our spirit and in that personal activity we call prayer.'~7 Liturgical prayer can never replace internal awareness and dialogue with the God who encounters us from within. Both God's sending of his Son in the Incarnation and of his Spirit at Pentecost provoke a "listening" in the heart of the believer. After listening to God's invitation, the pope said, "we cannot remain silent and inert" but must Crisis in Personal Prayer / 659 seek to respond.2s Paul VI was fond of referring to prayer as "conversation" or "dialogue"---terms dear to his theological method as it emerges, for example, in his first encyclical, Ecclesiam suam (1964). The simplest raising of the heart to God is already prayer when the mysterious Other is addressed, however inarticulately, as "thou." Nor is the individual disappointed "with the new joy of an intoxicating reply: Ecce adsum; here I am."~9 Prompted by the Spirit to recognize God within, and then to address him, the person is comforted with a reply. God listens. Dialogue unfolds "through filial conversation and concen-trated silence with him."~0 Prayer, then, is simple, austere and loving conversa-tion, an "intoxicating dialogue.TM In an address directed to rekindling the religious sense among men and women of today, Paul describes the dialogue which follows upon a person's awareness of God: Prayer is conversation: a conversation carried on by our personalities with the invisible companion, of whose presence we have become aware: the holy Living One, who fills us with awe and love, the indescribable Godhead, whom Christ (see Mt 11:27) taught us to call Father through his priceless gift of revelation)2 With his customary care to answer objections anticipated in the minds of his listeners, Pope Paul insists that prayer is authentic only when coupled with trust. The fear that our words are "a voice in the darkness" or merely "despair-ing poetry" is real. But once we remember that prayer begins with God and is established by Christ, it cannot be a monologue. Our very response is necessar-ily a dialogue.33 The "essential pattern of prayer" is that of a "conversation between God and the person,"a conversation which arises from a bilateral and beneficial relationship anchored in God's graciousness and an individual's trust.~ This model of prayer is readily accessible to contemporary human experience; it needs only to be'unlocked and directed to the God who waits. Conclusion Thus spoke Paul VI on prayer. To paraphrase St. John (20:30), there are many other things which Pope Paul said about prayer, but they are not ~ecorded in this article: his unceasing encouragement of liturgical prayer as the outflow of personal prayer, his esteem for the practice of simple vocal prayer, his promotion of Marian prayer. All these themes, and many more, together make up the rich legacy ori prayer which the pope bequeathed to the Church. Though not always highly original in his instruction, he taught assiduously the value and need for prayer if contemporary humanity is to survive. Paul VI restated traditional doctrine with a vigor and finesse attuned to our contem-porary self-understanding. More than all else, however, his calm and confi-dence that God is working through our barrenness to invite us to prayer is an encouraging testimony that from the very poverty of our existence might emerge the riches of loving dialogue with the Triune God. 660 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 NOTES ~Jean Guitton, Paul VI secret (Paris, 1979), p. 12. 2Ibid., p. 15. 3The Teachings of Pope Paul VI, vol. 3 (Vatican City, 1971), p. 145 (22 April 1970). All subsequent references are to the collected works published in ~e Teachings of Pope Paul VL I I vols. (Vatican City, 1969-1979, also reprinted by the USCC). The date of the original papal discourse follows in parentheses. 4Teachings 8, p. 86 (30 July 1975). ~Teachings 7, p. 14 (23 January 1974). 6Teachings 2, p. 219 (13 August 1969). 7Teachings 2, p. 220 (13 August 1969). STeachings 2, p. 220 (13 August 1969). 9Teachings 2, p. 228 (27 August 1969). ~°Teachings 8, pp. 8687 (30 July 1975). ~ Teachings 2, p. 223 (21 August 1969). ~2Teachings 7, p. 147 (23 October 1974). ~3Teachings 2, p. 226 (27 August 1969). ~4Teachings 2, p. 228 (27 August 1969). ~Teachings 9, pp. 105-106 (8 September 1976). ~rTeachings 8, p. 415 (12 November 1975). ~TTeachings 3, p. 144 (22 April 1970). ~STeachings 3, p. 143 (22 April 1970). ~gTeachings 8, p. 87 (30 July 1975). ~°Teachings 9, p. 67 (9 June 1976). ~ Teachings 7, p. 19 (30 January 1974). 2~Teachings 7, pp. 145-146 (23 October 1974). 2aTeachings 7, pp. 14-15 (23 January 1974). ~4Teachings 9, p. 66 (9 June 1976). ~STeachings 3, p. 145 (22 April 1970). 26 Teachings 7, p. 15 (23 January 1974). :T Teachings 2, p. 221 (13 August 1969). 28Teachings 7, p. 17 (30 January 1974). ~gTeachings 2, p. 221 (13 August 1969). ~°Teachings 2, p. 225 (21 August 1969). ~ Teachings 8, p. 63 (2 June 1976). J~Teachings 2, p. 226 (27 August 1969). J~Teachings 7, p. 19 (30 January 1974). ~Teachings 9, p. 68 (16 June 1976). 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 63106 Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer Thomas E. Clarke, S.J. Father Clarke, theologian, writer and lecturer, is well known for his work with renewal efforts in a variety of communities. He now resides in a small pastoral community where he may be addressed: 126 West 17th St.; New York, NY 10011. It is well known that Jungian spirituality--approaches to human and Christian development which draw on the insights of Carl Jung--is experi-encing a high point of interest and influence.~ More specifically, the Jungian psychological types are attracting many, especially as these types are identified by the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), a preference measurement perfected over several decades by the late Isabel Briggs Myers.2 More particularly still, there is considerable interest in describing forms of prayer which correspond to the categories of the Jungian typology.3 In this context the present article seeks to identify and reflect on ways of praying which correspond to the functions and attitudes of the Jungian schema; it will also offer some suggestions and cautions towards the further exploration of such correspondences. It is written not only for those who are already acquainted with their MBTI types, but also for those seeking a basic explanation of this instrument in its usefulness for prayer. These observations are based on a dozen retreat/workshop experiences of six days which have sought to aid Christian growth by correlating Jungian type-categories with Gospel themes and Christian practices. They are also meant to supplement what has been said in a recent book transposing the retreat/workshop into print.4 The scope of this article is quite limited. First, it does not profess to know how people or groups belonging to any one of the sixteen types actually prefer to pray or, still less, ought to pray. Secondly, it does not seek to correlate each of the sixteen types with one or more forms of prayer. The basis of the correlations here suggested will be the four functions, with some consideration of the attitudes of introversion and extraversion. 661 66~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 The article does, however, go beyond the previously mentioned literature in three ways. First, it will speak not only of the prayer of individuals but also, though less in detail, of prayer in groups and in liturgical assemblies. Secondly, it will raise the question of prayer as a form of leisure, hence as a time for making friends with the shadow side of one's personality. And thirdly, it will raise the question of forms of prayer for individuals at different stages of life's journey. A Preliminary Observation One final preliminary re~ark needs to be made, on the method of correlation followed in our retreat/workshop, in the chapters of From Image to Likeness, and in the present article. Jungian theory and the Christian Gospel are two quite distinct and heterogeneous interpretations of what it means to be human. The properly behavioral and the properly religious dimensions of life are irreducible one to the other. Even where common terms, drawn from either sector, are used, we must be wary of assuming a univocal sense. Carl Jung presented himself principally as pursuing the science of the soul. Jesus Christ is God's Word of salvation, the founder of the faith community which bears his name. Nevertheless there are between the insights of Jung and the teachings of Jesus significant affinities, likenesses, analogies. As in the case of Plato and Aristotle, Darwin and Marx, penetrating Jungian insights into the human condition can meet, and be met by, facets of the Gospel. The method employed here, then, is one which centers on such resemblances. My impression is that much of the energy generated within Jungian spirituality today derives from the exciting discovery that these two basic perceptions of our humanity often converge in remarkable ways. The convergence on which we will focus here is that which obtains between the characteristics of each of the Jungian functions and different forms of Christian prayer. The Jungian Types My guess is that most readers of this article have already been introduced to the Jungian types either directly or through some such instrument as the MBTI. But a brief summary may be helpful, at least to those not acquainted with the types. Carl Jung's clinical experience acquainted him with the fact that while we all engage in common forms of behavior we also differ notably from one another in our behavioral preferences, and hence in the way in which we grow humanly. He used two generic terms, perceiving and judging, to designate the alternating rhythm, present in each person, of a) taking in reality, being shaped by it, and b) shaping reality, responding to it. Each of these two postures was specified, Jung postulated, in two contrasting functions. Perceiving (P) was specified as either sensing (S), the Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 663 function through which, with the help of the five senses, we perceive reality in its particularity, concreteness, presentness; or as intuiting (N), the function through which, in dependence on the unconscious and with the help of imagination, we perceive reality in its wholeness, its essence, its future potential. Judging (J) was also specified, in either thinking (T), by which we come to conclusions and make decisions on the basis of truth, logic, and right order; or in feeling (F), which prompts conclusions and decisions attuned to our subjective values and sensitive to the benefit or harm to persons--ourselves or others--which may result from our behavior. All four of these functions, Jung affirmed, can be exercised by way of extraversion or by way of introversion. He invented this now celebrated distinction to describe the flow of psychic energy inlany given instance of behavior. In extraverted behavior the flow of energy is from the subject towards the object of perception or judgment. In introverted behavior, the flow of energy is in the opposite direction, that is, from the object towards the subject. What makes the difference is not precisely whether the target of our perception or judgment is something outside ourselves or within ourselves, but which way the energy is flowing. Rather commonly, the impulse to share one's perception or judgment immediately with others or at least to give it bodily expression, signals the presence of extraversion (E); while a tendency to gather the perceiving or judging behavior and to deal with it within oneself marks introversion (I). Working independently of Jung, and on theoretical foundations previously explored by her mother, Isabel Briggs Myers developed an instrument which, on the basis of a preference questionnaire, indicated how the respondent prefers to behave in given situations. The typology is based on four sets of polar opposites: extraversion/introversion; sensing/intuiting; thinking/feeling; judging/perceiving. In tabular form: E-I S-N T-F J-P The four pairs of opposites in varying combinations yield sixteen types, each of which is identified with its code e.g. ESTJ; ISFP; ENFJ. In the process of decoding, which we cannot describe in detail here, one arrives at the order of preference of the four functions (described as dominant, auxiliary, third, and inferior), as well as the attitude (introversion or extraversion) of the dominant function. Thus one person's most preferred behavior will be extraverted feeling, another's introverted intuiting, and so forth. Also worth noting is that when the dominant function is a perceiving function (sensing or intuiting), the auxiliary function will be one of the two judging functions (thinking or feeling), the third function will be the other judging function, and the inferior function will be the perceiving function opposite to the dominant 664 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 function. A corresponding pattern will obtain where the dominant function is a judging function. This is one way in which Jung's view of"compensation," or the tendency of the psyche towards balance, is verified. Extensive research and testing, especially with respect to the professions chosen by people of various types, enabled Isabel Myers to construct profiles of the sixteen types. These in turn have won for the M BTI an extensive use in the fields of career guidance, personnel policy, and the dynamics of groups and organizations. The key psychological insight on which the MBTI capitalizes is that people's behavior, development, and relationships are strongly affected by their preferences in perceiving and judging, as well as by the extraverted or introverted character of the respective preferences. If one makes the assumption that persons are capable of enlightenment and growth through free exercise towards more human ways of living, this psychometric tool then becomes a vehicle of human development. Such is the conviction which has sparked enormous interest in the MBTI in recent years. Out of the work of these two American women has emerged the Association for Psychological Type, whose membership has reached 1500, and which has sponsored five biennial conferences for discussing numerous aspects of the typology. One of the interest areas provided for in APT covers religious education, spiritual growth, prayer styles, missionary service, and similar themes.5 With this brief outline of the various functions and the two attitudes which qualify human behavior, we now turn to correlating each of the four functions with forms of Christian prayer. In the case of each of the functions we will ask: What are some of the forms of prayer--individual, group, and liturgical-- which correspond to this function? Sensing Forms of Prayer Forms of prayer corresponding to the sensing function will be, in general, those ways of praying in which we pay attention to present reality in a focused way, whether with the help of the five external senses or through a simple perception of interior reality. Here are some examples of what we may call sensing prayer. l) Vocalprayer, such as the recitation of the psalms or the rosary, will be sensing prayer when the posture of the one praying is characterized by simple attentiveness, a certain contentment with each passing phrase, and an eschewing of rational thought, imaginative scenarios, and strong emotional investment. Sensing prayer tends for the most part to be simple, quiet, undramatic, contemplative, and down to earth. Vocal prayer, whether the words are recited aloud, gently murmured, or just expressed within, are apt vehicles for exercising this side of our personality. 2) The "prayer of simple regard" is a traditional term used to describe a kind of prayer which, I would suggest, has ~he characteristics of sensing prayer. It consists in just "being there," present to present reality, especially to God within the mystery of divine presence. It needs no words (except perhaps to Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 665 recall one from distraction) and does not involve strong y~arnings of the heart, but in simplicity accepts the "sacrament of the present moment." 3) The prayerful "application of the senses" may also be an exercise of sensing prayer. But here I understand this term as referring to the use of the five exterior senses, or any one of them, on their appropriate objects. The first part of Fr. Anthony de Mello's widely ready book Sadhana contains many such exercises which he lists under "Awareness.TM The sense of touch, for example, may be prayerfully exercised just by letting myself become aware of bodily sensation, beginning perhaps with the shoulders and working down to the soles of the feet. Touch is also exercised when I attend to how, in breathing, I feel the air as it enters and leaves the nostrils. Listening to sounds in a quiet posture of receptivity and enjoyment is another instance of sensing prayer. Provided I have entered this exercise with faith, I do not need to have recourse to the thought of God or to any devout feelings, even though, as Ft. de Mello suggests, a variation of this exercise might consist in hearing the sounds as God sounding in all the sounds made by nature and humans. Thus the chatter of voices, the purr of a motor in the basement, or the thunder of a ride on the New York subway, can be grist for the mill of sensing prayer. Something similar may be said for gazing as a form of sensing prayer. I may look at objects of devotion, at pictures in a book or album, at faces in a crowd, at the beauties of nature. Even taste and smell can be vehicles of prayer for a person exercising faith with a heightened consciousness. 4) Sensing prayer can also draw upon the interior sense, our capacity for paying attention to what is going on within us. Focusing on our breathing or our heartbeat can be a point of entry. Then we may choose simply to attend to what is happening in inner consciousness, to the words, images, or feelings which spontaneously bubble up from the unconscious. Sometimes this kind of exercise can induce a gradual slowing or cessation of inner chatter, and we can for a while just listen to the silence within. We may even come to a happy interior verification of the Quaker motto, "Don't speak until you can improve on silence." Sometimes people ask with regard ,to such exercises, "Is it really prayer?" Even if it were not, it would not be a bad way of disposing ourselves for prayer. But when it is situated within a life of faith and for the purpose of expressing and deepening our faith, it can be prayer---excellent prayer---even though we do not name God, converse with God, or experience any devout surge of the heart. Sensing Prayer in Groups So far I have been suggesting sensing forms of prayer for the individual. But groups can also pray with an accent on sensing. Various kinds of vocal prayer such as litanies or the Office in common, especially when they are engaged in with simplicity and even with a certain routine, enable the members 666 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 of a group to meet God and one another through the sensing function. It is also possible to create prayer services in which each of the five senses has its place, as, for example, by listening to the tinkle of a bell or to a guitar quietly strumming; by devoutly kissing a crucifix or extending a handclasp of peace; by smelling incense or flowers; by tasting a sip of wine; by focusing on the lighting of a candle. Sensing prayer in common leaves aside what is highly cognitive or interpersonal or imaginative. It calls the group to be together with a great deal of simplicity and quiet awareness of God, one another, and the environment. Sensing in IJturgical Prayer There are times when people come together in larger groups to pray, and particularly to participate in the official or public prayer of the Church. When we celebrate the Eucharist and other sacraments and the divine Office in large assemblies, prayer takes on what I would call a societal character, in contrast to the interpersonal character of prayer shared in small groups.7 The general thesis which I would propose is that a well-celebrated liturgy needs to attend to all four functions. Ideally, each participant and the congregation as a whole should have the opportunity to exercise both sensing and intuiting, thinking and feeling, in extraverted and introverted ways. In the present aspect, sensing prayer, liturgical celebration will meet our humanity when it evokes the exercise of the five senses in a congruous way by inviting the participants to look, listen, touch, taste, and smell, all in a fashion which nourishes their faith and deepens their solidarity. There is no need here to detail how apt the celebration of the sacraments in the Christian and Catholic tradition is for meeting this need of human personality. My impression is that consequent upon Vatican II the effort to break out of liturgical straitjackets sometimes brought an "angelism" insensitive to the importance of the senses in good eucharistic celebration. Heightened attention to the homily tended to move celebration excessively towards the cognitive, to the neglect of the sensate, elements of good celebration. To some degree we are today recovering the importance of the life of the senses in liturgy. This Jungian approach to societal prayer can assist in that recovery. Intuiting Prayer Intuiting prayer may be described as contemplative prayer drawing upon fantasy and imagination, as well as what might be called the prayer of emptiness or the "prayer of the vacant stare. The Jungian tradition uses the term "active imagination" to designate those behaviors in which we let images and symbols freely emerge from the unconscious and flow in consciousness. The term "active" could be misleading, if taken with a connotation of control or shaping reality. There is a sense in which this use of imagination is not active but passive, as the person's posture is one of receptivity. The orientation of such prayer is to what might be, to futuresdreamed of rather than planned. As Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 667 the five senses and the interior sense are the vehicles of sensing prayer, so the gift of imagination is what carries intuiting prayer. But, in my opinion, the intuiting function can be at work in prayer even when images are not freely flowing. The vacant stare into space aptly symbolizes a contemplative posture in prayer which is aptly subsumed under intuiting prayer. In such prayer the mind is not occupied with thoughts, the imagination is not delivering images or symbols, and the heart is not strongly surging toward the good. Such prayer of emptiness appears to differ sharply from the prayer of a simple regard, even though both forms are characterized by an absence of thoughts, images, and strong feelings. The difference consists in the focused or unfocused character of the gaze. To use a playful distinction which I once heard Brother David Rast employ, in the prayer of simple regard we are now/here, fully present to the present actuality of life, whereas in what I call the prayer of the vacant stare we are no/where (recall that the Greek term for nowhere is Utopia). Centering Prayer In this context it is worth asking just where "centering prayer" as developed by Fr. Basil Pennington is best situated from the standpoint of the four Jungian functions.8 My own inclination is to view it as a form of intuiting prayer. It is true that centering prayer makes use of a word in the journey to the center; and, as we shall see, the word in prayer belongs primarily to the thinking function. But here the word is functioning not as a mediator of rational meaning but as a carrier of the spirit to the beyond. Centering prayer .has a predominantly unfocused character and brings us to a certain emptiness. Hence I would put it with intuiting prayer. All of this having been said, here are some examples of intuiting prayer for the individual. 1) We have just discussed a first form, centering prayer in the proper sense. 2) The familiar "contemplations" of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius are appropriately listed under intuiting prayer. But it needs to be noted that these contemplations of the mysteries of the life of Jesus belong also to feeling prayer, as we will see. The imagination is exercised with freedom, but with a view to drawing the heart in love. It is the feeling function, we shall se~, which relates to the past through reminiscence. Perhaps a large part of the power of the Ignatian contemplations consists in the fact that both the dreaming imagination and the heart are drawn on to energize the retreatant engaged in the process of "election." Something similar may be said of the contemplation of the mysteries of the rosary. The imagination freely recreates a scene which contains in symbolic form deep Christian values. 3) Various kinds of fantasy in prayer have an intuitive character. Anthony de Mello's book here again contains some interesting exercises, Christian and non-Christian, under the general heading of "Fantasy." Some which might appear at first to be quite macabre can be a source of intense joy and peace: 661~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 attending your own funeral, or the "fantasy on the corpse" which Fr. de Mellow borrowed from the Buddhist series of "reality meditations." 4) Ira Progoff's "Intensive Journal," both in the sections devoted to dealing with dreams and in the various kinds of dialogues, offers an abundance of forms of intuiting prayer. The dialogues may be said to combine intuiting and thinking prayer, the latter because of the dialogue form of the prayer. 5) Praying with the help of symbols engages the intuitive function in a way that can energize us greatly. The journey, the cave, the house, the tree, the Cross, the City--these are just a few of the symbolic possibilities of intuitive prayer. Books of the Bible such as the Fourth Gospel and the Book of Revelation are a source of abundant Christian symbols which can be explored in prayer. 6) Finally, one may prayerfully explore God's call by asking the question, "What would it be like if . " envisaging oneself in alternative human situations, dreaming of new ways of one's pilgrimage. Intuiting Prayer for Groups Many of the approaches to intuiting prayer just described for the individual can be adapted for groups which are praying or prayerfully reflecting together. For example, a community which has gone off to the country or to the shore for some time together might have a very meaningful time of common prayer by having each member bring back some nature-object which symbolizes something important for that person. In planning for the year ahead, a community might put to itself the question, "What would it be like if . "making sure not to become too quickly pragmatic and sensible in dealing with the dreams of particular members for life in common. Another exercise of intuiting prayer in common might be to invite each member to select a Scripture passage which is symbolic of some aspect of the community's life, and to share the passages, taking care to be contemplative, without the need for discussion or response. Intuiting in Liturgical Prayer Lyrics from two well-known religious songs aptly characterize the intuitive element which ought to be present in any liturgical celebration. "Take us beyond the vision of this moment." and "Look beyond the bread you eat . "This note of "beyond," or (in Hopkins' poem, "The Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo") "yonder," corresponds to the eschatological quality of Christian faith. In sacramental celebration, it is the complexus of ritual gestures and of symbols which principally contains the invitation to dream, to be open to a limitless future which is God. Psychologically, this facet of good liturgy is effectively present when the congregation as a whole shares, in joyful hope, this unfocused contemplative expectation of future blessing. Though it may find verbal expression, for example within the readings of the celebration, its primary vehicle will be symbol, inviting to the "vacant stare.~ Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 669 Feeling Prayer Forms of prayer which correspond to the feeling function are rather easily described. They will be exercises of prayer characterized by affection, intimacy, and the devout movement of the heart. More specifically, feeling prayer takes place when the exercise of memory in gratitude or compunction brings us back to the roots whence our values are derived, when we come back home, so to speak, in the mysteries of the Gospel, the origins of a particular religious heritage, or the sources in our own personal life through which the gift of faith came to us. The third section of de Mello's Sadhana contains an abundance of such exercises of prayer. Here is a briefer listing of some forms: l) Any form of prayer in which affective dialogue takes place, with God, with Jesus or Mary or any of the saints, or with those who have been important in our personal life, verifies this kind of prayer. In the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, the contemplation of the mysteries leads to such affectionate "colloquy," in which the grace being sought includes a growth in intimate love. 2) Aspirations, when they are repeated with a view to stirring the heart, are a second way of exercising feeling prayer. The "Jesus prayer" of the Eastern tradition, when said with a view to engaging the affections, is a major example. 3) One can also wander "down memory lane" in one's own life, recalling the persons, the experiences, the behaviors, which have had great influence on one's growth. Such prayer of the heart can often be combined with the exercise of imagination, as we recreate a scene of childhood, for example, or tender moments later in life which make us grateful. Gratitude and compunction are the two distinctive graces of such kinds of prayer. For each one of us, the past contains both the gifts of God, especially in the form of the goodness of persons, and our failure to respond trustingly and generously to those gifts. 4) All of us have favorite hymns and songs, and sometimes in solitary prayer our hearts can be deeply mox~ed by singing them quietly, or letting their melodies flow through our inner consciousness. 7he Feeling Function in Group Prayer When groups pray together with some regularity, it can help occasionally if the prayer is directed toward the heart. This calls for discretion, of course, for even when the members know each other well there will remain considerable differences in the ability and desire to manifest emotion in common prayer. But experience will show just what is possible and desirable. Music and song is an easy vehicle, usually unembarrassing. The group might listen to an endearing hymn, or to some instrumental music which appeals to the heart. Story telling, the sharing of personal history about a theme important for the faith life of the group, is another simple and easy way of being together in an affectionate way. 671) / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 Spontaneous prayer, in which people are free to pray aloud and from the heart, can also deepen the bonds of affection within a community, and strengthen the common commitment to shared values. This is an appropriate place to mention the relationship of spiritual direction. At least in a broad sense it is part of the prayer life of both the director and the one being directed. It calls for the engagement of all four of the functions. But, inasmuch as it is an intimate relationship of two persons of faith and aimed at the fostering of Gospel values in the life of the person being directed, it calls particularly for the exercise of the feeling function. This is not the place to discuss the question of friendship within this relationship of spiritual direction, apart from observing that there are contrary views on the subject. But, whatever discretion may be called for to preserve the character of the dialogue as one of spiritual, direction, it remains a situation where the feeling function is expressed interpersonally. Feeling in Public Prayer From'what has already been said readers will be able to describe for themselves the aspects of liturgical prayer and other forms of public prayer which correspond to the feeling function. There is significant difference, of course, between the face-to-face prayer of a small group and the largely anonymous quality of public prayer in large assemblages. There will be corresponding differences, therefore, in the ways in which this side of our humanity finds expression. In my opinion, one of the imbalances of recent years with regard to our expectations of liturgy is that we have often expected it to nourish intimacy in ways beyond its power. Concomitantly, we have tended to lose contact with the deep enrichment which can come to our affective life from such experiences of faith. However one may be personally disposed toward the large gatherings of charismatics which have become such an important part of public prayer and worship, it needs to be said that the charismatic movement is more effectively in touch with this facet of our humanity than most people are. Some of the scenes in which John Paul II has been involved in his worldwide travels provide a further illustration of the energy which flows from religious values through societal prayer and worship. In particular, hymns sung by thousands of voices can be memorable in their impact, as anyone who has been to Lourdes or Rome can testify. The Thinking Function in Prayer I have left the thinking function till last for a few reasons. One is that I find it to be neglected and even, at times, disparaged. Why this is the case is understandable in relationship to the rediscovery of the life of feeling which has taken place in Roman Catholic circles in recent decades. Prayer had, in many respects, become too "cognitized," partly through a reduction of the Ignatian tradition to what was conceived as the Ignatian method of prayer as Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 671 exemplified in the well-known schema of a nineteenth-century Jesuit general, John-Baptist Roothan. In any case the thinking function in prayer has a rather poor press nowadays. Even Anthony de Mello writes, A word about getting out of your head: The head is not a very good place for prayer. It is not a bad place for starting your prayer. But if your prayer stays there too long and doesn't move into the heart it will gradually dry up and prove tiresome and frustrating. You must learn to move out of the area of thinking and talking and move into the area of feeling, sensing, loving, intuiting? Ft. de Mello is faithful to this conviction, for his book is divided into three parts, corresponding more or less to the sensing, intuiting, and feeling functions. There is no section on thinking prayer. Doesn't something more positive need to be said about our capability of meeting God through the rational mind? Surely it is no less important a part of God's image in us than the life of sense, feeling, and imagination. And, within the unity of the person, it is intimately linked in its workings with the operations of these other facets of our humanity. But instead of arguing theoretically for a place for thinking in prayer, let me offer some examples of how one may pray with the rational mind. l) A clear instance of thinking prayer for the individual is the famous "First Principle and Foundation" of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. I can ponder it during a period of prayer and, first, try to appreciate its simple logic in the linkage of purpose, means, and attitude. After savoring its truth I can then examine my life to see where there is order and-where there is disorder, and just what area calls for the struggle to be free from inordinate affections. Knowing that I cannot free myself, I can turn to ask God's help. Then I can make a few practical resolutions touching some steps on the road to freedom. Such highly cognitive activities in prayer are really prayer, and not merely preliminaries to prayer. 2) Prayer may also take the form of setting down a personal charter or set of basic principles by which I wish to live, e.g., "Every human being I meet is worthy of my respect." Periodically I can review this set of principles in order to evaluate and improve my fidelity. 3) I may choose also to draw up for myself a plan of life, which would include a daily or weekly schedule of prayer, reading, provisions for work and leisure, practice with respect to money, and so forth. 4) From time to time I may wish to take a book of the Bible, and, with the help of a good commentary, carefully and systematically over a period of some weeks seek a deeper grasp of God's word, attending to the structure of the work, its cultural setting, the precise meaning of terms, and so forth. I may wish to write my own paraphrase of the book, or use the text as the basis of my own reflections. Most of us are accustomed to contrast prayer and study. But when study of God's word takes place within a life of faith and for the purpose of fostering faith, I believe that it lacks nothing of the reality of prayer itself. 679 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 Thinking Prayer in Groups Not all group prayer needs to be self-revelatory and strongly interpersonal in its character. The common recitation of the Office or prayer of the Church is a good example of communal thinking prayer. Such prayer is characterized by clear structure, orderly procedure, and the absence of strong emotions. While it would be untrue to say that affectivity is absent, what prevails is a sense of meaning and purpose. Especially when such prayer includes reading a passage from Scripture or from some other source, the mind's desire for meaning is being fed. Spiritual reading, which is another form of thinking prayer for individuals which might have been mentioned, can also take place within a group united in faith. Thinking in Liturgical Prayer Liturgical celebration, especially when it occurs in larger assemblies of people, takes on a societal or public character. The very term liturgy conveys this, of course. Inasmuch as the movement from the private to the public in all dimensions of our life involves a significant shift of behavioral attitudes, it brings to the fore the thinking side of our personality. As we begin to relate to people outside the circle of intimacy, it becomes necessary to create conven-tions, etiquettes, structures, which provide us with supports and safeguards as we relate to larger and more anonymous gatherings of people. It is for such reasons that our liturgical celebrations contain a good deal of structure and ritual gesture, and tend to be less highly personal than informal prayer in small groups. More of the thinking side of our humanity needs to be engaged when we celebrate the Eucharist and other ceremonies on a large scale. Similarly to what was said previously about sensing prayer in public worship, I think that we can be helped to understand both the tensions and the failures which have characterized our experience of liturgical worship during the past few decades if we bring to bear on them an understanding of personality types. At the risk of being simplistic one might say that the Tridentine liturgy had become ossified and institutionalistic in its absolutizing of the thinking mode of public worship. This made it understandable that, in the swing of the pendulum in recent decades, we experienced some loss of the basic sense of structure, decorum, and ritual which needs to preside over our public prayer. Some (not all) of the negative reactions to the kiss of peace probably stem from an uneasiness lest the distinction of private and public worship be overlooked. The present juncture, I would say, is a time when we need to recapture, without returning to rigorism and institutionalism, the rich energies of a thinking kind contained in our sacramental and liturgical traditions. We will pray much better in public if we prize this aspect of our .humanity and of our Christian prayer. Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer Further Considerations Up to now this article has offered principally a correlation of forms of prayer, chiefly individual but also interpersonal and societal, with the four functions of the Jungian personality types. As has already been said, we should be wary of too easy identification of any of the sixteen types with one or other preferred way of praying. It is not one's type alone but a variety of factors which affect our attractions in prayer. Two of these factors will now be discussed briefly. They concern 1) prayer as an exercise of leisure; 2) prayer in the stages of human development. Prayer and Leisure One plausible theory which one hears voiced in Jungian circles would have it that, when we turn from the areas of work and profession to the exercise of leisure, there is a spontaneous inclination in the psyche to move from a more preferred to a less preferred side of our personality. In terms of the functions this would mean, for example, that a person whose work or ministry calls for a great deal of extraverted intuiting--being with people in situations which call for a good deal of creative imagination--will spontaneously seek relaxation after labor by some quiet exercise of sensing: baking a cake with careful attention to measurements, or working at one's stamp collection, or hooking a rug according to a given pattern. Similarly, someone whose work is highly analytical and impersonal, let us say in dealing with a computer, might want to relax by sharing a Tchaikovsky concert or a TV sitcom with a few friends. Such a suggestion makes a good deal of sense, especially in view of the natural mechanisms of compensation which seem to be built into our psychic life. If one then adds the similarly plausible suggestion that prayer is or ought to be an exercise of leisure, then we would appear to have a useful criterion for evaluating our forms of prayer, and for suggesting new approaches to prayer, particularly when we seem to be getting nowhere. In such a view, we might profitably ask ourselves from time to time whether our behavior in prayer does not tend to be too much a compulsive continuation of the kind of behavior which we prefer in our work or ministry. And we might, if such is the case, deliberately seek ways of praying which helped to disengage us from such compulsive patterns. Someone whose primary gift, for example, is introverted intuiting, and who spends a good deal of time in the course of the day exercising that gift, might deliberately choose some extraverted sensing forms of prayer, for example, praying the rosary with simple attention to the words, the touch of the beads, and so forth. Or someone whose ministry makes heavy emotional demands---caring for the senile or the retarded, or counselling disturbed people, for example--might find some interior exercise of thinking prayer to be balancing and eventually attractive. One small suggestion regarding this experiencing of leisu're in prayer. It should take place, like all prayer, not by violence but by attrai:tion. It might well be that, though one appreciates the value of shifting gears when one 674 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 approaches prayer, it is not so easy to disengage from one's favored behavior. One might have to make an entry through the preferred function, especially an auxiliary function, before learning to exercise a less preferred function, especially the inferior function, in prayer. This use of the auxiliary function to wean us away from too exclusive a reliance on the dominant function is part of a Jungian strategy of individuation. It would seem to be applicable to strategies in prayer. For example, if thinking is my dominant function and I exercise it abundantly in my work, I may find myself attached to it even when I come to prayer. Instead of directly trying to rouse myself to feeling prayer, I might begin by letting my auxiliary sensing direct my gaze to particular objects, interior or exterior, which in turn and in due time may stir my heart to affective prayer. The philosophy of non-violence has an important area of application in prayer. Prayer and Development Numerous are the theories which, in the present century, have sought to plot the course of human development, in its cognitive, affective, social and ethical aspects. The well-known names of Piaget, Maslow, Erikson, Fowler, and others have provided rich insights into the various facets of growth. One characteristic of a Jungian perspective on development is that, in the light of the diversity of personality types, it will be wary of imposing a monOlithic pattern on the wide variety of human preferences. When prayer is viewed in this light, there are some salutary cautions and perhaps some qualifications of long-standing assumptions .about progress in prayer. Dr. W. Harold Grant has, for some years, been investigating the hypothesis of our ~pe.riods of differentiated human development, starting at age six and ending at fifty, with major switching points taking place at twelve, twenty, and thirty-five. In each of the four periods, according to the hypothesis, the person would be developing one of the four functions: the dominant in childhood, the auxiliary in adolescence, the third function in early adulthood, and, from the age of thirty-five on, the inferior function. The hypothesis includes also an alternation of introversion and extraversion in the successive periods. Prior to age six and subsequent to age fifty development would be taking place more randomly, and not selectively, as in the four periods between six and fifty. If one accepts this as a plausible hypothesis, some implications for forms of prayer at the differe.nt stages of life would seem to be present. First, one would be open to the possibility that the spontaneous employ of sense, imagination, reason, and affection in prayer may not be uniform for all persons or types. Any such prevailing assumption that growth in prayer takes place first by the use of reason and imagination and then, in a darknight experience, by their cessation, might have to yield to a view which acknowledges more diversity in the way in which the attachment/detachment phenomenon takes place in different types of personalities. Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 675 Secondly, the hypothesis may help to throw light on crisis periods in people's prayer lives, by suggesting that the emergence of a new function-- especially of the inferior function about the age of thirty-fiv~e--may be signaled through the decline or collapse of previously fruitful ways of praying. It might also suggest that the person involved in such a crisis might do well to explore some alternative ways of praying, ways which would be in keeping with whatever function was seeking to find its place in consciousness. Let us think, for example, of persons in whom feeling is dominant, experiencing something of a crisis in prayer around mid-life. They might do well, with the help of a. director, to exercise their thinking side in prayer, for example, by keeping a journal in which reflection on the meaning of what they are experiencing, or meditation on the meaning of some scriptural passages, was cultivated. It should be obvious that these two factors, touching the question of leisure and the question of diversity in human development, do not exhaust the sources which make for different experiences in prayer. Factors stemming from each person's unique personal history will be at least as important in deciding what course we wish to chart in prayer. And ultimately, as has already been said, it is the attraction of the Spirit of God at every juncture of life which is the primary determinant of how we choose to pray. Conclusion But if it all comes down at last to attraction, why bother consulting the Jungian types for help in praying? For two principal reasons. First, such a consultation will make us wary of being misled by stereotypes of prayer and of progress in prayer, and particularly of the monolithic character of many descriptions of growth in prayer, even among the great classics. And secondly, when persons are in a time of crisis or barrenness in prayer, they may be helped in dealing with the situation if they have had some practice in a variety of ways of praying, and if they realize the affinity between these various ways and the different functions within the Jungian personality types. With the reservations we have indicated in this article, acquaintance with one's type through the MBTI can help foster better praying. NOTES ~See, for example, Morton Kelsey, The Other Side of Silence, (New York: Paulist, 1976); idem, Transcend: A Guide to the Spiritual Quest, (New York: Crossroad, 1981); John Sanford, Healing and Wholeness, (New York: Paulist, 1977); idem, The Invisible Partners, New York: Paulist, 1980); Wallace B. Clift, Jung and Christianity: The Challenge of Reconcilation, (New York: Crossroad, 1982); John Welch, Spiritual t~'lgrims: Carl Jung and Teresa of Avila, (New York: Paulist, 1982); Robert Doran, "Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality," P~vtEw FOr RELtatot/s 38 (1979), pp. 497-510; 742-52; 857-66. 2See Isabel Briggs Myers, Gifts Differing, (Palo Alto: Consulting Psychologists Press, 1980). 676 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 3See Christopher Bryant, Heart in Pilgrimage: Christian Guidelines for the Human Journey, (New York: Seabury, 1980), pp. 182-195; Robert Repicky, "Jungian Typology and Christian Spirituality," REVtEW FOR REMGtOVS, 40 (1981) pp. 422-435. 4See W. Harold Grant, Mary Magdala Thompson, Thomas E. Clarke, From Image to likeness: A Jungian Path in the Gospel Journey, (New York: Paulist, 1983). SAPT publishes a newsletter, MBTI News, for its membership, and is based at 414 S.W. 7th Terrace, Gainesville, FL 32601. 6See Anthony de Mello, Sadhana: A Way to God, (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1979). 7See Thomas E. Clarke, "Toward Wholeness in Prayer," in: William R. Callahan & Francine Cardman, 7he Wind ls Rising: Prayer Ways for Active People (Hyattsville, MD: Quixote Center, 1978), pp. 18-20. sSee Thomas Keating, M. Basil Pennington, Thomas E. Clarke, Finding Grace at the Center, (Still River, MA: St. Bede Publications, 1978). 9De Mello, p. 13. The Time for Figs There twinges in my heart A pity for that fig tree--barren-- Caught up within the eyes of Christ, Cursed by his lips. There echo in my soul Defenses for the tree's unburdened limbs Held light against the sky-- Perhaps because it's I who am the fig tree, content to wait the seasons out. But now is the time for figs-- Season or not-- IX, e looked for the sun too long, Yearned for the rain to come and comfort me, The earth to gather and to nourish. It is the time for figs-- The hungry and the weak pass by And the blossoms are an empty, bitter food. It is the time for bearing. Oh, Jesus. look again on me And cause in me such heaviness of fruit That it shall fall unreached for round your foot. The season is ripe: It is the time for figs. Sister Ann Maureen. I.H.M. 11201 Academy Road Philadelphia, PA 19154 Prayer of the Paschal Mystery: Sorrow in the Risen Lord's Company David Hassel, S.J. In this article Father Hassel continues to explore the subject of Radical Prayer (also the title of his recent book). His last article for us, "The Prayer of Daily Decisioning: Hungering for God's Will," appeared in the issue of May/June, 1983. He continues to live and teach at Loyola University, where he may be addressed: Jesuit Community; Loyola University of Chicago; 6525 North Sheridan Road; Chicago, 1L 60626. Prayer, taken radically, is a deep attitude towards life, a basic way of living in the world with God and with others. Thus prayer of reminiscence is characterized by an attitude of thankfulness; prayer of Christ's memories (Gospel prayer), by a deep wanting to companion Christ; prayer of listening-waiting., by a strong trusting in God's graciousness; prayer of contemplation; by an aCtitude of welcome to God and his worldJ How, then, would one characterize the attitude behind the life and prayer of the Paschal Mys~ery.'~ . One of the presumed grand masters of the spiritual life, Ignatius Loyola, 3 . challenges, even shocks, us when he describes the life of the Paschal Mystery and thereby implies the type of prayerful attitude of humility which, he thinks, animates this life: The most perfect kind of humility [its third stage] consists in this . Whenever the praise and glory of the Divine Majesty would be equally served, in order to imitate and be in reality more like Christ our Lord, I desire and choose poverty with Christ poor, rather than riches; insults with Christ loaded with them, rather than honors; I desire to be accounted as worthless and a fool for Christ, rather than to be esteemed as wise and prudent in this world. So Christ was treated before me.3 At first sight, this third stage of humility, i.e., this prayerful attitude of Paschal- Mystery life, appears to be incredibly negative. It is seemingly a rejection of contemporary incarnation theology which so strongly emphasizes creativity and the resurrection. In Ignatius' description of the Paschal-Mystery life, the 677 6711 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 crucified Christ seems alone to occupy one's vision, and the good Christian appears to ambition nothing more than poverty, ignominy, and degradation. In such a pessimistic, if not inhumane, way of life and prayer, Christ's resurrection and the Christian's consequent joyful creativity would seem to have little place. The shock increases when it dawns on the person praying within the Spiritual Exercises that Ignatius considered this third stage of humility the very heart of the Gospels for all Christians and not simply the storm center of life for his Jesuit sons.4 Could, then, this third stage be accurately describing the prayerful attitude and life of the Paschal Mystery? Is it possible that, in grappling with Ignatius' description, we could come to understand more satisfactorily this mystery of Christ's death and resurrection occurring within us? If such wrestling is to be worth our time, then our first effort should be to deal with those initial distracting fears and angers surfacing against the challenge of this third stage of humility. Having thus somewhat freed our hearts and minds, we could then more fairly check out whether or not Ignatius' third stage of humility expresses truly, though only partially, the Paschal Mystery of the Gospels. If it should do so, then we are ready to catch, within our experience, the four scriptural pulse-beats which may define our attitudinal prayer of the Paschal Mystery. Following this, we could seek out the signs of 'he Paschal Mystery felt within our prayer experience and later describe some imple ways of deepening this prayer within us. Here it is notable how Paschal- Mystery prayer may well be a basic attitude towards all of life even amid acute suffering. Could it possibly turn out to be a strengthening joy (the risen Christ himself?.) within our demanding apostolic endeavors? Fears Diverting Us from Praying the Third Stage of Humility On first hearing Ignatius' third stage of humility proposed, most of us experience deep fears. These quickly smother any attempts at considering, luch more praying over, this terrible challenge to our sensibility and to our .ationality. Consequently, before even trying to understand the third stage of aumility as an expression of the Paschal-Mystery life, we must face these powerful fears.5 One initial fear is that my educated skills will be lost in the muddle of becoming poor with Christ poor. My education is a richness not appreciated by the uneducated poor and not supportable in impoverished circumstances. Ask the U.S.-educated Filipino physician or Indian technician returned to his native city if this is not the case. This means that I will rarely get the time or have the equipment to pursue my art or music or sociology or psychology or computer mathematics or history or engineering~ My talents will lie dormant and later atrophied; my personality will be impoverished and made dull; my angry frustration, like a corrosive agent, will burn me out. Indeed, identification with the poor Christ would eventually strip away all prize possessions like my car; stereophonic tape and recording deck, modish Prayer of the Paschal Mystery / 679 clothes, well-stocked refrigerator, the social rounds with close friends, regular opportunities for vacations, long-distance telephone calls, comfortable bank-account, and a few other precious items. For, when one identifies with the poor in their work, neighborhood, and life-style, one inevitably assumes their ways no matter how skilled, talented or comfortably endowed one may be. A second source of fear is the call to identify with Christ dishonored. If my~ skills, talents and perquisites are enfeebled, I will certainly become less effective' in my work, perhaps, too, in my human relationships. Where once before I was respected for my skillful intelligence, artistic finesse, and guaranteed delivery of promised products; now; I am seen as the bumbler. This, in turn, could well involve a distancing from my friends, not simply because I no longer look good to them but more because our times together will be fewer, our interests different, and our cultural neighborhoods far apart. In other words, like Christ's poor, I will be gradually reduced to being a marginal person whose voice is no longer heard in the councils of the great or small. I will be lost in the masses. This last statement reveals the root-source of all ~my fears concerning the third stage of humility: self-annihilation. The fear of death, the most powerful dread of my life, repels me from the embrace of the third stage. I do not want to be the grain of wheat dying to produce a further harvest. I do not want to lose control of my life, my developing personality, my destiny. The third stage seems to demand a total trust--something which I am willing to award only to myself. Living the third stage of humility appears to be slow suicide. Historical examples abound to let me know that my fears are well grounded. Damien of Molakai identified only too well with his sick lepers and was rewarded with government disdain. Many founders of religious orders have discovered themselves made marginal within their own communities when they identified too fully with the maligned Christ; for example, Francis of Assisi, Madeline Sophie Barat, Cornelia Connelly, and Guillaume Chami-nade. 6 Teilhard de Chardin, a man all his life hidden in Christ, was considered a dangerous fool by the superorthodox Christians and a silly fool by those appreciative of his writings and paleontological competence but not compre-hending of his obedience to Church authorities.7 More recently in El Salvador, Archbishop Romero and Rutilio Grande were hated, disparaged, and then assassinated in the same way as their despised campesino friends with whom they identified,s In response to these fears stimulated by the third stage of humility, one may say that those living this stage can die to one career and then rise to a new one far more fruitful for the Church. Note how Mother Teresa of Calcutta moved out of the classroom and her congregation to dedicate her life to those literally dying in the streets of Calcutta and to the founding of a new worldwide congregation. One can also point out that those living the third stage develop new talents and skills to their own great surprise as when one priest of my acquaintance, being ordered under obedience to do spiritual 6111} / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 direction with some difficult personalities, discovered a new ability for counseling and a fresh realism of judgment which made him much more effective in classroom and pulpit, his first interest. As a third instance of victory coming out of defeat, notice how voices, suppressed or muffled with dishonor before the Second Vatican Council, now echo more strongly than ever within and outside the Church. I speak of Yves Congar, Karl Rahner, Henri de Lubac, and John Courtney Murray. Their sufferings, undergone in silent loyalty to the Church, have validated their insights and given new life to the Church. Just as the missionary letters of that long-dead "failure," Francis Xavier, populated the sixteenth-century novitiates and lured thousands to the missions; so, the lives of these contemporary heroes for Christ raise hope and ambition in countless Christians to serve the Church and her anawim (the marginal and powerless people). The above responses to fears of the third stage are unfortunately only slight glimpses into that Paschal-Mystery attitude which Ignatius' third stage of humility attempts to express. Their inadequacy is painful. Yet they indicate how greatly faith and trust enter into the living of the Paschal Mystery. This does demand of us a remarkable willingness to entrust our priceless skills, talents, possessions, reputation, friends, and hopes into the hands of the poor, dishonored, and unappreciated Christ. The great temptation is to refuse this ultimate trust lest one lose all comfort, much respect from others, and a satisfying career, when actually this "death" through trust may be the final and fullest growth of person in the Christian. The Third Stage of Humility and the Paschal Mystery If living the third stage of humility should turn out to be a deep living of the Paschal Mystery and therefore to be at the heart of the Gospel, then evidently one could never totally comprehend this third stage any more than one could exhaustively understand the Paschal Mystery. But at least one can attempt to remove some of the blinding misunderstandings of the third stage which keep people from appreciating and from living the Paschal Mystery. In other words, the best one can do here is to remove exterior obstacles for the one wishing to pray and to live the third stage of humility. Then, as this person enters into the Paschal Mystery, his or her life will be illumined and directed by a new wisdom--a wisdom which slowly dawns within any person attempting to identify more and more with Christ poor and dishonored. First of all, a frequent charge against the third stage of humility is that it is anti-creationist. This would be true if its expression of the heart of the Gospels did not fit well the first two chapters of Genesis, the first four chapters of the Letter to the Ephesians, and the first chapter of the Letter to the Colossians, where man and woman are to complete God's creation by mastering and developing it. Therefore, the third stage, if it be validly Christian, must mean that identification with Christ poor and dishonored is a creative act. It cannot be, even implicitly, a depreciation or suppression of those human skills, talents, Prayer of the Paschal Mystery / 611"1 and opportunities which make woman, man, and the universe more beautiful and more joyful. Otherwise the third stage as an attempted expression of the Paschal Mystery is inhumane and is to be regarded as unchristian. Consequently, it is vicious to interpret the third stage as insisting that we ask for and directly seek out sickness, business failure, loss of friendship, defeat, the misery of poverty, and the humiliation of dishonor in order to become closer to Christ. This would be to make the third stage a depraved description of the Paschal Life--as though it were requiring that we pursue evil in order to be more perfect Christians. Such a. style of life would not only destroy its pursuants but seriously injure all the people whom the pursuants are trying to serve and companion. Such spiritual athleticism based on a totally negative theology of the cross exemplifies more a gross pride than a Christlike humility. Man has been given a free and inventive nature so that he can cooperate with a free and inventive God to make the world more beautifully humane. In this way, man and woman attain full manhood and womanhood, that is, they become more like the risen Christ. Indeed, the Lord has promised his close followers that they will receive a hundredfold "houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and land--not without persecutions--now in this present time and, in the world to come, eternal life" (Mk 10:29-30; Mt 19:27-30; Lk 18:31-33- Jerusalem Bible). It is precisely those living the third stage who are more eligible, amid persecutions, for this hundredfold of creative joy based on interpersonal relationships. Secondly, this hundredfold is guaranteed by the Christ of today, the risen Christ, who is the present Lord of the universe and the future culmination of all history. Nevertheless this Christ, under the Father, has freely chosen, even preferred, for himself and for his followers, to win his kingdom through suffering as well as joy, through defeat as well as victory. For the risen Christ is also the Christ of the passion and death; he carries the wounds in his risen body. But because he is the resurrected, immortal Lord, no Christian's suffering or defeat will be without the joy of his strengthening presence. For this rea.son, underneath the sufferings described in the third stage of humility, there must be a strong and perduring joy, namely the strength by which the suffering Christian perdures without bitterness. This is, of course, the Paschal Mystery working itself out, as simultaneous crucifixion and resurrection, in the life of every true Christian. More specifically, this joy would be union with Christ and oneness with his Church. There is a third reason for suspecting that a joyful creativity strengthens the living of the third stage: God's every action in the universe is meant to make all the human participants more human. After all, God's glory, as extrinsic to his own being, is precisely and more fully the wholesomeness of humankind, the fuller womanhood and manhood of each person. The paradox occurs when the Christian is asked to trust that a particular suffering or sorrow will not end in a diminishment, but rather in an enhancing of his or her person, so long as 6112 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 the pain is borne trustingly in and with Christ suffering. To look back twenty. years and to reflect with Christ upon a particular calamity is, often enough, to discover in oneself an important growth-period. But even if an objector to the third stage of humility were to agree that underlying this state would be a strengthening joy and peace, he could still accuse the third stage of encouraging individualism, simply a "me and Jesus suffering" type of piety. This forces us to clarify what is meant when the third stage urges us "to choose poverty with Christ poor, rather than riches; insults with Christ loaded with them, rather than honors." The question is: "Who is this Christ?" Is he only the historical Christ of Nazareth or is he also the mystical Christ which is the Church and which is unified by the one presence of the risen historical Christ? Because the Ignatian Exercises are aimed at enabling the retreatant to make decisions which will expand the kingdom of Christ according to Christ's standard, the Christ of the third stage must be also the Mystical Christ, the Church. Thus, the third stage of humility is basically other-centered. It makes little sense unless it represents a deeper loyalty to the historical risen Christ and to his people. Its inner dynamic is, then, to put the retreatant in contact with the poor, the abandoned, the lonely, the twisted, the sick, the unhappy of Matthew's famous last-judgment scene (25:31-46): "whatever you did to the least of these brothers of mine, you did to me." The third stage of humility, then, as an expression of the Paschal Mystery has a powerful apostolic thrust because it not only rises out of the deepest personal loyalty to the risen historical Christ of Nazareth but reaches out in wholehearted social loyalty to the Mystical Christ, the Church. Naturally, if the Christian lives deeply with these poor and dishonored of Christ, he will become marked with their characteristics. Let a priest or layman work closely with the homosexual community and he will be labeled a homosexual and treated accordingly. Let a laywoman or a nun work in a woman's rights organization and she will be labeled fanatic, abortion-minded, man-hating. The psychiatrist spending long hours with the mentally disturbed risks not only his own mental health but also the stigma of being considered "a mere shrink." It is literally dangerous to live the third stage and to identify with Christ's poor and dishonored. Thus this basic attitude of the third stage is no mere mental fiction--for example, a mental trick to be used for giving one balance against the inclina-tions of Original Sin towards the easier way of life. It is, on the contrary, a real preference to be with Christ's suffering people, a definite mind-set and heart-set which enable the Christian to do pioneer work wherever people are hurting most from neglect and weakness. Such an attitude also enables the sick person to accept his or her illness positively as an opportunity for knowing Christ better and for contributing in some hidden way to the good of Christ's people. It enables, too, the South American labor-organizer to risk his life in order to rescue his people from economic slavery and psychological degradation. Prayer of the Paschal Mystery / 15113 All this takes for granted that suffering and sorrow can be creative moments in the Christian's life. Not that suffering and sorrow of themselves are creative; they are destructive in themselves--unless good is drawn out of their evil. But the person living the third stage of humility as an expression of the Paschal Mystery is convinced in faith that God the Father intends to draw good out of the evils spawned by personal sin and by original sin. Further, he is sure that Christ the Son has preferred to achieve the liberation of man through suffering, and that the Holy Spirit prefers to achieve the unification of the Church and of mankind through human historical sufferings as he completes the universe. This is the central mystery of life, that God would want the world to reach its destiny through suffering and defeat as much as through joy and victorious accomplishment. Somehow, t.hrough suffering and sorrow, a depth of wisdom, patience and loyalty is reached, which in this present world is not available to those enjoying the easier life. Under the illumination of.Christ's resurrected life, this vital mystery of earthly suffering and joy is seen to be the Paschal Mystery of resurrection amid death, i.e., of creative power amid galling limitations and sharp agonies. This is why one can speak of creative suffering when dealing with the third stage of humility. In contrast to the stifling self-pity which arises in one who sees no reason for personal suffering except bad luck, the person of the third stage is aware that God does not waste a moment of human suffering. Instead, every twinge of pain, every throb of sorrow, every burning moment of fair and unfair humiliation, every blasted hope, can somehow, by God's providence, contribute to the final cooperative triumph of humanity and God: that Great Community of the Great Today and Tomorrow called the Communion of Saints. Man, however, must allow his sufferings and sorrows to become creative by identifying them with the risen Christ's passion and death. In this way a person wastes nothing. All his or her skills, talents, capacity to love, and opportunities to build a better world are focused positively on others and are not paralyzed by bitter self-pity. Indeed, this pers

Issue 56.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1997. ; for re,lig i ous Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST1997 ¯ VOLUME56 ¯ NUMBER4 Review for Religious (s a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practical, or inspirational, written from a tbeological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is pul31ished bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone:314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: FOPI~I~MA@SLU.I~I)U Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Hendersou, NC 27536 POSTMASTF~R 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. ©1997 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy auy material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creatio,i of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review fi3r Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez sJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY/AUGUST1997 * VOLUME56 ¯ NUMBER4 contents prayer 342 Evoking the Spirit: Reflections on How to Pray ¯ ~°~Richard Hauser SJ explores the role of the Spirit in bringing about a communion with God, the goal of all prayer methods. 359 Liturgy of the Hours: Path to Integration Judy Roxborough STJ describes how praying the Liturgy of the Hours in community offers many ways in which we can find unity and wholeness, with ourselves, with our commutfity, with the world, and with all of creation. 364 370 spiritual direction What Is a Spiritual Director's Authority? Steve R. Wigall refocuses the question about the spiritual director's authority by considering the role of the Holy Spirit and the directee's freedom in this ministry. Confidentiality Issues in Spiritual Direction Shaun McCarty ST explores the nature and necessity of confidentiality in the ministry of spiritual direction and also some legal considerations affecting its practice. Review for Relig4ous 378 387 psychology Psychology: An Aid to Religious Formation Sefin D. Sammon FMS considers three specific and pressing initial and ongoing formative challenges and examines how psychology may help. Mental-Health Consultation with Religious Orders Alexander H. Smith Jr. considers elements of effective consultation from the perspective of both consultant and community in order to inform, to caution, and to encourage well-grounded principles and practices. 4O2 412 consecrated life Visiting a Scene. of Election Janet K. Ruffing RSM focuses within congregational elections on the ongoing partnership and collaboration of each assembly member and the entire body with those who are elected. The Rewards of a Costly Community Roger Finke ~ses sociological data to demonstrate that new members are attracted to religious congregations that have a distinctive community and mission. 340 433 departments Prisms ~,~, /~,~ -,¢- -r~ Canonical Counsel: Levels of Legislation in an Institute Book Reviews July-August 1997 prisms Jesus Christ is central to our faith and to its practices. As we continue our preparations for celebrating the third millennium in the spirit of John Paul II's 1995 letter, we could well reflect on how central Jesus is to our life, our prayer, and our work--to our everyday world. Jesus identified himself as one "preaching the good news." Jesus, first and foremost, proclaimed himself an "evangelizer." He talked about God. He talked about God's sons and daughters. He talked about God's world. Everything Jesus described--the first rays of sunlight, birds nesting, an old woman giving her little bit of money in the temple; whatever he listened to--spring water flow-ing, a baby's cry, musicians at a wedding feast; things that he could smell and taste--the freshness of a spring rain, the rich flavor of wine; whatever he touched--the mud to put on a blind man's eyes, the coldness of a young man's dead body, the warmth of John's embrace, or the lock-tight hold of Mary Magdalen on -Easter morning: every-thing spoke to him of the wonder of each of God's creatures, but even deeper down the wonder and beauty of God. And so Jesus could tell simple stories about seeds and growth, about wedding banquets and joy, about being neighbors and doing good to battered strangers Every time, in every instance, he is talking about God and our dealings with God. There is a Latin verb--conversari~-which means "to turn in relation with" and thus "to interact with," "to have dealings with," "to engage," or "to converse with" (our English word conversation obviously derives from it). In the light of this Latin derivation, we might say that all R~iew for Religious. our conversation--all our "talking"--is much broader in meaning and takes in all our dealings with others. Jesus was an evangelizer in all his dealings with the men and women of his time. Every incident in the Gospels is a picture of Jesus evangelizing--engag-ing people in the divine context of their lives. What does that say about us as Jesus' followers? To be evan-gelizers we do not have to go off to school and get degrees in theology. We do not have to exile ourselves to another country. All we need do is deal with the people in our everyday world the way Jesus talked and dealt with the people in his ~veryday world. He presented to each person a new quality of life; he uncovered divine values beneath the surface of all our human dealings. But for us to act in such a way implies that our world and the events in our lives speak of God to us so that we can speak of God to others. Like Jesus, we have to become aware of a world alive in God. Isn't that an essential to the good news which we live and speak about and deal with others about? John Paul has stressed repeatedly that we are being called to a new evangelization. Today we call our effort a "new evange-lization" because our educated world seems so ignorant of Jesus' way bf seeing (seeing deeper down) and because we ourselves, whatever our vocation in life, whatever our age, whatever our tal-ents and .education, are newly conscious of our responsibilities to preach the good news. For us to be Christian, to be like Jesus, we must be missionary; we must be evangelizers. How do we, neophyte evangelizers, start to live in Jesus' world? By reading the Gospels. Throughout the rest of this year. dedicated especially to Jesus, we need to set an agenda for our-selves of reading the Gospels through--slowly and over and over again. We need to let their words, their stories, become the warp and woof of our lives. We will be imbibing Jesus' way of being an evangelizer. We will assume more and more a stance of dealing with people in Jesus'. kind of world--a world alive in God. Like Jesus, we will be doing our part in making ourselves and our world come alive.in God. Like Jesus, we will be preaching good news to the "poor," that is, those who have so little a sense of God's pres-ence permeating their everyday world. David L. Fleming sJ 3~uly-August 1997 prayer RICHARD J. HAUSER Evoking the Spirit: Reflections on How to Pray Students in my graduate spirituality classes frequently ask about the most effective method of prayer for attaining union with God. They ask whether centering prayer from The Cloud of Unknowing is more effective than lectio prayer from the Benedictine tradition. (Lectio prayer is short-hand for lectio-meditatio-oratio-contemplatio prayer, a method from the 12th century for praying with Scripture.) Recently claims have been made for one method over the other. I am uncomfortable with assumptions behind such ,questions: that a method is necessary, that one method is more effective than another, that the effects depend upon our activity. After teaching methods of prayer conscien-tiously for years, I have been led by experience to soften my assertions about the use of method. My uneasiness regarding methods relates primarily to people's almost Pelagian lack of awareness 6f the role of the Holy Spirit, in any method of prayer or spiritual dis-cipline. The basic question for all spirituality is how we ¯ integrate our human effort with the role of the Spirit. Pope John Paul's 1986 encyclical, "Lord and Giver of Life," offers an apt response. Reflecting upon the Gospel of John and Christ's promise.to send ;another advocate to take his place, the pope summarizes the Christian tradition Richard J. Hauser SJ is chair of the Department of Theology at Creighton University and director of its graduate programs in theology, ministry; and spirituality. This is his tenth article for our journal. ,His address is Creighton University; 2500 California Street; Omaha, Nebraska 68178. Revie'w for Religious. on the Holy Spirit as sanctifier: "The redemption accomplished by the Son in the dimensions of the earthly history of human-ity-- accomplished in the 'departure' through the cross and res-urrection- is at the same time, in its entire salvific power, transmitted to the Holy Spirit: the one who 'will take what is mine'" (§11). The pope echoes Vatican Council II's emphasis on the Holy Spirit by insisting we adequately understand Christian vocation only when we understand the role of the Holy Spirit: the entire effect of the redemption is brought about by the Holy Spirit. We post-Vatican II Christians are challenged,to renew our theolog-ical models of the church, of the self, and of spirituality in light of our renewed understanding of the work of the Holy Spirit--an understanding all but lost before the council. And we are then challenged to renew every spiritual discipline, including personal prayer. The Spirit and Vatican II: Shift in Models One shift in models concerns the church. In recent decades we have witnessed two different, ~ough complementary, models of church. Each model assigns a distinctive role to the Holy Spirit. (Since I am a Roman Catholic, my primary understanding of church is that of my own tradition, but I have learned that my insights are applicable to Protestant traditions as well.) In the first model the Holy Spirit is indeed present in the church, but the church is seen primarily as an institution governed by hierarchi-cal authority--for Catholics: priests, bishops, pope. The Holy Spirit guides the institution through the hierarchy, and the hier-archy, especially the local priest, guides the people. The institu-tion rests secure because an infallible guidance in faith and morals was promised to it. In the second or Vatican II model, the Holy Spirit is present in the church, but the church is seen as the peo-ple of God, the entire community of believers, head and members united in the one Body of Christ. While continuing to guide the church corporately, the Holy Spirit also guides the members indi-vidually. The following excerpts from chapter 1 of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen gentium) highlight this truth elegantly. The Spirit dwells in the church and in the hearts of the faithful as in a temple. In them he prays and bears wimess yuly-A ugust 1997 Hawser ¯ Evoking the Spirit to the fact that they are adopted sons. The Spirit guides the church into the fullness of truth and gives it a unity of fellowship and service. He furnishes and directs it with var-ious gifts, both hierarchical and charismatic, and adorns her with the fruits of his grace. In order that we may be unceasingly renewed in him [Jesus], he has shared with us his Spirit, who, existing as one and the same being in the head and in the members, vivifies, unifies, and moves the whole bod);. Another shift in models is related to the church as the Body of Christ and concerns the nature of the self. Christians are dis-covering anew a central element of the New Testament message: the role of the Spirit within the self. Before Vatican II this role was virtually absent from our consciousness; now it dominates theo-logical consciousness. The plethora of books on the Spirit and spirituality in recent years are a sign of this. What is the role of the Spirit within the self?. Our treatment of this topic must begin with the Last Supper discourse in John's Gospel. Jesus is comforting his disciples, having told them of his imminent departure. But now I am going to the one who sent me, and not one of you asks me, "Where are you going?" But because I told you this, grief has filled your hearts. But I tell you the truth, it is better for you that I go. For if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you. (Jn 16:5-7, revised NAB here and throughout) Jesus assures them it is better for them that he'goes; the, Spirit he sends will take his place, guiding and strengthening' them in their mission. Indeed, this union with himself through the Spirit is the condition for apostolic effectiveness. The Gospel could not be more clear: Remain in me, as I' remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so nei-ther can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are °the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing. (In 15:4-5) Jesus' prediction is fulfilled at Pentecost when the Spirit descends on the community. The Acts of the Apostles gives wit-ness to the working of the Spirit in the apostolic church. Note the difference in the disciples before and after the coming of the Spirit. Review for Religious Among New Testament writings the epistles of Paul are a most eloquent witness to this power of the Spirit--a power he received only after his conversion to Christ at Damascus. For Paul, belief in Jesus with the subsequent infusion of the life of the Spirit is the source of all power. It is a new principle of life. Paul contrasts it with the flesh and its tendency to sin. But you are not in the flesh; on. the contrary, you are in the spirit, if only the Spirit of God dwells in you. Whoever does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the spirit is alive because of righteousness. If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, through his Spirit that dwells in you. (Rm 8:9-11) This principle of life infuses the Christian community, form-ing one body, the Body of Christ, with every member united and animated by the Spirit. As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons, and we were all given to drink of one Spirit. (1 Co 12:12-13) A note on the activity of the Spirit in the self: The Holy Spirit joins our human spirit; it does not replace it. We humans enjoy three modes of activity flowing from the three dimensions of our being: physical, psychological, and spiritual. It is helpful to imag-ine three concentric circles: the center is the spirit, the middle is the mind, the outer is the body. Every human activity engages all three levels. Our physical and psychological activities are obvious to all. But what are our spiritual activities? The spiritual level is the level of our freedom, our freedom to respond to the Spirit or not to respond. The Holy Spirit joins our human spirit, initiating within us the desire for goodness~without the Spirit's presence we would nbt even have the desire. Responding to the Spirit, then, transforms the other levels of our b.eing, the physical and the psychological. The Spirit is the principle for all Christian life. Traditionally this indwelling of the Spirit has been called sancti-fying grace. Personal prayer--like every spiritual activity--is a response to the Spirit. An important corollary flows from this truth: We can trust our inner selves. At our center we have God's Spirit to guide us. .l~uly-Aug'ust 1997 Hauser * Evoking the Spirit Previous approaches to spirituality did not adequately acknowl-edge that presence. Commonly they taught that the self cannot be trusted because of fallen human nature and inherited original sin. This inherited brokenness so dominated our consciousness that we undervalued the power of redemption from sin. Since we could not trust this inner self, it became necessary to look outside our-selves for external guidelines. Contemporary approaches, too, acknowledge human brokenness--hence the emphasis on dis-cernment of spirits--but they also acknowledge the real effect of Christ's redemption. We have been freed from the slavery of sin; therefore, we can trust our inner selves. Grace in us is stronger than sin in us. Frequently we Christians have substituted fidelity to prescribed formal prayers--morning and night prayers, meal prayers, divine office, prayerbook formularies--for a more inte-rior response to the Spirit. Unfortunately, the Vatican II theological renewal concerning the Holy Spirit has not yet permeated popular consciousness thor-oughly. Many of us live within a different model of the self, which I will call the Western model because I recognize that it dominates the approach to God of many in the Western Hemisphere, In this model God is solely transcendent--in heaven--and so not dwelling within the self through the Spirit. This God in heaven is not readily seen as the initiator of good actions. Though the Western model duly acknowledges that we are made to know, love, and serve God in this life and so be happy in the next, it tends to give God no role in these actions until after they are performed, when rewards of grace are given in this life leading to the reward of heaven in the next. In this model, people tend to see themselvesas the initiators of their own good deeds, including personal prayer. Sanctifying grace is often erroneously under-stood as the treasury in heaven of merit earned by good works on earth. This Western view of self is not taken from the New Testament, but rather absorbed from several aspects of our culture. Our culture is secular. Our .view of the self tends also to be sec-ular; we do not recognize God's presence within us and its influ-ence on our inner motivation. At best we give intellectual assent that through baptism we receive sanctifying grace and so God is with us, but this notion of God's presence does not tend to affect our daily motivation. Our culture is also capitalistic, and financial rewards are conditioned on performance; we presume God gives Review for Religious spiritual rewards the same way, rewarding the just with grace--and perhaps even material prosperity--and withholding these rewards from the unjust. Our culture is individualistic. We prize inde-pendence and eschew any dependence, even finding dependence on God's grace demeaning. Without giving it much thought, we just presume we earn our salvation as we earn everything in life: by our own hard work. This view has disastrous effects on our understanding of how to pray: since the Spirit is not present within us, prayer cannot be a response to the Spirit, Another shift in models concerns spirituality itself. Unfortunately, we Christians have not drawn out implications of the Vatican II-renewed models of the church and the self and applied them to our practice of spirituality or to our personal prayer. Christian spirituality is a response to the Spirit. Today attention has shifted from performing spiritual disciplines (like prayer) externally to responding internally to the Spirit pres-ent in our hearts. Paul teaches his Jewish communities that they have been freed from subservience to the 613 Mosaic laws and are now called to respond to an inner law: "Now we are released from the law, dead to what held us captive, so that we may sePce in the newness of the spirit and not under the obsolete letter" (Rm 7:6). This truth also highlights the inadequacy of the Western-model understanding of good actions as self-initiated and emphasizes the scriptural teaching that~all good deeds are Spirit-initiated. Prayer and service not flowing from the heart do not fulfill Jesus' commandment of love. The Gospels present Jesus as hav-ing the most difficulty with a group of people who perfectly ful-filled all the commandments externally: the Pharisees. Jesus refers to them as whitened sepulchers. Externally they kept the com-mandments, internally they violated their very essence: love. Luke's parable on the Pharisee and the tax collector going to the temple to pray calls attention to the centrality of one's heart in prayer. The Pharisee boasted of his fidelity in keeping all the commandments, emphasizing his superiority to the tax collector. "But the tax collector stood off at a distance and would not even raise his eyes to heaven but beat his breast and prayed, 'O God, be merciful to me.a sinner.' I tell you, the latter went home jus-tified, not the former; for everyone who exalts himself will be Grace in us is stronger than sin in us. Hauser ¯ Evoking the Spirit humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted" (Lk 18:13-14). Previous approaches to spirituality often seemed more con-cerned with the external performance of prayer and service than with the quality of heart underlying them. Indeed, we usually examined our consciences in terms of sinful actions performed or omitted. For instance we focused not on whether we hated our neighbor, but on whether we performed hateful actions. Likewise we focused not on whether we praised God at Sunday Mass, but on whether we fulfilled our obligation by being physically pres-ent- our dispositions were irrelevant. Luke's presentation on the love commandments catches the quality of heart central to spirituality. Recall that the questioner was coming from a mentality that focused on the external obser-vance of many Torah-related precepts as central to observant Jews. Jesus, however, echoes the simpler injunction from the same Scriptures: "Teacher,'what must I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus said to him, "What is written in the law? How do you read it?" He said in reply, "You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." He replied to him, "You have answered correctly; do this and you will live." (Lk 10:25-28) We should recall that love is always a response to the Spirit: love in us originates with God in us: Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love . Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another. No one has ever seen God. Yet, if we love one another, God remains in us, and his love is brought to per-fection in us. (1 Jn 4:7-8, 11-12) The Spirit and Spontaneous Prayer How does the above apply to how we pray? that is, to what we do when' we withdraw individually to be with the Lord? I will begin with our commonest experience of prayer, spontaneous prayer, prayer outside of formal prayer times. Prayer itself I describe simply as "the movement of the heart toward God under the influence of the Holy Spirit": no heart movement, no prayer. Review for Religious (Prayer cannot be identified with either words we say or thoughts we think; indeed, prayer need not be accompanied by either words or thoughts. In Christian tradition the deepest prayer transcends both.) The movement occurs only when we are "under the influ-ence of the Holy Spirit." When we are not in touch with the Spirit, we cannot respond to it. The movement of the heart under the influence of the Spirit is "toward God." The Spirit moves us towards the Father and towards Jesus. As Christian theology sees the Spirit as the bond of union between the Father and the Son in the Trinity, so the Spirit is our bond of union with the Father and Jesus. In the communion of saints, the Spirit unites us also with Mary and the other saints. We on earth are united with them as they now are in heaven, where they continually love and praise the Father and Jesus. There they can be pri;cileged intercessors for us. With them we move toward communion with the Father and Jesus. A note about the purpose of prayer: Often we unreflectively assume that prayer is for the pur-pose of seeking specific favors from God. Deeper reflection, however, reveals that in prayer we are really seeking a confirmation of God's love for us. The purpose behind all our prayer is a deeper communion with the Father and with Jesus. Though we may be led to prayer for many different reasons, as we continue praying we eventually realize that our deepest need is for God's presence and support: the Spirit has transformed our initial desires. The process is not unlike Jesus' transformation in the Garden of Gethsemane. He initially seeks to have the chalice removed, but ends yielding to God's will and presence. I believe we experience over and over again the truth of Augustine's excla-mation "Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee." In prayer there are many levels of .communion, of experienc-ing God's presence. The very desire for God's help is already a rudimentary experience of communion, even though the desire may be interspersed with distractions. The desire is real, but at this level the Spirit has not yet transformed other dimensions of the self. At a deeper level the movement toward God in prayer may be accompanied by tranquillity and peace. The Spirit makes us aware that the world is in God's hands, and we rest in the secu-rity of our relationship with our loving Lord. This is the usual In prayer we are really seeking a confirmation of God's love for us. ~uly-August 1997 Hauser * Evoking the Spirit experience. But, at an even deeper level, the Spirit so unites us to God that we lose conscious awareness of our communion with God. During the momentary experience itself, self-awareness recedes, but we are able to reflect upon the experience afterwards. The experience leaves a residue. The residue is described as wholeness, joy, contentment. Reflection on my own prayer experiences leads .me to a sur-prising conclusion (one I would not have made ten years ago): I find my heart drawn to God as frequently during spontaneous prayer as during the times I set aside for formal prayer. I have noticed that certain conditions foster these experiences--am I describing for myself a method for spontaneous prayer? The times and places are important. On schooldays the expe-riences occur mostly in the evenings after I have completed my day's work. Having put aside preoccupation with projects, I either take a leisurely walk around the campus or sit in one of my favorite places, such as a secluded university garden or the fountain-piazza in front of the church. On weekends the experiences can occur anytime, provided I have put aside preoccupations with work. I must give myself enough time for the experiences to occur--min-imally fifteen minutes, ideally a half hour--and must never be rushed. These experiences of spontaneous prayer, especially as they occur in natural settings, have affected my retreats and vacations. I now choose places for my annual retreats primarily for their setting. I find that my heart moves to God through nature in spontaneous ways that thoroughly refresh me. I consider the for-mal reflections characteristic of retreats as no more important than simply enioying the Lord's presence in nature. In these places God gives me the insights I need for my life. For my annual vaca-tions, too, I choose settings that facilitate spontaneous prayer. I see vacations as similar to retreats, as times for being re-created by God's presence, not simply as times to be distracted from my daily life. I find myself breaking into spontaneous prayer also at other times during the day. Most commonly this occurs after a partic-ularly successful class or during a walk down the campus mall. on an especially beautiful day. And it occurs when I am faithful to times of formal prayer. I believe we sensitize ourselves to the Spirit's presence during formal prayer, making it more likely that prayer will break forth spontaneously during daily activities~ Review for Religious The Spirit and Formal Prayer Only after discussing spontaneous prayer do I feel comfortable discussing formal prayer. Recall that formal prayer refers to time specifically.set aside for personal prayer. The question about the merits of centering prayer and lectio prayer makes sense only in the context of formal prayer. What method of prayer should we use to facilitate responding to the Spirit and reaching commu-nion with God? Remember that our role is to provide the condi-tions for responding to the Spirit. We all have our own rhythms for maintaining union with God. The observations I make here are attempts to share what has been working for myself. They do not imply that this is the way it should be done. Since we humans are complex beings of body, mind, and spirit, it is important for us to 0 find our own personal ways of getting our bod-ies and our minds ready to respond to the Spirit. The following patterns work for me. Time, place, and setting are important. First, the time. After rising, showering, shaving, and getting a cup of coffee, I light a candle and begin a period of sixty to ninety minutes. I sip the coffee and do some journaling; then, putting the coffee aside, I pray the morning office; finally, I move to personal prayer for the last twenty to thirty minutes. I never rush, spending as much time journaling as needed. It.clears my head and allows me to process what has built up in my psyche, matter which could emerge as distractions in my prayer. Often journaling provides the topic for the subsequent prayer. Next, the place. I pray in my own room, in a chair next to a large window that looks eastward over the secluded garden I men-tioned above; the chair, facing my prayer wall, is upholstered and comfortable, but supports me firmly in an upright position. On a side table are all the things I need: my journal, a Bible, the daily office, a lectionary, meditation books related to the liturgical season. I love this room, away from my offices. The window, open in warm weather, gives direct access to the sights and sounds of the garden and to the warmth and light of the rising sun. My prayer wall is hung with favorite icons, prints, and crucifixes gathered over the years; I rearrange it for the various liturgical seasons and feasts. Physical details are key: the time, the place, the furniture and furnishings. The regular rhythm of entering this environment at I believe we sensitize ourselves to the Spirit's presence during formal prayer. July-August 1997 Hauser ¯ Evoking the Spirit this time each day not only helps one to be receptive to the Spirit, but often occasions immediate communion with the Lord. Given the desire for communion with God, praying can be simple: just find the right time and place and go there regularly! Prayer methods, too, can dispose one to receive the Spirit. The methods of lectio prayer and centering prayer differ. Lectio prayer is a response to God's presence in the word. The word of God has many meanings. God is present in the scriptural word; traditionally most have found this to be the most helpful starting point for prayer. God is also present in the word of creation; some find focusing on God's presence in the beauty of nature a more effective beginning. God is present in the existential word as well; many find focusing on God's presence in the events and people of their lives the most effective beginning. But all aspects of cre-ation- images, poetry, music--are words of God and possible starting points for prayer. God is present in all of reality, sus-taining it in existence and using it to bring us into communion: "Creation proclaims the glory of God." In lectio prayer we choose an aspect of God's word to focus our attention; and then .we wait, listen, and respond to that word--under the influence of the Spirit. Our effort is to attend to God's word and, as much as pos-sible, avoid letting our attention be drawn toward distractions. In lectio prayer we are led by the Spirit toward a progres-sively deeper response to God's presence in the word. Frequently the dynamic is from thinking (meditatio) about God's presence~in the word, to praying (oratio) to God in response, to simply rest-ing (contemplatio) in God's presence without either thinking about God or even consciously praying to God. Guido II, a 12th-cen-tury Carthusian abbot, gives the classic expression of the internal dynamic of this prayer: You can see., how these degrees are joined to each other. One precedes the other, not only in the order of time but of causality. Reading (lectio) comes first and is, as it were, the foundation; it provides the subject matter we must use for meditation. Meditation (meditatio) considers more carefully what is to be sought after; it digs, as it were, for treasure which it finds and reveals; but, since it is not in medita-tion's power to seize upon the treasure, it directs us to prayer. Prayer (oratio) lifts itself up to God with all its strength and begs for the treasure it longs for, which is the sweemess of contemplation. Contemplation (contemplatio) when it comes rewards the labors of the other three; it ine-briates the thirsting soul with the dew of h~avenly sweemess. Review for Religlous Reading is an exercise of the outward senses; meditation is concerned with the inward understanding; prayer is con-cerned with desire; contemplation outstrips every faculty. (Guido II, Ladder of Monks, Cistercian Publications, 1978) The goal of the process is contemplation which "outstrips every faculty" and rests in communion with God unmediatated by our own activity. Our activity recedes; God's increases. God holds us close with little or no effort on our part. An image, adapted from Abbot Thomas Keating, helps us understand the process. The Spirit is the river; the word of God the boat; God the ocean. We live in the river (the Spirit). In prayer we allow the Spirit to direct our attention to the boat (the word of God). Focusing on the boat, we move with the boat into the ocean (God). Quite similar to this is the dynamic of spbntaneous prayer. Some aspect of God's word catches our attention. Through the Spirit we respond and are brought into divine communion. Centering prayer is quite different from lec-rio pra~er. It is based bn the truth of God's pres-ence in the center of our being, beyond the level of thoughts and desires. It presumes the scrip-rural model of the self. In centering prayer we respond to God directly, unmediated by reflections on God's word. The method, taken from the 14th-century English classic The Cloud of Unknowing and popularized by Trappist Fathers Keating, Pennington, and Menninger, is simple. We choose a favorite appellation for God, such as, "Father," "Abba, Father," "Jesus," "Lord," "Rabboni." We begin prayer with this "prayer word" and simply sit in faith and love before God. We do not begin With any reflections about God flowing from the word of God; we simply are in faith before God. Our goal is to be totally receptive to the Spirit so that it can hold us in communion. Interior silence, is the matrix for our receptivity. Keating's advice for handling thoughts is simple: Resist no thought, react to no thought, retain no thought; simply return to the. prayer Word. Note that we do not return to this word unless a thought arises. Thoughts inevitably arise and we let them pass, returning to the prayer word. Thoughts even have a positive qual-ity to them because, as we let them pass, ,;re are removing from In centering prayer we respond to God directly, unmediated by reflections on God's word. ff~uly-Auffust 1997 Hauser ¯ Evoking tbe Spirit our psyches obstacles to the contemplative communion with God; they are actually part of the purification process. Handled well, they move us toward interior silence, that is, nonattachment to thoughts. Eventually thoughts may recede and we can be before God in faith with little use of the prayer word. Once you grasp the fact that thoughts are not only inevitable, but an integral part of the healing and growth initiated by God, you are able to take a positive View of them. Instead of looking upon them as painful distractions, you see them in a broader perspective that includes both interior silence and thoughts--thoughts that you do not want but which are just as valuable for the purpose of purifi-cation as moments of profound tranquillity. Vghen everything in the unconscious is emptied out, the kinds of thoughts that were~passing by in the beginning will no longer exist. There is an end to the process of purifi-cation. Then the awareness of union with God will be con-tinuous because there will be no obstacle in our conscious or unconscious life to ~interfere with it. (Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Open Heart, Amity House, pp. 112 and 102) The goal of the process is contemplation which outstrips every faculty and rests in a communion with God unmediated by our own activity--the same goal as that of lectio prayer. The image of the river (the Spirit), boat (the word of God), and ocean (God) is helpful. Remember that we live in the river (the Spirit); in centering prayer we simply move in the river directly into the ocean (God).The prayer word is not a boat; we do not use it to support thinking (meditatio) and loving (oratio) as in lec-tio prayer. The prayer word serves only to symbolize our inten-tion. The Spirit brings us directly into communion without reflection on the word of God. ~ A third method should be discussed, mantra prayer. Its assumptions and dynamics are similar to those of centering prayer. It enters the Christian tradition formally in the 5th century in the Conferences of John Cassian. In mantra prayer, too, we respond to God directly, unmediated by reflections on God's word. But we come to prayer with a previously chosen mantra, not merely with a prayer word. We begin prayer slowly repeating dae mantra, coordinating its four phrases (separated by asterisks) with our inhaling and exhaling. (Most authors, but not all, suggest coor-dination with breathing). Cassian notes that the desert fathers preferred: "O God * come to my assistance * O Lord * make haste Review for Religious to help me." The most famous.mantra in the Christian tradition, however, is the Jesus Prayer that arose among the Greek fathers in the 5th century: "Lord Jesus Christ * Son of God * have mercy on me * a sinner." Any phrase can serve as a mantra. I frequently recast scriptural passages into mantra form. Among my favorites: "The Lord * is my shepherd * there is nothing * I shall want"; "You are my servant * whom I have chosen * my beloved * with whom I am pleased"; "I am the vine * you are the branches * with-out me * you can do nothing." The method for handling thoughts is similar to that of cen-tering prayer. When thoughts occur, we simply let them pass and return to the rhythmic repetition of the mantra. This repetition is the matrix for our receptivity to the Spirit. Our effort in this method is to let pass all thoughts that occur and to return to the repetition of the mantra. We do not reflect upon the mantra, but simply use it as a way to focus our minds and symbolize our inten-tion to pray. (If we begin reflecting upon the. mantra itself, we have switched from mantra prayer to lectio prayer.) As we become still, we may want to drop parts of the mantra or even the entire mantra. We may use only the appellation "Lord" to symbolize our intention. If this occurs, we have moved from mantra prayer to centering prayer. But, in any case, the goal of all these methods is contemplative union with God which "outstrips every faculty." The holy men of the Orthodox Church see the essential task of the Christian life as being to restore this unity to man with a mind and heart integrated through prayer. The mantra provides the integrating power. It is like a harmonic that we sound in the depths of our spirit, bringing us to an' ever-deepening sense of our own wholeness and central har-mony. It leads us to the source of this harmony, to our cen-ter, rather as a radar bleep leads an aircraft home through thick fog. (John Main, Word into Silence, Paulisy Press, p. 15) The Best Method of Prayer? Praying is an art, not a science. The goal of all prayer meth-ods is communion with God. Since only the Spirit can bring about this communion, our role ,is providing conditions conducive to our receiving the Spirit. Communion remains a gift. I once believed--erroneously--that my conscientious use of a particular method guaranteed good results in prayer. There is no best way to pray. Through trial and error we individually discover what works best for ourselves. The following reflections about formal prayer July-~lug~tst 1997 Hauser * Evoking the Spirit present what has been working for me, but may not be helpful for everyone. Sometimes no method is needed. Frequently, after lighting my candle, settling into my prayer chair, sipping my coffee, and doing some journaling, I find myself already close to God with no further effort needed on my part, so I stop journaling. I am already centered; no method is needed. Perhaps my journal writings have brought to mind some blessing, some word of God, from the pre-vious day. The blessing becomes the occasion, the sacrament, for awakening consciousness of God and for resting gratefully in God's presence. The Spirit moves me from gratitude to commu-nion and contemplation. All I know is that I have no desire either to reflect upon or pray over the blessing. Or perhaps the jour-nalings have recalled a need which then becomes the occasion, the sacrament, for awakening consciousness of dependence on God and resting in silent acknowledgment of my helplessness without God: "Be still and know that I am God." Occasionally while I am journaling, saying the office, or doing my personal praying, my attention is caught unexpectedly by something in the garden outside my window: the sun rising through the trees, the song of a bird or the rusde of leaves, the fra-grance of blossoms, the wind blowing. Then I have no desire to continue reflecting Or praying: I find myself held close by God-- I am centered. Nature has become the sacrament occasioning communion with God and contemplation. Frequently my attention is caught by an icon or print on my prayer wall, the Vladimir Madonna, perhaps, or Fra Angelico's Annunciation, or a photograph of the Vatican Museum's 4th-cen-tury sculpture of the Good Shepherd. In the various liturgical seasons I may be especially caught by Hicks's Peaceable Kingdom, Gorgione's Adoration of the Shepherds, Perugino's Crucifixion, Fra Angelico's Noli Me Tangere. I believe the Spirit offers seasonal graces. Sometimes a combination of prayer methods is helpful. If I have not experienced the drawing of the Spirit toward communion and contemplation during journaling and the morning office, I readily choose lectio prayer. Usually something from the previous day or one of the readings from the office presents itself. Sometimes I look over a seasonal meditation book, reading alit-tle and then putting the book aside to see how the Spirit will move in me. Meditation books are helpful as starting points, but Review for Religious then we need to be sensitive to our own inspirations, to the exis-tential word of God as we ourselves experience it in our own lives. We need to wait in God's presence, listen to God's speaking through the word in my heart, and respond in the way the Spirit moves us. We speak only in response to the Spirit and only after we ha~;e listened. The goal of prayer is resting in a communion with God that is beyond thoughts and desires. When I reach this peaceful state, I find it helpful to switch from lectio prayer to mantra prayer. I use the mantra to keep my mind occupied and prevent distractions from arising. The gentle repetition of the mantra sustains my intention. At this point I am held to God by God with virtually no effort on my part. This restful state is often referred to as the prayer of quiet. This beginning contemplation is marked by con-scious awareness and enjoyment of God's presence. But sometimes this reflective consciousness recedes and we enter momentarily an even deeper state of contemplation. We become aware of this special grace only when we return to reflective awareness. I often move from mantra prayer to centering prayer. After a period of mantra prayer, I may find the mantra unnecessary and even bothersome. My faculties are quiet; I am centered. Using a simple prayer word, I move in faith and love toward God. When distractions arise I let them pass, renewing my intention by my prayer word, all in response to the Spirit. We speak only in response to the Spirit and only after we have listened. Evoking the Spirit God made us to be fulfilled in communion with the Father and Jesus through the Holy.Spirit--a fulfillment expressed both in prayer and in service to our neighbor. The Spirit in us yearns always for this fulfillment. In formal prayer we consciously attend to our relationship with God; ~n Sl~Ontan60us prayer it just hap-pens. Both are identity experiences, both are "movements of our hearts to God under the influence of the Spirit." The prayer expe-rience is the experience of our deepest identity; complex methods ought not get in the way of this basic yearning, of our being. I believe that all methods of Christian prayer are somehow related to one another. .~dy-,qug~st 1997 L3-S-7- Hauser ¯ Evoking the Spirit Each of us has the challenge of discovering how the Spirit is moving within us to help us experience our deepest identity. We ought never be discouraged. No matter how disturbing and pre-occupying the external events of our lives may be, we can always pray because we have been given the Spirit to help us in our weak-ness. I think Paul had his own tumultuous life in mind--and per-haps also Jesus' experience in Gethsemane--when he wrote the following words to the community in Rome, a comraunity expe-riencing persecution and even death for their faith in Christ: The Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.~And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God's will. (Rm 8:26-27) AMORALTHEOLOGIAN'S REQUEST¯ Professor Germaln Gnsezas beg~nmng to work on the fourt~i volume of his systemau9 treatment.of moral theolo, gy ennded The Way of the Lord Jesus. ThiS,final volun~e will troat~thE i'esp0hsibilities proper to women and men lbiing the coiasecrated life and to men who have been ordained as deacons, priests, or bishops. He seeks a~dv~lce from those whose responslbdmes he will be ~eating. To stimulate reflection tfe proposes'some questions: - What Would you expecl~ of the book ] am undertaking? What is a ~bmpa~:able resource yod Can~ think of and Would recommdnd,to a no,ice or a seminarian? ¯ What moral problems'do religious or clerics sometimes experience that are never touched on by magisterial documents and~ perhaps, seldom or never discussed in., books and journals? ~ . ¯ What rec~nt books and/or ~a_rticles have y9ufound "" ¯ especially helpful?~, ~ ¯ ,~,~,* Besides obvious ~6pics such as obedience and virginity or, celibacy for the kingdom's sake, what Other matters sh6uld I~onsider? : - ¯ ~3esid~s stu~13?ing~relevant paSs~ag~ in Scripture and. - " rele~cant magisterial docunient~,of the.tweritieth century, o whatother sources should I use?~ " Any communication he reEeives will be kept in .~tfictest confidence. All real cases used as examples in the book will be fictionalized to safeguard.~ privacy Please contact: Germain Gi'isez; Mount Saint Mary's College; En~mitsburg, Ma~land 21727, USA. Review for Religious JUDY ROXBOROUGH Liturgy of the Hours: Path to Integration Rilar Feliu STJ, former superior general of the Teresian sters, once described the Liturgy of the Hours as the frame that encloSes our day. Like the frame of a painting, our common prayer time can radically change the way we perceive the day as we look forward to it at Lauds, and back on it at Vespers. Bringing our lives to prayer through the Hours can effect far more than bringing a new perspective or adding a rosy tone' to our view. It can also be the channel for the powerful working of the word of God, which is "living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword" (Hb 4:12). Encountering in a prayerful setting the psalms and other scripture texts again and again through the cycle of the seasons, allows them to work on us, "penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow,., to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart." Perhaps the image of a loom is more appropriate than a simple frame, for through the Hours run the threads of the word, and the threads of our lives, which can be woven together into a fabric both beautiful and whole. The Liturgy of the Hours is the frame on which we can discover unity and wholeness, helping us to integrate our lives. The first task at Lauds is to become engaged in the act of prayer. For some of us this may not be .an automatic event. At times I have found myself physically present at Lauds, perhaps Judy Roxborough STJ, a sister of the Society of St. Teresa of Jesus, has been a computer programmer in rocket-data analysis, meteorology, and telephone-circuit simulation and also an editor. She is currently involved in her first love, teaching, at Sacred Heart School in Uvalde, Texas. Her address is 343 North Crisp Street; Uvalde, Texas 78801. t-3- 9 July-August 1997 Roxborougb ¯ Liturgy of the Hours even mentally present, but somehow not engaged. I haste not tuned in to the act of prayer, the fundamental attitude of wor-ship. It is as if I were racing the engine, but in neutral. With the clutch disengaged, the highest octane gas is not going to produce one foot of forward motion. And so it seems with prayer when we are not engaged--nothing happens, in spite of all the proper rituals and words. For me it is often something from .without that calls me into prayer--a word of introduction, a song, or perhaps a line from a psalm engages me and leads me into prayer. When this happens, I am integrated into prayer, into the moment, and into relationship with my Creator. My focus changes as once again I realize the simple truth that I am creature entering into praise of my Creator. This shift in focus is the narrow doorway through which I can encounter the divine. The Liturgy of the Hours also provides a way of bringing.us a deeper .awareness of the passage of time, not just in a chrono-logical sense, but as sacred time: time as participation, together with the universe, in God's plan of salvation. The cycle of the Hours, praying Lauds at sunrise, Vespers at sunset, helps to inte-grate us with the rhythm of the day. We find our place in the diur-nal cycle. The day begins at Lauds, and in a sense the whole day becomes present as we look towards it. This is the proper moment to consecrate the day to God, to invoke the Spirit, to ask for a blessing on all that we will do, to form within our hearts the inten-tion to serve God well this day. At Vespers the day is again pres, ent--in memory--and is gathered together in thanksgiving. Whether we have succeeded or failed, found joy or sorrow, there is thankfulness that God has brought us through the day, never abandoning us. Vespers joyfully remembers, gives thanks, cele-brates, and offers the day back to God, with a sense of completion. Through the celebration of the seasons, we also find our place in the liturgical year. Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, ordinary time, and special community feasts all give us reference points within the flow of time. The simple act of becoming aware of the season in a prayerful setting helps us to become more inte-grated in time. Just as the priest puts on vestments to celebrate the Eucharist, so do we put on the season thr.ough the Hours. The mood and nuances of the season become our own. P~rticipafing in the season in this wa.y heightens our own sense of wholeness and of being at one with the world we' dwell in. This is especially meaningful in a society which anticipates seasons for commercial Review for Religious purposes, discarding them as soon as their monetary potential has expired. In many ways, as we have become insulated from natural surroundings, we have lost much of our connection with seasons, and the Liturgy of the Hours helps to mend this separation. At times we commemorate special moments of our lives in the Liturgy of the Hours: personal milestones, community feasts, civil occasions. This too helps bring unity to our lives, putting the milestones in Christian perspec-tive, forging new bonds as we each cel-ebrate our unique heritage, and making connections with the stream of civilian life. In a different sense we may find a new integration in time through the repetition of the psalms themselves. I may be struck for the first time with an application of a psalm to some event of the past. Suddenly both the psalm and the event become fresh for me and acquire new meaning. The psalm becomes my own (integrating my life with Scripture), and the past is inte-grated with the present.as it is reinterpreted in the context of the whole. This process is like weaving, going back to pick up the old threads of our lives and weaving them together with the new. The fabric of my life becomes a little more whole; time itself is being redeemed. The past is not lost forever, but brought back, cleansed a little, purified a little, healed a little, as it is brought to prayer and we discover God moving within those bygone events. The very act of praying together with the community has aspects of integration. The community chooses an hour for prayer, often one that few actually find optimal. Nevertheless, we com-mit ourselves to this time, integrating our desires and needs as community. Our physical presence at community prayer enfleshes and symbolizes our commitment to be one, a commitment that will demand a little dying from us each day. The intercessions that we offer also provide an opportunity for further integration within the community. To the extent that we are willing to bring our petitions to God beftre our brothers and sisters, to the extent that we are willing to hear their interces-sions and hold them in our hearts, to the extent that we are will- Our physical presence at community prayer enfleshes and symbolizes our commitment to be one, a bommitment that will demand a little dying from us each day. ~7~tly-Augttst 1997 Roxborou~b ¯ Liturgy of the Hours ing to pray earnestly for one another, making one another's bur-dens our own, we deepen our community life. Here is a wonder-ful opportunity to risk loving one another in community by sharing our concerns, our needs, our failures; by accepting the concerns, needs, and failures of others. Our union with the entire Body of Christ is also strength-ened as we pray the church's own prayer. We join with all the church in praying the psalms, in celebrating feasts and seasons, in lifting up our hearts to praise God for the resurrection, in thank-ing God for the day. In daily intercession we pray with and for the church, just as we do for our own needs~and for those of the com-munity. We expa~nd our horizons to the whole church, indeed, to all of humanity, through prayer. We can give a voice to the voice-less as we offer prayers of praise and petition on behalf of all those who cannot pray, those who do not know how to pray, those whose hearts are hardened against prayer. When we speak to the Lord on behalf of others, we share their burden~ and find com-munion with them. This communion, the fruit of prayer, is a grace for us, a gift that brings us to our rightful relationship.with our brothers and sisters, a relationship that allows us to become more whole, more human. Our prayer with and on behalf of others is not limited to our fellow Christians, nor even to all humanity, but includes all of God's creation. We are voice for the whole universe, awaiting redemption: "Creation awaits with .eager expectation the revela-tion of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who sub-jected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slav-ery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now" (Rm 8:19-22). All creation is groaning, crying out for redemption. The universe itself suffers the wounds of sin and alienation and yearns for healing. We can become voice for all creatures, for all creation, in our prayer. When we lift our voices in praise or petition to the Creator, we offer praise and petition on behalf of all creatures, all creation: .birds and fish, trees and rocks. The same psalms that we recite proclaim the praise of God's silent ones: . Let the rivers clap their hands, the mountains shout with them for joy. (Ps 98:8) Let the plains be joyful and all that is in them. Review for Religious Then let ~ill the trees Of the forest rejoice. (Ps 96:12) You mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars; You animals wild and tame, you creatures that crawl and fly; You kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all who govern on earth; young men and women too, old and young alike. Let them all praise the LORD's name, for his name alone is exalted, majestic above earth and heaven. (Ps 148:9-13) The untilled meadows also drip; the hills are robed with joy. The pastures are clothed with flocks, the valleys blanketed with grain; they cheer and sing.for joy. (Ps 65:13) In becoming voice for the speechless, we find union with cre-ation, and in that union we also find our creaturehood, so that we can become more the persons we are called to be: creatures, redeemed, proclaiming God's goodness, There is a wholeness and unity suggested here, a sense of peace deriving from this kind of connectedness to the whole of God's world. To make that con-nection, even for a few moments of prayer, spins another thread that can help bind the wounds of separation for ourselves, for our communities, for "our world. Indeed, the hour we spend praying the Liturgy of the Hours offers us a path toward wholeness. Speechless In wordless psalmody I watch the sun strike golden fire atop the trees. A finite moment stills Infinity, emboldens a dare to spell a sunrise ignited by Divinity. Anna Marie Mack SSJ 3~dy-Aug~lst 1997 spiritua direction STEVE R. WIGALL What Is a Spiritual Director's Authority? One of the most debated issues in the literature of spiri-tual direction is that of the spiritual director's authority. Some argue that it is improper for spiritual directors to wield authority over their directees. They see the author-ity that has been traditionally and historically invested in the role of the director as a problem to be apologized for and avoided. Others view spiritual directors as people who properly carry a divine authority by reason of their being gifted by God to be divine instruments in directees' lives. This article surveys thes~ arguments and suggests an alter-native way of understanding the issue. Authority Is Negative Numerous articles and books begin their discussion of spiritual direction with an almost embarrassed effort to avoid, or at least redefine, the classic terms spiritual guidance or spiriiual direction. The Reverend Peter Ball, canon of S~. Paul's Cathedral in England, writes about his discomfort with both words, spiritual and direction. He considers them ambiguous and liable to be misunderstood. He expresses particular concern that the word direction implies "a sense of authority, even authoritarianism." After Steve R. Wigall is a Presbyterian clergyman and a candidate for the Th.D. degree at Boston University School of Theology. His address is 296 Lowell Street; Lawrence, Massachusetts 01841. Review for ReIigious all, he says, "a director directs, steers, is in charge. Directions are orders. You are supposed to comply with them, to obey." l William Barry and William Connolly, too, find spiritual direc-tion an awkward term: "The term spiritual direction unavoidably suggests to people of our contemporary Western culture a spiri-tualism and an authoritarianism that sound theology and psy-chology must repudiate." The fear they express is that the classic terms guidance and direction describe a practice that places exces-sive authority in the hands of the director) Green agrees that a director should not be given too much authority. He insists that the director's role with the directee must be only that of a "co-discerner" of God's voice? Doherty addresses the same concern by insisting the director should be merely the directee's friend.4 Schneiders insists that the spiritual director must exercise no authority at all over the directee. She writes that the director is just a companion whose role is to point the directee to God, but who in no way speaks, to the directee in God's name. The director-directee relationship, she writes, is fraternal or sis-terly, rather than parental,s She goes on to argue that it is invalid for the director to take an authoritarian role or to set the direc-tion of another's life, since people must exercise that responsibil-ity themselves. The director, she states, does not and cannot give direction, but merely helps directees find or discern God's direc-tion for themselves.6 Authority is Positive Other writers are less hesitant to describe the role of the director as one of authority. Guenther, for example, argues that the role of the spiritual director cannot possibly be one of mutuality and friendship. She writes that spiritual direction is essentially a hierarchical relationship in which the focus is not meant to be shared, but is to be on the directee.7 Bots and de Vries agree'that a spiritual director is not a spiritual friend. The image of friend-ship, they contend, places too much emphasis on the human aspect of the relationship and not enough on the role of the Holy Spirit.s William McNamara, who runs a spiritual retreat center in Sedona, Arizona, attributes to the spiritual director the high authority of a spiritual teacher, much like that of a guru in the Hindu tradition.9 Kallistos .Ware, like many writers who speak from the Orthodox tradition, describes the spiritual director as .y~dy-August 1997 Wigall * Wbat ls a Spiritual Director's Authority one to whom a directee gives trust and obedience, In Ware's view, the directee submits to the director's authority in order to avoid the ego trap of trying to make spiritual progress by self-will and personal effort.1° Those who invest the spiritual director with significant authority do so because they believe that God gifts and uses the director. Andrd Louf, for example, argues that a director is accorded authority as a spiritual elder because he or she is given a spiritual gift or charism by God, and that the charism enables the director to receive and impart God's authoritative word of guid-ance.~ 1 Sister Donald Corcoran explains that, in the Orthodox tradition, the authority of the spiritual director is based on the recognition that the spiritual director is a person in and through whom God works. Directors, she states, are called spiritual father or mother because they are used by God, in parentlike manner, to engender, convey, and nurture spiritual life in their directees.~2 Looking back in history, we find many authors expressing this same confidence in the spiritual director's authority. St. Symeon the New Theologian, for example, taught that the directee should understand that, because of the director's God-given gift, "fol-lowing [the director] . . . is following Christ." This is not, as Blessed John of Avila says, that directees should "subject [them-selves] to another person. [or] confide in. a person alone." The directee's confidence in the director's authority is based on his or her faith "in God, who will speak to you and strengthen you through another person."~3 Merton explains the original histor-ical reason for the authority that was accorded to spiritual direc-tors: He writes that historically the authority of spiritual directors was based on a recognition of their charism and that--when the first hermits went out into the desert, leaving behind established Christian communities--they exchanged the hierarchical guid-ance of their bishops for the guidance of the spiritually gifted.~4 An Alternative Perspective Obviously, some are comfortable investing the spiritual direc-tor with divine authority, while others are not. The question of authority is approached from different perspectives. Authority is seen as something negative by those who believe in egalitarian relationships and by those who are concerned about avoiding its abuse. Authority is seen as positive by those whose worldview is Review for Religious hierarchical and by those who are concerned about avoiding chaos and disorder. There are legitimate concerns on both sides ofithe authority question. I suggest that, when we look at the concerns that are dis-cussed under the ~bric of the spiritual director's authority, two fundamental questions can be found at the heart of this debate: (1) Does the director see and acknowledge the Holy Spirit as the authority for and source of his or her ministry? and (2) Does the director's ministry set the directee free to follow where God is truly leading? Ouestion One: Corcoran is a good example of an author who argues that Christ's Spirit is the Christian's one and only spiritual director. She points out that, while othe~ religious traditions have master-disciple relationships in which the disciple obeys the authority of an earthly master, Christianity does not have an equivalent relationship. Christ still lives. His Spirit is still pre sent with and within each of his followers and is still the one master of every Christian disciple. Christ's Spirit, says Corcoran, is still the Christian's only authority.Is Because Christ is the Christian's one true spiritual director, the only authority a human spiritual director can have is derivative. This insight is cru-cial to the debate over the spiritual director's authority. Whether spiritual directors claim to speak with God!s authority or claim to .be merely spiritual friends who point their directees toward God, it is crucial that directors acknowledge to themselves and to their directees as well that God and God alone is the central authority in their life and ministry. Question Two: St. John of the Cross, along with St. Teresa of Avila, stands at the head of the great Carmelite tradition of spir-itual direction, one which is not the most laissez-faire of traditions. Yet St. John is an outstanding example of those who champion the freedom of the individual directee. In The Living Flame of Love, John strongly advocates that each directee needs to be granted the freedom to follow God's Will. Those who are born of the Spirit, he says, are wildly free and need to know that God alone is their Lord and guide.~6 This second insight is crucial t6 Those who invest the spiritual .director with significant authority do so because they believe t hat God gifts and uses the director. ~dy-August 1997 Wigall * What Is a Spiritual Director's Authority the debate over the spiritual director's authority. No matter how spiritual directors understand or carry their authority, a more important question by far is whether and to what degree spiri-tual directors are able to set the individual directees free to follow the unique path along which God is leading each one. How spiritual directors envision their own authority is deter-mined to a large extent by the theological tradition and the cul-tural context within which they operate. One director may be comfortable claiming to be a spiritual abba or aroma or a spiri-tual elder; another may be more comfortable claiming to be a spiritual friend. Both sides of the authority question can benefit from realizing that the important issue at stake in this matter is not so much how spiritual directors conceptualize their authority; rather, it is how they answer the two questions raised in this arti-cle, both of which refer to the crucial underlying matter of the quality of the director-directee relationship. These two questions also directly relate to the issue of authority. However, they shed light on the practice of spiritual direction in a way that the'debate over the authority of spiritual directors has failed to do. I suggest that what underlies the concern for affirming the director's authority as God-given is the question of whether direc-tors acknowledge their dependence on God's Spirit. I suggest that the question of whether they protect and assure their directees' freedom is what underlies the concern for limiting the director's authority. Both of these questions represent concerns that relate to the director-directee relationship, and both are essential for spiritual directors to address. No matter how spiritual directors understand their authority, they need to deal with these two issues, They need to acknowledge openly their submission to God's authority. And they need to set their directees free to seek and follow Gdd. Notes 1 Peter Ball, Journey into Truth: Spiritual Direction in the Anglican Tradition (London: Mowbray, 1996), pp. 4-5. 2 William A. Barry and William J. Connolly, The Practice of Spiritual Direction (Minneapolis: Seabury Press, 1982), pp. 9-11. 3 Thomas H. Green, Opening to God (Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 1977), p. 49. 4 Rose Marie Dbherty, "Doing Spiritual Direction in a Group," Praying 29 (March-April 1989): 6-7. Review for Religious s Sandra Marie Schneiders, Spiritual Direction (Chicago: National Sisters Vocation Conference, 1977): 19-20, 47-48. 6 Schneiders, "The Return to Spiritual Direction," Spiritual Life 18, no. 4 (Winter 1972): 275, and "The Contemporary Ministry of Spiritual Direction," Chicago Studies 15 (Spring 1976): 123. 7 Margaret Guenther, Holy Listening: The Art of Spiritual Direction (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Cowley Publications, 1992), p. 3. 8 Jan Bots and Piet Penning de Vries, "On Spiritual Direction," Review for Religious 40, no. 4 (July-August 1981): 496. 9 William McNarn~ara, "Psychology and the Christian Mystical Tradition," in Transpersonal. Psychologies, ed. Charles Tart (New York: Harper and Row, 1975), pp. 408, 425. ,0 Kallistos Ware, "The Spiritual Father in Orthodox Christianity," Cross Currents 24 (Summer-Fall 1974): 296. 11 Andr~ Louf, "Spiritual Fatherhood in the Literature of the Desert," in Abba: Guides to Wholeness and Holiness, East and West, ed. J. Sommerfeldt (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1982), pp. 38-40. lz Donald Corcoran, "Spiritual Guide: Midwife of the Hig,her Spiritual Self," in Abba, ed.J. Sommerfeldt, 356-357. 13Jerome M. Neufelder and Mary C. Coelho, eds., Writings on Spiritual Direction (Minneapolis: Seabury Press, 1982), pp. 18-19. 14 Thomas Merton, Spiritual Direction and Meditation (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1960), pp. 3-4: is Donald Corcoran, "Spiritual Guidance: The Role of Spiritual Directors in Christian Spirituality," in Christian Spirituality, ed~ B. McGinn and J. Meyendorf (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1995), pp. 444, 448-451. 16 Joel Giallanza, "Spiritual Direction according to St. John of the Cross," in Spiritual Direction: Contemporary Readings, ed. Kevin G. Culligan (Locust Valley, New York: Living Flame Publishers, 1983), p. 202. July-Aug~tst 1997 SHAUN McCARTY Confidentiality Issues in Spiritual Direction Cdonfidentiality is a critical consideration in a spiritual-irection relationship as well as a serious ethical impera-tive for the director.-This derives from the nature and history of spiritual direction, which deals with the most intimate levels of a person's life. The topic, theh, merits careful cqnsideration. I intend to e~xpl0re: (1) the nature of confidentiality; (2) why it is critical for the spiritual-direction relationship; (3) some legal considera-tions concerning its observance; (4) the relative merits of church regulation of this ministry to protect the confidentiality rights of the one :guiding and the one guided; and (5) an alternative to out-side regulation in dealing with the need for the exercise of a' responsible ministry of spiritual direction. Nature of Confidentiality "Confidentiality" has to do with keeping secrets. Something is "confidential" when a private matter is imparted in secret. "Confidence" carries the sense of firm belief in, reliance on, and assurance of another keeping trust. "Confiding," then, assumes a trusted "confidant." A "secret" is a hidden fact which may not be divulged, whether it be a fault or even something good that needs protection, for example, inventions or special recipes. There are three kinds of Shaun McCarty ST, currendy on a sabbatical, l~as been director of Trinity Ministries Center for several years. He writes from 1733 Metzerott Road; Adelphi, Maryland 20783. Review for Religious secrets: (1) A "natural" secret, in which the obligation to secrecy arises from the nature of the case, for example, deeply personal matters spoken of within close human fellowship or matters whose revelation would in some way injure or displease another (such as defamatory gossip). (2) A "promised" secret, which is to be kept, not by the nature of the case, but because of one's subsequent promise not to reveal the matter; the obligation arises from fidelity to one's declared word, but does not apply to useless or inane matters. (3) An "entrusted" secret, wherein the matter is revealed on the condition (whether explicit or implicit) that it will be kept secret. A special kind of entrusted secret is referred to as a "pro-fessional" secret; it obliges doctors, lawyers, the clergy, and some others by reason of their professions. This is the most binding secret of all. It is with this privileged category of professional secret that spiritual direction is concerned. Those bound to secrecy include not only the director, but all those'who may become privy to it, such as supervisors, consultants, and supervi-sory and peer-supervisory groups. The Necessity of Confidentiality Confidentiality is an imperative that arises from the need for discretion in matters where serious harm may come to self, oth-ers, or communities. People have a right to privacy. Confidentiality is a practical demonstration of reverence for the personal, inti-mate, and sacred values of another person. There is also a need on the part of both individuals and the public at large for a climate of freedom and trust wheri it comes tb seeking help that involves the revelation of confidential material. Vital to the effectiveness of guiding, helping, . and healing professions.are these elements of freedom and trust. Few events can be more destructive or preclusive of contin-ued help than the violation of trust and loss of such freedom of exchange. Not only is a violation of confidentiality destructive of the relationship with the person who divulges personal informa-tion, but it often can make the person betrayed wary of ever entrusting anyone else with similar confidences. It leaves deep wounds that are a long time healing. Some mention should also be made concerning the damage done to the integrity, reputa-tion, and future effectiveness of the one revealing the confidence. It can compromise that person's integrity and credibility for the ~dy-Aug~st 1997 McCart~ ¯ Con~dentiali~ Issues in S~iritual Direction future. The matter of confidentiality is of special concern in a ministry as sensitive as spiritual direction, for it is especially dependent upon the establishment and maintenance of that trust-ful silence so vital to open dialogue. In Catholic circles especially, spiritual direction has tradi-tionally been distinct from, yet closely akin to, sacramental con-fession and the confidentiality surrounding it. Spiritual direction is referred to as belonging within the "internal, nonsacramental forum"; sacramental confession, the "internal, sacramental forum." Exceptions With the exception of sacramental confession (and, as some would hold, spiritual direction), some secrets may be revealed under certain circumstances. A basic axiom in regard to most secrets is: The more important the secret, the greater the reason needed to reveal it. The obligation to secrecy ceases ordinarily when (1) there is permission from the one who owns and reveals it; (2) when it has already been disclosed by others; (3) when there is sufficient reason to avert a greater evil, that is, to avert a grave danger to the common good or serious harm either to a third party or to the person revealing it. It is permissible to discuss confidential material in consulta-tion with a prudent third party while at the ~ame time taking care to protect the anonymity of the person revealing it--unless that person objects. In regard to spiritual direction, such a likelihood should be discussed and agreed to when the initial working rela-tionship is negotiated. As with the revelation of secrets, it is,also unethical to probe into secrets unless for a serious reason and by using just means. The fields of investigative journalism and criminal investigation have in recent years brought public attention to the ethical ques-tions of both what may be investigated and what methods may be used. Some Legal Considerations In the United States there are civil and ecclesiastical laws both protecting and restricting confidentiality that may some-times be in conflict or simply inadequate.~ Review for Religious Traditionally, constitutional decisions of the Supreme Court have deferred to ecclesiastical law, not wishing to interfere with the free exercise of religion which is protected under the religion clause of the first amendment of the United States Constitution. As a consequence, not only has the confidentiality concerning sacramental confession by an ordained Catholic priest been respected, but likewise the legal right to keep priv-. ileged communications confidential has been afforded to clergy of other traditions. Though they vary from state to state, statutes con-cerning the "clergy" privilege are part of each state's rules of evidence. Under them the fundamental rule is that the public has a right to every person's evidence. Privileged communications are an exception and must meet certain restrictive requirements. While "minister" is usually interpreted in a strict sense, that is, one who is ordained in the church, the parameters of this clergy priv-ilege vary from state to state. In familiarizing oneself with particular statutes, there are some questions that need to be asked such as: Who qualifies as a member of the "clergy"? What types of communi-cation are covered? What do the statutes require in terms of the regulation of the ministry of spiritual direction by a given church, denomination, or community? What must be the expectation of the one making the communication? What must be the nature of the relationship between the 'spiritual director and the one mak-ing the communication? 2 There have been conflicting decisions in the courts concern-ing those not ordained who are consulted as spiritual directors and who have claimed clergy privilege. In a case arising in 1971 in New Jersey, a Catholic sister was cited for contempt for her refusal to testify in a murder trial of a former pupil for whom she had been spiritual director. She claimed the statutory privilege allowed by New Jersey law protecting the confidentiality of those authorized by her church as a minister of spiritual direction. Her plea was rejected because counsel was unable to find anything in Catholic doctrine or practice that would give her the right to claim privileged communication? More recently, in 1985, a sister in Missouri refused to make a deposition concerning a plaintiff because of a previous relationship as spiritual director and was granted the clergy privilege by way of extension,4 The more important the secret, the greater the reason needed to reveal it. 37zdy-August 1997 2VlcCarty * Confutentiality Issues in Spiritual Direction ~ As more recognition is given to nonordained people who are nevertheless exercising ministries such as spiritual direction, it might be hoped that clergy privilege would be extended further. Yet legislators and courts, understandably and for obvious reasons, favor restriction of privilege when it comes to withholding evi-dence. In recent years, even pre~;iously recognized clergy privilege has been abrogated in many states with reference to child abuse. ~ Ecclesiastical law in the Roman Catholic Code of Canon Law (1983) carefully protects the secrecy of material confided in sacra-mental confession (cc. 983-984),,but has little to say with direct reference to the nonsacramental ministry of spiritual direction, in which.a growing number of nonordained people have become involved. As previously noted, civil law will generally respect the provisions of ecclesiastical law. Given the absence of specific eccle-siastical recognition of spiritual direction in the ministries of the church, it is difficult to discuss the rights of the nonordained in reference to privileged communication. Both official recognition and outside regulation of spiritual direction are problematic. There are some who have advocated regulation of this min-istry by ecclesiastical law to protect people from civil- and crim-inal- law requirements.5 They suggest that special guidelines, standards, or even statutes be created by denominations and reli-gious communities to protect members from having to divulge confidential information obtained in spiritual direction. Such statutes would call for defining spiritual direction as ministry, establishing it as an office in the church requiring certain quali-fications, providing for the presentation or selection of candi-dates, and making a statement concerning confidentiality that includes specified exceptions. If this course of regulation is fol-lowed, it has been suggested that such statutes or policies be pro-posed on an interfaith basis. This takes into consideration that frequently the spiritual director and the directee do not belong to the same denomination. So as to protect the rights of the confidant, such regulations would provide for no waiver of confidentiality on the part of the one confiding.: The regulations would be clear and consistently implemented. It has been further proposed that they would also include confidential communications received in pastoral coun-seling. and other nonsacramental ministries in which information is communicated in an atmosphere of confidentiality. Such regu-lation has benefits and deficits that will be dealt with later. Review for Religious There has been some inclination for courts to recognize the right of~nonordained spiritual directors to withhold privileged communications. (Of all the states at the present time, Illinois seems to have legislation most consistent with ecclesiastical pro-visions, even though it limits the privilege to those accredited by the religious body.6) However, for now at least, it would seem that spiritual directors may not assume that th4y can successfully claim clergy privilege in a civil court.7 To Regulate or Not to Regulate? On the one hand, it would seem beneficial for churches and communities officially to recognize and to regulate ministries of spiritual direction. On the other hand, though laws protect, they also tend to con-trol and thus hinder freedom. Regulation would have the advantage of gaining church recognition of the min-istry of spiritual direction. This would seem to make it more likely that the civil authorities would recognize privileged communications made to the nonor-dained, thus providing more legal protec-tion for those involved. In addition to official recognition of a ministry, it would also, seemingly, render malpractice and other forms of litigation less likely in that regulation would require evi-dence of a person's competency to be a spiritual director, would make statements of policy, and would provide for sanctions. On the negative side, with regulation there wouldbe certain trade-offs. Regulations would bring tighter outside controls to what has traditionally been more of a free and charismatic ministry. Recognition of bona fide spiritual directors has.come to a large extent from local faith communities in which people gifted for the ministry have been recognized and sought out, and much less from the approval of some institution, often at a distance from the local scene. Every ministry need not be created into an office. Moreover, regulation raises the question of who determines qualifications, policies, sanctions, and the like. Would such reg-ulation not raise the further complication of limiting the choice of directors to denominations recognized by the regulating agency? I would wonder whether, with the growing number of Both official recognition and outside regulation of spiritual direction are problematic. L3-75-- j%dy-August 1997 McCarty * Confidentiality Issues in Spiritual Direction malpractice suits, a regulating agency might be more liable for suits brought againsf an "approved" or "licensed" director. Such suits tend to go after the "deep pockets" of agencies having affin-ity with the individual. What Is the Alternative to Outside Regulation? Without a doubt, there is need for responsible stewardship in the exercise of any ministry and especially spiritual direction, which deals with the deepest and most delicate matters of a per-son's interior life. But, instead of regulation from the outside or from above, is it not,preferable for provisions and standards to come from within agencies preparing people for this ministry and professional societies supporting and challenging people in their practice of it? Laudable efforts at self-regulation by such groups as Spiritual Directors International, perhaps, have greater promise of balancing freedom with responsibility in exercising a respon-sible stewardship. Ethical and moral guidelines developed in this fashion are apt to call for even higher standards of professional-ism than would legal restrictions or an external regulating agency. Such guidelines would be concerned not just with confidentiality, but also with other important issues such as: (1) help in discern-ing whether one is genuinely called to exercise this ministry; (2) careful preparation and enrichment that would include pertinent understandings, processes, skills, and supervision; (3) encourage-ment: for ongoing education and formation in theological, scrip-tural, psychological, and other related disciplines; (4) maintenance of integrity in the role of spiritual director with regard to time, frequency, place of meetings, and so forth; (5) recognition of lim-its of competency in making or declining to make referrals; (6) avoidance of fostering emotional dependency; (7) ongoing assess-ment of each spiritual-direction relationship; (8) measures of accountability such as insisting that spiritual directors also receive spiritual direction and individual or pee~'-group supervision; and, most of all, (9) keeping, in the relationship, the focus on the per-son's God-relationship. Needed: A Poised Balance In this article we have explored the nature and necessity of Confidentiality in the ministry of spiritual ,direction and also some Revie~ for Religious legal considerations affecting its practice. We have considered some pros and cons of official recognition and outside regulation of this ministry. Hopefully, these considerations underscore the need for faithful stewardship in maintaining a poised balance between freedom and responsibility in the exercise of a ministry that calls for both sacred silence and public accountability. One who goes shopping for a product is cautioned: "Let the buyer beware!" Perhaps it is also wise advice for those seeking official recognition or outside regulation: "Let the seekers beware and proceed with caution!" We need open ears and closed mouths as we fulfill a sacred trust. Notes ' R.P. Stake, "Professionalism and Confidentiality in the Practice of Spiritual Direction," The Jurist 43 (1983): 214-232. z Stake, 227. 3 Stake, 228. 4 D.K. Iopollo et al., Confidentiality in the United States: A Legal and Canonical Study (Washington, D.C.: CLSA, 1988). s Stake, 231-232. 6 Iopollo, pp. 60-61. 7 Stake, 229. Wild Things Wild strawberries in the grass, tiny spots of red amid the green. One does not always understand how the wild things grow, rooted and strong though appearing fragile. So am L Lord, a wild thing, eager to grow anywhere, but there are times when the wind's so strong and it rains so hard and long that my weakness shows. Virginia Skrdlant SHCJ j%dy-August 1997 SEAN D. SAMMON Psychology: An Aid to Religious Formation psychology At the outset, let ug set the record straight: Psychology can be a help or a hindrance to formation for religious life. In the right hands it becomes a valuable tool for help-ing young people take up the life and mission of their congregation or institute. Its findings and principles can assist men and women religious in the middle years, too, and those of us facing the inevitable diminution that comes with age. Psychology, however, can also tyrannize us. In the wrong hands and incorrectly applied, it can lead to exces'- sire self-involvement and give rise to less than adequate preparation for today's demanding apostolic life~ With all that said, this admission must also be made: In some quarters of religious life, considerable suspicion continues to .exist about psychology and its practitioners. While in some instances good reason may support such wariness, in others it might very well be unfounded. This article will explore a possible place for psychol-ogy in initial and ongoing formation. There is nothing magical about the science of psychology. It is made up of many schools of thought, and its pr~actitioners engage in the same kind of debate as researchers in other human sciences do. Psychology is also a young science and, as Sehn D. Sammon FMS is vicar general of the Marist brothers. His address is Fratelli Maristi delle Scuole; C.P. 10250; 00144 Rorna, Italy. Review for Religious such, struggles still to find its place among those other sciences with longer and more established traditions. In spite of its many and varied approaches to the human per-son and its rather brief history, however, the findings of various schools of psychology--when correctly and appropriately applied--can assist formators in calling forth apostles for today. While formation is always the Lord's work, at the present time the~ fruit of the hard labor of some people in the mental-health field might be able to help us in a number of areas. Let us consider, for example, three specific and pressing ini-tial and ongoing formative challenges and examine how psychol-ogy may help: (1) educating for a healthy sense of our sexuality and life of celibate chastity, (2) preparing for the interpersonal chal-lenges found in today's ministry and community, and (3) deepen-ing our self-knowledge so as to ensure that some of our less than sterling motives~ do not interfere with the action that the Lord wishes to take through us. Before we address these issues, though, let us examine a few of psychology's tools and critique their pur-ported power. Psychology Is No "New Priesthood" Every profession has its rituals. Doctors, attorneys, teach-ers-- all have certain agreed-upon methods, principles, points of view. If, for example, you visit a doctor's office with a sore throat, a persistent cough, a headache, chills, and other aches and pains, you expect the physician to carry out a thorough examination and perhaps order some tests in order to diagnose correctly a head cold or pneumonia. Both conditions are treatable; the appropri-ate remedies, however, are different. Psychologists also have their rituals. Testing is one of them. Is there anything magical about the Rorschach test, the Thematic Apperception Test (TAT), the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), the Reitan battery, or other somewhat more culture-free instruments? Not really. Psychological testing will unearth little more than a perceptive person w0uld find out about another after a year or so of living together. Ask yourself this question: Do many months have i:o pass before you realize who is selfish, self-centered, generous, even-tempered, moody, very intel-ligent, and so forth, in any new community you join? What test-ing does is .give us this information more quickly. July-August 1997 Sammon ¯ Psychology Findings from testing can be of great help to any candidate for religious life and to his or her formators. IL for example, testing tells me that I am overly sensitive, opinionated, rigid, and stub-born-- well, then I have some grist for the mill of formative direc-tion. On the other hand, test results will also tell me about my strengths: my intellectual level, my ability to manage life's chal-lenges. Such findings are powerful allies in the work of forma-tion, for both the candidate and formator. Apostolic religious life has for years judged the admissibility of candidates by three general criteria: at least average intelli-gence, good judgment, and adequate physical health. A medical examination provides information about the last item; psycho-logical testing can help with the first two, To avoid pitfalls in testing, however, one should know, for example, how the test was normed. Obviously, an instrument that used a population of middle-income, midwestern United States citizens to establish its scoring criteria needs to be normed anew before being applied to candidates for religious life in Asia, Africa, Europe, and Latin America. Psychological examiners also need to be well acquainted with religious life and its values. How else will they be able to write a helpful report and provide feedback that encourages rather than hinders the process of formation? Before men and women in lead-ership or formation engage a psychologist to carry out the psy-chological assessment of a candidate or a member of the province, they need to be sure that the examiner understands and respects the values and commitments that are integral to religious life~ Formators also need to know the place of psychotherapy. This can be essential to growth for some members of a province or congregation, but psychotherapy cannot be the very mode of for-mation, even though a formator's accompaniment or direction may have therapeutic aspects. The psychotherapeutic relation-ship is different. It involves, for example, a different kind of per-sonal privacy for the client. If I am a psychologist in a therapeutic relationship with a client, I have no right to reveal anything disclosed to me in that relationship without the client's expressed and written permis-sion. The only exceptions to this rule are the laws in certain juris-dictions that mandate the reporting of some disclosed actual or anticipated criminal behavior such as child sexual abuse or homi-cide. The strict right to privacy that governs therapy allows clients Review for Religious to unburden themselves without fear of reprisal or judgment on the part of the therapist. That right must be protected. Formative direction or accompaniment is, in my opinion, dif-ferent. I prefer the word mentoring to describe this relationship. Mentors are like older brothers or sisters, persons close in age but with more experience. Mentors help younger people--and at times contemporaries and older folks--to identify the dreams in their life and to give those dreams a place in that life. Mentors are both parents and peers, and not exclu-sively one or the other. They offer example, challenge, acceptance, counsel, and at times friendship. The following distinction between a therapist and a mentor might help clarify their differing roles. Therapists, in general, do not disclose to clients information about their own personal lives. In contrast, an accompaniateur (a companionable guide) or person doing'formative direction might often enough use a per-sonal example to encourage the person being directed, to chal-lenge him or her or illustrate a point. Do accompaniateurs and those doing formative direction, then, need to be psychologists to be effective? Of course not. Do they need adequate and up-to-date information about human devel-opment and its principles? Absolutely. Most accompaniateurs can also benefit from having at hand a mental-health person to help with advice or to provide supervision when needed. To insist that every accompaniateur or person doing formative direction be a psychotherapist, however, misses this important reality: religious formation is a spiritual and not a psychological journey. Religious formation is a spiritual and not a psychological journey. Education for a Healthy Sense of Human Sexuality and Celibate Chastity Celibate chastity is in trouble today. When a colleague, friend, student, or family member asks us why we are living a life of celi-bate chastity, we respond quickly: For the sake of the kingdom, to love everyone and not just one person, to be more available. Then we pause and hope that there will be no more questions.~ The vast majority of us in religious life' have had inadequate education about human sexuality and celibate chastity. How many Sammon ¯ Psycholo~ of us, for example, recognize the important distinction between sexuality and genitality or realize that celibate chastity cannot be equated with asexuality?. Celibate chastity is a particular way of liv-ing out my sexuality. Today, more than before, psychology can provide us with realistic information about our human sexuality, information that will also help us to grow in our appreciation of our life of celibate chastity. God can be held responsible for passing out sexual energy. Just as we have spiritual energy, so also we have sexual energy. For what purpose? Our sexual energy draws us into relationships with other people and with our God. For some of us it might come as a surprise to learn that. the purpose of sexual and spiritual energy is the same: union with God and with others. Any adequate program of education for celibate chastity would do well to include information about the factors that advance or impede healthy psychosexual development. In addition, we could benefit today by some additional frank discussion about sexual orientation, masturbati~)n, intimacy in relationships (and the dif-ferent expectations of men and women in this latter area), and the spiritual foundation for celibate chaste living. During our religious formation many of us were warned about "particular friendships." Stop for a moment now and consider that phrase, Then ask yourself this question: Is there any other type of friendship than a particular friendship? I do not think so. Obviously, this preoccupation with particular friendships was often at the heart of past concerns about sexuality: a fear that . people might lose control of one very powerful part of their lives. We need to be quite clear about this important point: All of us must make decisions in life about our human sexuality. Married people, single and single-again people, celibate chaste people--no ¯ one escapes the process of decision making. For our peace of mind, the decisions we make need to be in keeping with our val- . ues and commitments. If I am a married man, for example, and I )want to remain faithful to my wife, I will have to set some limits in other important relationships in my life. If any of us believe that we do not, from time to time, have to make some difficult deci-sions about how we will channel our sexual energy, we are living in a dream world. Psychology can assist us in our education about .human sexu-ality. Furthermore, studies made of stages of growth in lives of celibate chastity2--~ith its fidelities and failures can help all of Review for Relig4ous us appreciate the wonder of this way of being a sexual person. Paradoxically, in the end psychology can help us understand that to be at home with our life of celibate chastity we must ultimately face what it means to be a spiritual person. Most of us are quite at ease when talking about the place of poverty and obedience in our lives. While we might not always agree on the day-to-day specifics involved in living out these vows, we can, without too much difficulty, discuss their place in our lives. Psychology and its current findings about human sex-uality might help us achieve the same ability to discuss celibate chastity. Interpersonal Challenge,s Found in Today's Ministry and Community Life Have you ever lived with a'chronic complainer? This simple test will help you decide if there is one in your life: When some-one comes to talk with you, does he or she generally sit down right away? You know the reason full well: they are going to be there for a long, long'time. The story of Jonah illustrates this: even God tired of such incessant whining! How about life with negativists--those people who, when faced with a new and hopeful idea, respond by saying "it won't work," "we tried it last year and it failed," and "those in charge around here are not intelligent enough to see to its implementation." Do stallers hold a prominent place in your life of ministry?- folks who ~iust could not make a decision even if your life and theirs depended on it. And what about men and women who with'- hold information unnecessarily so as to keep undue control of any situation? Realistic people do not expect their lives of ministry or in community to be altogether free of troublesome folks. There are, however, some individuals whose behavior can sap energy from us that would be better directed toward the work of the mission. Organizational psychology and some of its principles can teach us to cope with these difficult characters and their kissing cousins.3 With what outcome? So that all of us can get on better with the task at hand:'living together harmoniously and carrying out our mission in the church. Every community, too, passes through its own stages of growth.4 Some communities are healthy places in which to live, Jvdy-August 1997 Sammon * Psychology others less so. We have all participated in community meetings, for example, where the real meeting took place in small groups after the formal meeting had come to a close. Poor communica-tion skills, the lack of a vocabulary with which to discuss some difficult topics, a failure to learn ways to respectfully disagree with one another when necessary--all those factors can make life in community something other .than what it should be: a support to us in carrying out our mission. Psychology can help a community identify where it is in its own development and can suggest steps that can be taken to enhance its spiritual, ministerial, and interpersonal growth. Psychology can also help us develop the skills we need to live together more effectively and with genuine Christian charity. We all need a place to come home to. If our religious com-munities fail to be places where friendship is possible, human hnd spi~ritual support available, and the love that can exist between sisters, and brothers evident--well, then, who would freely choose to live this life? In many church ministries today, there are tensions. Sometimes it is tension between men and women. At times strife develops between priests and lay religious or between religious and their lay partners. Tension can spring up among members of any ministry team. If the level of tension in our ministry reaches a point where the mission is no longer being carried out effectively, the science of psychology can provide some specific help. More importantly, principles of psychology can. be used to nip in the bud any developing problem before it becomes something larger than life. 3-84 Self-kngwledge in the Service of the Mission Did you know that there is no such thing as a perfect family? There are good enough families--where 'the people and the place provide what we need for life, along with a push out the door so that life can expand--but, no, perfect families exist only in the imagination of some people. We take our families with us when we come into religious life. ~While its members may not be physically visible, they do participate in some way in every community meeting that we attend. Families shape and form us--for good or ill. We: also bring along to religious life what we learned about Review.for Religious ourselves while living in our family. In yours, for example, how was anger dealt with, was sexuality talked about openly, did disagree-ment give rise to alienation from the family at large? In some families, for example, members may stop talking to one another in the face of a disagreement or disappointment. In my family, for example, I realize in retrospect that expres-sions of anger were not encouraged. To signal that events were getting out of hand with me, my mother would often use the phrase "Sefin, be nice!" Though nowadays I pay less attention to it, still--when I am feeling angry, even at my present age--I hear her saying "Se~in, be nice!" Some of us suffer from low self-esteem. Simply put, we do not think we are worth very much. Low self-esteem is often the result of receiving information coming from my world through a series of faulty filters. Because of what we have been told about ourselves, some of us eventually come to believe that we are worthless or, at best, not worth very much. When people with low self-esteem make a mistake, for exam-ple, they suffer shame rather than embarrassment. Rather than learn from the error of their ways, they "beat themselves up" instead and insist that .they are bad people undeserving of any recognition or praise. We take our families with us when we come into religious life. Low Self-esteem a Threat to Effective Ministry Low self-esteem is a threat to effective ministry. Why? When our self-esteem is low, we begin to look to have our needs met by those we are called to serve. Eventually we need them more than they need us. When such a situation develops, we are no longer doing ministry. Rather, by our "serving" others we are promoting our own well-being, our own good feelings about ohrselve.s. Once again psychology can help us--towards enhanced self-esteem that is in the service of mission. Self-intimacy--a gift that often comes with mid-lifeS--helps us accept the particular and perhaps peculiar amalgam of bits and pieces that make up who we are. By mid-life we know full well that our motives for doing things in life are often mixed. Tha~: knowledge, in itself, helps keep us honest when it comes to ministry. Sammon ¯ PsycholoKv The Lord came for sinners and not the saved. At mid-life many of us feel more of a need to be redeemed than ever before. We have become distinctly aware of personal and social sin. But this self-understanding paradoxically enhances our self-esteem. This knowledge, in itself, helps keep us honest when it comes to ministry, helps us to carry out the Lord's mission free of illusion. Psychology and its principles can play an important role in this purification. Psychology Can Help In summary, then, psychology--used as one formative tool among many others--can be a friend to formators in religious congregations and institutes and an ally for mid-life and senior women and men religious in their ongoing formation. Today in particular it may help deepen our understanding about our com-mitment to celibate chastity, provide us with skills for greater effectiveness in ministry and a rich life in community, and help ~us grow in .greater self-awareness and self-acceptance in service of the mission of Jesus. If it does help a~complish these ends, that fact in itself will be a blessing beyond measure. Good psychology has more to do with self-transcendence than with self-fulfillment. It is not antithetical to the concept of sin, to admitting guilt, nor to penance and self-sacrifice. Rightly used, psychology leads to greater freedom of spirit and more effective ministry. Notes ~ Sefin D. Sammon, An Undivided Heart: Making Sense of Celibate Chastity (Staten Island, New York: Mba House, 1993). 2 A.W. Richard Sipe, A Secret World: Sexuality and the Search for CeJibacy (New York: Brunner/Mazel, Publishers, 1990). 3 Robert M. Bramson, Coping with Difficult People (Garden City, New York: Doubleday Anchor, 1981); Se~n D. Sammon, Don't Get Eaten for B~eakfast: Making Sense of the Impossible People in Your Life (forthcoming). 4 Rosine Hammett and Loughlan Sofield, Inside Christian Community (Jesuit Center for Human Development, 1981). s Se~n D. Sammon, Life afier Youth: Making Sen~se of One Man's~ourney through the Transition at Mid-life (Staten Island, New York: Alba House, 1997). Review for Religious ALEXANDER H. SMITH Mental-Health Consultation with Religious Orders Myental-health consultation has evolved over the past thirty ears in a specialty with a large body of literature on the process and technique, with diverse applications (Caplan and Caplan, 1993; R. Caplan, 1972; Altrocchi, 1972). Relatively few of these studies directly apply to religious orders, where their mem-bers have made lifelong commitments to membership and where the consultative process must be crafted to accommodate the unique features of religious life in a group setting. Mental-health consultation with a religious community requires a clarity of purpose at,times even more demanding than that in agency, school, or other ifistitutional setting. Within 'the community beats the heart of its spiritual tradition, one that pre-sumably drew its members, at least at a conscious level, to seek God and serve others. Beyond these oversimplified parameters, the climate of expected altruism and fraternal charity can paradoxically create the possibilities of boundary confusion, difficult limit set-ting, self-righteous entitlement, and exaggerated expectations of being understood and accommodated. Herein lie the often found tangle of inspired devotio0 and the all-too-easily-disillusioned psyche with its comple~es, hidden desires and aversions, power struggles, and longings. Not infrequently these very issues drive the community to seek assistance. Religious communities frequently experience a range of needs for outside help. The problems occur in group-level issues such Alexander H. Smith Jr., EdD, is a profession~il counseling psychologist. His address is 3150 Willis Avenue; Cincinnati, Ohio 45208. j~dy-August 1997 Smith * Mental-Health Consultation as conflict resolution, factioning, and decision making, They occur often to individuals as thorny personality conflicts and in groups as resistance to assimilating new tasks and letting go of old ones. Almost all communities have been faced with the problem of dwindling membership, including losses both of old timers and of new members who do not stay. Many communities are half the size they were thirty years ago, and few have found effective ways to integrate "then and now." Administrative talent varies across com-munities, and the management of the group according to its charism in this subculture of increased psYchological awareness is very challenging. Renewed individualism often stretches the best of minds to steer a course that supports the individual and the group as well. Most communities must cope with practical realities of day-to-day community life that become too hot to handle as a group. The community that approaches consultation in an informed way can realize more effective outcomes. The community's effort to make these course corrections with the consultant's assistance is best served when both the community and the consultant are familiar with what tO expect from each other. Such an informed recogni-tion of issues that are often unique to religious communities helps facilitate a more hopeful tone from inception to termination. The application~ of consultation to religious life appear to range from uninform~ed and sometimes naive "hacking" to highly competent psychological models that integrate diagnostic and intervention strategies from group process theory, models of con-sultation, knowledge of defense organization-in individuals and groups, and so on. This essay considers in very basic form these elements of effective consultation from the perspectives of both consultant and community in order to inform, to caution, and to encourage well-grounded principles and practices. What Type of Consultation Is Best for This Community? The consultant must help the community to select the appro-priate type of consultation. Caplan and Caplan (1993) have iden-tified four major ones: client-centered case consultation, consultee-centered case consultation, program-centered admin-istrative consultation, and consultee-centered administrative con-sultation. These me~hods differ in their targets of service delivery. Review for Religfous They were developed primarily for assisting other therapists work-ing with clinical populations, and they range across a spectrum of targets within a system from problems of an individual client to those of program development and organization. This model of reflective, "indirect" consultation differs substantially from that of organizational development where the focus is on team building, conflict resolution, and other modalities of more direct action methods (see Altrocchi). Two main types of consultation are probably most frequent for religious communities. These are consultation for individual cases where a mental-health issue has emerged, and administrative con-sultation where group-process difficulties need to be addressed. An adaptation of these principles to the :exigencies of life in religious communities is essential for both the consultant and for the com-munity. Usually there are crossing lines of communication, author-ity, and role functions, and the consultant must recognize that decision-making boundaries may be more fluid and that author-ity lines may vary from centralized to decentralized ones. More importantly, the nature of community life involves life commit-ments by its members to form and to maintain a group which supports its members' very livelihood. This reality requires that the consultant reconceptualize the consultation model as one which impacts not only service or "case management" in a work setting, but one which accommodates and supports the manifest structures .of a group whose very livelihood depends upon inter-personal competence and adherence to a task. The Alliance between the Consultant and the Community: Clarifying the Stated Purpose The initial phase of consultation includes the assessment of the community's tolerance for self-observation and for facing uncomfortable and at times painful issues. Some communities are more rigid than others. Some communities are more capable of examining attitudes, beliefs, and practices which interfere with accomplishing their stated aims. Some communities roll with the inevitable punches of difficult times and problematic personalities in a fairly relaxed way. Others struggle frequently, often appear-ing brittle and easily fragmented. The community's decision to seek consultation is rarely unan-imous; the events that lead up to the decision are themselves diag- ~dy-Aug'ust 1997 Smith ¯ Mental-Health Consultation The initial phase of consultation includes the assessment of the commumty s tolerance for self-observation and for facing uncomfortable and at times painful issues. ---.-390 nostic for the group and'for the consultant. The consultant who works with a religious order encounters a network of unique opportunities to assist individuals in a group. The consultant faces with the client community the same human foibles found in any organization. The! engagement with the community from its inception requires that the consultant maintain an integrity about the consultation. Often the initial request for consultation concerns unrecog-nized scapegoating. All group processes invariably include struggle with how to handle anger, disappoint-ment, and disavowed responsibility and therefore with the phenomenon of scapegoating. The process of scape-goating in religious life is surprisingly frequent. Historically it was often fos-silized in such matters as the status of lay brothers. A community's history with these major conflictual issues can be read ,off the contemporary problem foci, and the consultant can begin to read between the lines. For example, one community sought help about how to deal with a difficult member who was "conserva~ tive" and who would isolate himself from the rest of the communify, not participating in common prayer and work. The stated problem, of course, was to address the community's difficulty with its member. However, the com-munity had been chronically divided within itself about liturgical and dress practices. The community maintained the conflict for years by censuring any differentiation from the "new" majority norm. It had ironically created an authoritarian norm that resem-bled the very ones it prided itself for opposing in the larger cl~urch and had scapegoated "problem" members as they came through the ranks. The consultant initially should convey an acceptance of these problems as they are stated, while maintaining the accompanying desire to help the community in the most appropriate way possi-ble. The task here is to open the door to reasonable consideration of all the forces that define the problem as it appears to the com-munity and to be able to further negotiate the community's will- Review for Religious ingness to redefine it or "reframe" it in adaptive ways. In a way quite similar to (but by no means the same as) the initial stages of a psychotherapy, the consultant conveys a tolerance for the ambi-guity of the problem and seeks to draw the community into a more self-observing stance. Elaborating the Consultative Request The initial request usually stands as the consciously stated reason for help. Inevitably it includes a variety of unconsciously associated "agendas." The consultan~ recognizes these hidden forces that have coalesced to prompt the seeking of assistance and will respectfully inquire about them without attempting to inter-vene. They have a much longer life than the consciously stated one., The consultant for religious communities should maintain a particular ear for the historical context of these problem areas. Initially the community often challenges the consultant to do something impossible and then waits to see whether she or he is grandiose enough to try to tackle it. Questions like "Can you help us, deal with all the unspoken anger in this bunch?" need to be answered in a modest but respectfully humorous way: "Well. let me think a minute . . . what happened to the last guy who tried it?" After the ice is broken with the group's powerbrokers, the question can be restated in terms that can more easily be addressed, again hopefully with some humor: "Well . . . some-thing is getting in the way of people here being able to speak their piece., without getting sent ~to New Guinea . " The consultant takes these intangibles into account and for-mulates in clear language an agreement with the community about what consultation will be about, what it can and cannot accom-plish, when and how it will occur, when it will conclude, and what the sort of fee would be involved. The community should expect some response from the consultant that clearly formulates the current understanding of the problem.from perspectives of both community and consultant. Such a statement is usually best if it is,simple and colloquial and contains a potential for redefinition later on: You guys have really been struggling with this prob-lem about who lives with whom., and you're also saying you want to start closing out some parish work, that every-body is getting burned out., you really don't have to wait July-August 1997 Smitb * Mental-Healtb Consultation until the whole team is carried off the field before changing the game plan., let's see if it makes sense to meet a few times and see if there's some connection between these issues, how the community presently thinks about it and what would give the problem some fresh air . The initial phase is a get-acquainted one for both par-ties. The community needs time to size up the consultant and vice versa. The anxiety that accompanies a community's need for help can prompt it (and the consultant) into a pre-mature determination of type of consultation. The com-munity may be panicked about a growing tension between members or between subgroups and may demand quick results from the consultation. It is the height of folly for the consultant to rush in with psy-chological inventories or group-assessment devices. The religious in a community live there as well as work there. The consultant goes home. The context is different from industry, whei'e people at least have the escape of going home themselves in the evening. One community had be~n very reserved about seeking, con~ sultation. Careful assessment revealed that a previous consultant had come in for some "team building" and had required the com-munity to take a popular (but psychometrically compromised) test and then had proceeded to place the results on newsprint around the walls of the'community recreation room. No one would attend any further meetings; the community felt railroaded, overexposed, and very upset with the consultant. The consultant never stayed around long enough to get the feedback about how such cavalier interventions affected real people's lives. The community members' response to the proposed method is significant, for it often reflects attitudinal force and counterforce at work. For example, one community's s~uperior would not directly address the issue of the fee~ The consultant was told to contact the financial officer, an individual who was rather irrita-ble and demanding. The financial officer spoke to the consultant in a veiled condescending way, expressing dismay that the con-sultant even dare to charge a fee to a religious order. Such interactions in the initial phase reflect not only an anx-iety which the community cannot master, but also the manner by which it resolves it. Here the problem is manifested as anxiety about having adequate supplies and resources, whereas the uncon-scious fears seem to be around loss of control and authority. The community has designated someone who is rather difficult to con- Review for Religious trol the purse strings. The resolution is observed in the superior's being unable to address the financial issue directly and hiding behind the irritability of the financial officer. This kind of maneu-ver results in the superior coming across as a weak negotiator and never allowing the community to meet the financial issue head on. Some other forces are at work: the superior is set up as a "pup-pet" and the actual control resides in "old-timers" who are direct-ing the choice of leadership. The consultant's appearance on the scene is less than welcome, for they fear that the whole consultative process will undermine their "fiefdom." The community rarely lets the consultant in on the main difficulty all at once, especially in the beginning phase. The community has grappled with some issue for a long time; it has seen various personalities struggle with it with varying degrees of success. There have usually been fluctuations in leadership styles, in gov-ernance and decision-making processes, and in community responses to the changes. The texture of the com-munity's approach is often tied into its history and charism as well as to the current composition of

Issue 69.3 of the Review for Religious, 2010. ; ANew Chal!en~e Models of Spi~rituali, ty Liv, ing Religious Li£e ' Foliow~ing Christ QUARTERLY 69.3 2010 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope' Paul Vl said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih reviewrfr@gmail.com ¯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 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. ©2010 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~ gournalof Ca~ho~c ~piri~ua~y rel Editor Associate Editor Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho SJ Martin Erspamer OSB' Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 69.3 2010 contents prisms 228 Prisms 230 238 a new challenge ~ Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age Daniel P. Horan OFM reflects on the role technology currently plays in both supporting and challenging Christians in their fellowship (koinonia) as church. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Hear and Far Hedwig Lewis SJ probes the inclusive meaning and reach of frontiers for spiritual enhancement and effective ministry. The term frontiers, contained in Decree Three of the 35th General Congregation of the Society of Jesus has gained popularity among many religious. 226] 255 268 models of spirituality ~ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross Judith Metz SC explores a central element of St. Elizabeth Seton's spirituality: her realization of the importance of losing her life for the sake of living in closer union with Christ. A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth Avis Clendenen finds in an aging sister's simple tale a vision of the humility that our dangerously narcissistic culture seriously needs. Review for Religious 281 297 living religious life Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice Robert Nogosek CSC proposes that in order for religious life to be authentic discipleship it demands of us an ongoing reevaluation of what is required to be a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God. Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious Jeffrey Mickler SSP brings together some observations and practical suggestions on how to deal with problematic religious. 3O9 316 following Christ The Liturgical Year: History or Mystery? John M. Samaha SM examines the movement of the liturgical year in order that we might enter more fully into this time of grace. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Discipleship and Clinging to God Damian C. Ilodigwe writes on how letting go opens us to true discipleship, and we are invited to detach ourselves from wayward affections in order to attach ourselves to God. departments 324 Scripture Scope: Reading and Understanding the Prophets 328 Book Review 227 69.3 2010 prisms 228 In the middle months of a secular calendar year, we find ourselves in what is identified as "ordinary time" in the church's liturgical year. As we likely have been told many times, the liturgical "ordinary time" refers to a way of counting (the Latin word ordo meaning "an ordering") the Sundays from one to thirty-four. These are the Sundays that are outside of the special seasons of Advent and Christmas, Lent and Easter. Yet for us Christians, there is a kind of lovely paradox in living within what we call the "liturgical season of ordinary time." While in many ways it may seem that all time is ordi-nary (since time is always countable), in other ways we can view all time as rather extraordi-nary. The ordinariness of time is caught up in our usual round of family or community life, of work and recreation, of the accustomed interaction of friends, neighbors, and fellow-workers. Some people try to break out of the day-to-day routine by deliberately scheduling in a special time for a dinner out, a day-trip to an unfamiliar town, or a different recreational activity such as biking or bowling. Review for Religious A number of people find each day an adventure and cannot imagine that there are some who would call life ordinary. These people find a newness in the chang-ing weather of this day, in the surprising interactions with their own children or friends, and even in the mes-sages of the mail, the internet, and the iphone. They have retained a certain childlikeness that retains a won-der,. about life in all its forms. For them life is not so much ordinal, that is, "countable," as it is caught up in "moments" that have no countable passage. For exam-ple, moments of insight and moments of being inflamed by love--spiritually identified as consolations--are truly beyond the countable. We Christians are blessed and graced to recognize these kinds of "moments" in prayer during which we feel caught up outside of time in our relationship with God. Surely it does not happen all the time; in fact, the "ordinary" is our "slugging away" at our prayer time. We can also know these moments when we are engaged in our various times of joy, happiness, and love. The wonder of it all is that these moments for us--those who are caught in finding life ordinary and those who are gifted to live in wonder--are actually moments that happen in the ordinary course of our daily living. Perhaps that is why it is important for us to enter fully into the paradox of our church's liturgical season of ordinary rime. There i~ the reality of the ordinary and there is also the reality of the moment. The church's liturgical year reminds us that God is always present to us both in the ordinary and in the moment. We need only to pray each day of our liturgical year to be gr.aced with the gratitude that finds God in all times and places. David L. Fleming sJ 69.3 2010 a new DANIEL P. HORAN challenge 2301 Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age If Jesus had been born in 1980 and began his public ministry in 2010, would he have "friended" the twelve apostles on Facebook instead of visiting the Sea of Galilee? While this question might at first seem comical, it reflects concern about how the church as the Christian community relates to the world in which it exists today. The world is very different from the world of Jesus' ministry. The way many people experience interpersonal communication, develop and maintain relation-ships, and share information is strikingly dif-ferent from the ways of previous generations. In an era marked by advances in technology, communication, and virtual space, we must be attentive to how much our church community is being influenced or shaped by its new envi-ronment. To understand some of these matters Daniel P. Horan .OFM has written on Franciscan the-ology, philosophy, and spirituality. He writes from Holy Name College; 1650 Saint Camillus Drive; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. Review for Religious in what we may call the "digital age," we must look first at what unites us in faith and then at how our changing world affects that unity. What Is Koinonia? Early in the Acts of the Apostles, we are told that members of the nascent Christian community "devoted thems'elves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship (koinonia), to the breaking of bread and the prayers" (Ac 2:42). In Greek, koinonia was one of the marks of Christian identity, but what does it mean? It literally means "communal-ness" (community, communion, "in common") and thus fellowship. In the Christian con-text, however, this is more than club mem . bership or casual social connections. The New Testament scholar Luke Timothy Johnson sug-gests that this under-standing of koinonia includes our unity in Christ, which explains how the Christian com-munity was able to maintain unity amid the ~hallenges it faced in the first centuries. In a 1999 lecture at St. Louis University, Johnson offered four aspects of this Christian fellow-ship: fellowship among persons, in writing, in material resources, and in convictions.1 Even in diverse cultures, regions, and languages, Christianity was unified through these four aspects of koinonia. The fellowship among persons is seen in the way net-works of New Testament figures, including the apostles The fellowship in writing is most clearly seen in the way .that. early Christian texts,. were shared among the early believers~ [231 69.3 2010 Horan ¯ Koinonia and the Cburcb in the Digital Age and their successors, helped to unify the various com-munities of believers. Johnson believes that these per-sonal connections helped to maintain coherence in the early Christian movement. The fellowship in writing is most clearly seen in the way that early Christian texts, which would later be canonized as Scripture, were shared among the early believers in different locations. The exchange of these compositions, sometimes letters and sometimes longer narratives, concretized the common experience of the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. The communal reflec-tion on these compositions proved to be an important means of developing koinonia. The fellowship in material resources united the first Christians in a seemingly calculable way that was under-stood more deeply as symbolizing a spiritual connec-tion with other believers. We see in both the Acts of the Apostles and in the Letters of Paul references to offerings for the benefit of the local community ("no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common," Ac 4:32), and the greater Christian community spread throughout the land ("conc+rning the collection for the saints., on the first day of every week, each of you is to put aside and save whatever extra you earn," 1 Co 16:1-2). Sharing financial resources represented spiritual koinonia. The last form of fellowship is that in convictions. Johnson notes that in the New Testament we see con-flicts arising over interpretations of some mat(ers, but that some convictions are never contested. Three of these are monotheism (identifying the one God as the God of the Torah), knowledge that Jesus was human and died, and belief that Jesus was now living with God and would share in God's triumph in the future. Review for Religious All four forms of koinonia that Johnson highlights contribute to the unity amid diversity in the early.church. We see that they have continued to unite the church. The Possibility of Digita! Koinonia With the understanding that this fourfold koinonia continues even today, we can now look at how it relates to us in our technologically advanced and technologically permeated world. It seems there is nothing that does not have a digital or virtual counterpart: Much of today's communication takes place on the Internet in such sites as Facebook and MySpace. Interacting in a completely digital environment where simple laws of nature, com-mon social mores, and geographical limits are no longer applicable is becoming more common through programs like SecondLife. These new forms of communication and social interaction allow the users to create, modify, and experiment with their identities in unprecedented ways. These new "identities" can participate in what are often called "online communities." Is it possible then to express koinonia in a digital format, to have "church" or a community of believers come together in an authentic way online? It would seem at first glance to be a possibility. The clearest congruency between koinonia and the digital age is likely found within the context 6f the fel-lowship among persons. The Second Vatican Council's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen gen-tium, says: "All of the faithful, scattered though they be throughout the. world, are in communion with each other in the Holy Spirit" (LG §13).2 Earlier in Lumen gentium we are told that the church "transcends all limits of time and confines of race [and is] destined to extend to all regions of the earth" (LG §9). Transcending the 69.3 2010 Horan ¯ Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age boundaries of temporality and human differences sug-gests that connecting and communicating with others through digital media and the Internet is indeed a con-temporary manifestation of fellowship among persons. Additionally, the "blog" (short for "weblog") and other digital media make written compositions and reflections on normative religious texts more read-ily available. Even in graduate theological schools, the ubiquity of technologies such as BlackBoard or WebCT has reshaped the way students of Scripture and theology read about, reflect on, and share their faith. It would seem that Christians are no longer limited to parish Bible study, adult catechesis, or other forms of faith-sharing face to face. Instead, thecommunica(ion of biblical and theological reflection now transcends the previous spatial and temporal boundaries. You can read about, reflect on, and share your faith at any time and from nearly any place. The fellowship in material resources in contempo-rary Christian communities occurs largely by way of the Internet. Technology enables the faithful to share their material resources directly or indirecdy with other communities at the click of a computer mouse. When natural disaster, crime, or war affects the people of God on any continent or at any time, the Internet has allowed Christians to assist others instantaneously. This has been the case in recent years with aid to victims of the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004 and victims of hur-ricane Katrina in New Orleans in 2005. The sharing of material resources in these instances also represents the spiritual unity of the people of God, spread around the world though they are. The final dimension of koinonia that Johnson has highlighted for us, fellowship in convictions, can also be for Reli#ous seen in the new technologies of the digital age. From the beginning of the Internet, digital "communities" formed to share ideas and information. Early on, this occurred in what were called "chat rooms" and "message boards," where one could connect with others and contribute to a continuing conversation about a particular subject. Today the successors to those early formats might be Facebook "groups" and personal blogs. Centered on commonly held beliefs and convictions, these digital "spaces" allow people to connect with others without regard to temporal or geographic boundaries. Given the apparent compatibility of Luke Johnson's fourfold definition of koinonia with the technological advances of our digital age, it seems we could advocate a form of "digital koinonia." There remains, however, a piece of the puzzle that is not accounted for in this digital koinonia. The church is not united in this form of fellowship alone, but is also a Eucharistic community. From Facebook to Eucharist However great the possibilities for increasing koi-nonia among the Christian faithful, we must recall the passage from Acts cited above wherein the community was also devoted to the breaking of the bread. Cardinal Walter Kasper, in his book That They May All Be One,3 reminds us that the church is not simply an organization or club in which we have become some sort of mem-ber, and that we are brought into participation in the mystery of Christ as a part of Christ's Body through the sacrament of baptism. The participation--the set of relationships we enter through baptism and maintain through koinonia--comes to what Kasper calls "the summit," namely, participation in the Eucharist, a theme from Sacrosanctum concilium, 69.3 2010 Horan ¯ Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age the council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. In this light we can understand Christian koinonia as being both a communal or material unity and a sacramental unity. Kasper is in line with Johnson's fourfold koinonia, but reminds us that this koinonia is inherently sacramental, rooted in our shared baptism and Eucharist. Understanding koinonia as being fundamentally sac-ramental while also communal, we see two sets of rela-tionship in the church's koinonia, The first one Kasper calls the horizontal dimension of koinonia. It is what we have seen in Johnson's fourfold framework: fellow- - ship among persons, . , ~ in writing, in material resources, and in con-viction. The second set Kasper describes as the vertical dimension: the explicitly sacramental fellowship of believers, who in baptism are united to Christ and thus brought into the life of the Trinity. This dimension, the vertical or sac-ramental, cannot be replicated on Facebook, MySpace, SecondLife, or any other technological medium. People cannot have their SecondLife avatar baptized online and cannot participate in the celebration of the Eucharist online either. In light of the ideas of'Luke Timothy Johnson and Cardinal Walter Kasper and in line with the vision of the Second Vatican Council, the church in this digital age of ours is clearly aided in living its koinonia, but not, of course, in the matter of baptism and the Eucharist, with their water, bread, and wine. The horizontal dimension We can understand Christian koinonia as being both a communal or material unity and a sacramental unity,° 236 Review for Religious of koinonia could very likely benefit from more engage-ment with online technologies that transcend some of the usual limits of place and time. At the same time, there is a need to move beyond this digital koinonia to fully include the sacramental and vertical dimension in the celebration of baptism and Eucharist. Had Jesus "friended" the Apostles on Facebook, he would have veryqikely sent an "e-vite" to each one for an in-person gathering shortly thereafter. Notes ~ Luke Timothy Johnson, "Koinonia: Diversity and Unity in Early Christianity," Theology Digest 46 (1999): 303-313. 2 All references to conciliar documents are to Vatican Council II, ed. Austin Flannery OP (New York: Costello Publishing, 1992). 3 Walter Kasper, That They May All Be One: The Call To Unity Today (New York: Continuum, 2004). Questions for Personal Reflection and Group Study 1. In what ways do you experience koinonia in today's church? 2. How do you see technology impacting the way we live out our call to Christian discipleship? Are there other positive or negative dimensions associated with this reality? 3. What are the ways we might better use technology to support authentic communion within the Christian community today? 23.7 69.3 2010 HEDWIG LEWIS Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 23,8 ~reOvarle daStt intuotd oens.l yI nc o2m0m06u,n tihcaet es lmanega n"icnogo blu"t walasso said to be the most popular word of the year. It had acquired a new set of meanings and suggested a specific mindset. The word, however, did not affect Jesuits: they were warming up for a general congregation (GC35) to be held in early 2008. When it was finally in session, the delegates wanted to set the world on fire. A special decree (D2) defined the Jesuit as a "man on fire" at the frontiers of humanity. Decree Three (D3) is tided "Challenges to Our Mission Today: Sent to the Frontiers." "Frontiers" became the theme of several docu-ments and the new buzzword of the Jesuits. It is no longer just a romantic term, but has evoked enthusiasm and captured Jesuit imaginations. It has become popular also among other religious worldwide.~ Hedwig Lewis SJ writes again from St. Xavier's College; P.B. 4168; Ahmedabad 380 009; India. His website is http://joygift.tripod.com. Review for Religious Understanding Frontiers The word frontier has varied meanings: the edge of empires, a place for adventure and heroism, technologi-cal testing for new industries, conquest or rich cultural exchange. In Europe it refers simply to the boundaries between nations. The colonies the Europeans established in the rest of the world became, first of all, European societies and cultures on farther frontiers. In the United States the frontier, in history and popular culture, has meant the setting for adventure and prosperity, valor and villainy. The national character is seen as having been forged in the trials and triumphs of life on the frontier. The pioneer experience supposedly pf0duced the best traits of the American people--their tenacity, individualism, love of democracy, patriotism, inventive-ness, and much more. Many historians today question such views, but few would deny that "frontier," broadly understood, has had an influence not only in North America but in the rest of the world as well. The expansion of European peo-ples brought a variety of complicated changes to human society and to the physical world itself. The frontier was an unsetding force--socially, culturally, politically, and ecologically) No longer just a geographic term implying some restrictions, "frontier" is also used in referring intel-lectual aiad scientific advances and ideological visions. Today "ideas, information, merchandise, technology, and capital circulate freely; persons also circulate, though with many more restrictions. Frontiers have become porous, and in many cases they have disappeared. The world has become multireligious and multicultural. There is no longer a notion of Christendom with delim-ited frontiers beyond which lies mission territory.''3 69.3 2010 Lewis * Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far A New Concept of Frontier Decree Three of GC35 redefines frontier accord-ing to. the interpretation Pope Benedict xvI gave it in his allocution to GC35. It implies "geographical and spiritual ,places where others do not reach or find it dif-ficult to reach . The obstacles challenging those who announce the gospel are no longer seas and vast dis-tances; rather they are the boundar-ies of a superficial vision of God and of man, which place obstacles in the way of faith and human knowledge, faith and science, faith and the commitment to justice.''4 The new frontiers exist everywhere, and we are sent to the frontiers with the very concrete mission of open-ing up passes and of "building bridges" between those who live on pne side of the frontier and those who live on the other. What is more, we are asked to be our-selves "bridges in a fragmented world" (D3 17). The frontiers have to be recognized in their variety and diversity. "The frontier is everywhere--in cyber-space, in the inner space of retreats and counseling, in the depths of depression from infirmity, in the homes that have been broken by separation or misunderstand-ing, in the midst of the secularized globalized post, modern world, in old places that call for new ways of speaking God's word. It is anywhere and everywhere that the joy and peace of the Good News is still not felt. And we are asked to go there, and 'our mode of proceeding is to trace the footprints of God. know-ing that the Spirit of Christ is at work in all places Frontiers have to be recognized in their varietyand diversity: 240 Review for Religious and situations.' . . . We turn also to the 'frontier' of the earth, increasingly degraded and plundered. Here, with passion for environmental justice, we shall meet once again the Spirit of God seeking to liberate a suf-fering creation, which demands of us space to live and breathe" (D2 10&24).s On the spiritual front, particularly for Ignatian spiriZ tuality, "~e frontiers are in giving Spiritual Exercises to every kind of person. There are frontiers in constructing an I'gnatian spirituality that can energize political action and, a renewed evangelization of faithful Christians. And there are ~frontiers in places: Moscow, for instance, and the virtual place called the web. There are older fr.on-tiers too: each human hea~;t that has to decide to follow and serve Christ the ¯K' in"g6. Jesm" t s"pirituality, because it is holistic and inclusive, "sustains the Jesuit at individual and collective, personal and strg.ctural levels for collabo-ration and networking at all levels--provincial and uni-versal in an attitude of solidarity . Jesuits are invited to build a new future in Christ for a 'globalization in solidarity, a globalization without marginalization.'''7 Those who "really try to listen" to, the Spirit end up in strange, surprising places!''s Jesuit Frontiersmen ~ Since the-foundation of the Society of Jesus, Jesuits have considered themselves frontiersmen and pioneers in .the proclamation of the faith. Pope. Benedict alluded to this in his allocution: "In its history; the Society of Jesus has lived extraordinary experiences of proclama-tion and encounter between the gospel and world cul-tures- it suffices to think of Matteo Ricci in China, Roberto De Nobili in India, or the 'Reductions' in Latin America. And you are very rightly, proud of them. I feel 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 242 it is my duty today to urge you to set out once again in the tracks of your predecessors with the same cour-age and intelligence, but also with an equally profound motivation of faith and enthusiasm to serve the Lord and his church." He was echoing the words of his predecessor Pope Paul vI, who spoke of ~'crossroads" and "the front line" when he addressed GC32 in 1975: "Wherev.er in the church, even in the most difficult and exposed fields, in the Erossroads of ideologies, in the social trenches, there has been or is confrontation between the burning exigencies of humanity and the perennial message of the gospel, there have been and are the Jesuits," The Jesuit historian John O'Malley, writing about "the first Jesuits," said that their ."ministries and how they went about them were quintessential to the Jesuits' self-definition" of being frontiersmen. In their minis-tries, Jesuits excluded no person or place in the world. They operated at the edges of life: they preached, taught catechism., proposed _n_ew liturgical practices, and sought to .help orphans, prostitutes, prisoners, and people in hospitals. They were simultaneously writing plays, teaching in universities~ and acting as theologians at the Council of Trent. Within seven years of their papal approval, they founded and operated schools.9 Today our mission is to, go with both spiritual vigor and intellectual rigor to the "new frontiers" where we learn again that our "Jesuit identity [and mission] are relational; they grow in and through our diversities of culture, nationalities, and languages, enriching and chal-lenging us" (D2 19).1° In keeping with their vocation, therefore, Jesuits are sent beyond all frontiers "to serve faith, promote jus-tice, and dialogue with cultures and religions. The basis Review for Religious for reconciliation is Luke 4:18-19, which announces the good news to the poor, the release of captives, the recovery of sight by the blind, and freedom for the oppressed. In proclaiming God's message of love and compassion, Jesus crosses over physical and socio-religious frontiers. In the same manner, Jesuits are invited to preach the kingdom to those living outside their physical and spiritual frontiers: tax col-lectors; prostitutes; sin-ners; refugees; displaced; trafficked; women; chil- ,To cr, gss frontlers demands a strongfaith, courage, ,open ness others, and a willingness to take risks. dren; minorities; outcasts; indigenous peoples; victims of communal, caste, and ethnic violence; and persons of all kinds who are marginalized and excluded.''~l The frontiers are difficult and often uncomfort-able places. They provide none of the security of one's home turf and often require excursions, into unfamiliar or even uncharted territory. To cross frontiers demands a strong faith, courage, openness to others, and a will-ingness to take risks. It requires the ability to adapt the message of Christ and his church to cultural, linguistic, and religious realities that work with altogether differ-ent categories and reference points, as modeled by some of the great Jesuit missionaries of the past.~2 '.'Going to the frontiers," Father Adolfo Nicolfis pointed out, "means study, research, entering into the life of the people, soli-darity, empathy, inculturation, and respect for others. Going to the whole world turns out to be more difficult than we had thought. We feel like children. Perhaps we have discovered the kingdom of God.''~3 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far Father Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, when asked to define "catholic" by Georgetown University trustees visiting Rome in May 2007, replied, "I have always understood 'catholic' to mean bringing the experience of those at the frontiers of the church's mission back to renew the center.''14 For the effectiveness of our mission, we need to carefully "discern" the frontiers. This demands "three important qualities: creativity, daring, and great humil-ity!" according to Father Nicolfis. "Every Jesuit work, be it in justice, spirituality, educati6n, or whatever, should ask the question, 'How are we at the frontiers?'''is That is what this article addresses. The full mean-ing and scope of "frontiers" will take much research and extensive reflection. This is, then, an introductory study from three perspectives: (1) interior frontiers, which involve (2) spiritual frontiers and (3) outreach frontiers. 244 Interior Frontiers Saints have implied that the spiritual life is the adven-ture of crossing interior psychological frontiers to reach the ever expanding horizons of the soulscape. Spiritual life always involves letting go so .that, unburdened by self-seeking, one can go forward in communion with the divine. This adventure entails a striving to compre-hend "the 'breadth, and length, and depth, and height" of Christ's love (Ep 3:18). In this regard, and with regard to the papal definition, frontiers envisage inscape and landscape--the personal and the social, the vertical, horizontal, and panoramic reaches within one's power with the help of divine grace. Frontiers can envision our environs, our neighborhood--its breadth and length-- and those living on the edge or at the fringes of our neighborhood or our society. Frontiers can include depth Revieva for Religious and height, interior knowledge that grows and expands to vision and ideals, to community and commitment. As religious men and women, committed to this journey of the soul, we are called to be "bridge-builders" on all fronts. To be effective in this mission of bridging, we have to grow unceasingly in our familiarity with the "territories" at both ends, the spiritual and the worldly. "The church is in urgent need of people of solid and deep faith, of a serious culture and a genuine human and social sensitivity, of religious who devote their lives to stand on those frontiers in order to witness and help to understand that there is in fact a profound harmony between faith and reason, between evangelical spirit, thirst for justice, and action for peace.''16 This spiritual adventure has'its own thrill and attraction. With our inner vision set on new~ and farther horizons that our Lord graciously opens up for zealous seekers, the path is "straight and narrow" (Mr 7:13-14), but along it there are obstacles and frontiers. For those disposed toward Ignatian spirituality, any discussion on "frontiers, will inevitably involve the magis, the openness to being and doing more. "We must discern our mission according to the criteria of the magis and the more universal good" (D2 22). The magis challenges one toward seeking greater depth rather than wider avenues, non multa sed multum (not many but much). The spirit of the magis transforms us into fron-tier persons, desiring to find themselves called to what is greater and better. St. Ignatius, "the pilgrim," explored the dark inte-riors of the cave of his heart before he undertook the journey to Jerusalem to "save souls." His Autobiography describes how the journey inward meant resisting dev-ilish pirates and surviving death-threatening squalls in [ 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far order to cross the frontiers to peaceful havens. An exam-ple from more recent times is that of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, who indicates in her "private writings" that for the last fifty years of her life she had struggled pain-fully to feel God's presence. Through her "dark night of the soul," neverthe- The Ignatian magis brooks no comfoi't zones; it expands ou~ horizons and opens up ever-new frontiers within the heart and the world around it. less, she shone forth as an extraordinary woman of faith, who continued crossing frontiers of a more ordinary kind. The Ignatian magis brooks no comfort zones; it expands our horizons and opens up ever-new frontiers within the heart and the world around it. Only Love can satisfy our inner craving for fulfillment: Love of God, love of self, love for others. Only unconditional love breaks barriers and enables us to cross over life's various frontiers. We will reach the last frontier only when "the soul feels sat-isfied." But this will happen only with our dying breath, for, .as Augustine tells us, our hearts are resdess till they rest in God. 246 Geography of Prayer/Spiritual Frontiers To assist us in our "restless striving" to cross spir-itual frontiers, St. Ignatius has given us his Spiritual Exercises. "One tries to find one's way to the place where one desires to pray now and, when I find my way to that place, I try to stay there 'until I have been satis-fied' before moving on to a new place." This method Review for Religious applies to where I place my body (in the literal sense) and where I give my attention. This discipline of seek-ing the place of my heart's desire and trying to stay there until I have been satisfied makes a powerful disci-pline for living ordinary life as well as for finding guid-ance in prayer. A Jesuit has written: "When I pray, I pay attention to where I am (geographically, professionally, tempo-rally). I try to follow the lead of my inner disturbances (Ignatius's word for consolations or desolations), which can help me find my way to where I desire to meet, and be met by, God. If I pay attention to where I place myself in the world and where my life circumstances place me, my place in the world becomes grace for me. I can form a habit of asking whether I am called to remain in that place or whether I am called to find my way to a new place. 'Place' here can mean a given neighborhood, a particular job, a professional organization, an informal network of friends, and so forth.''~7 Familiarity with this "inner geography" helps us translate our prayer into our ministry as contemplatives in action. Hence we need to deepen our interior lives so as to better integrate our vision and mission as fron-tiersmen. Without a demanding and vigorous interior life, we allow ourselves to let go of the "contempla-. tive" side of our lives, forgetting that "in what we do in the world there must always be transparency to God" (GC35 D2 10). Without seeking and finding the paths of interiority which the Spirit of God oPens up if we are docile, we rian the risk that our apostolic generosity will wither, the meaning of our strongest commitments will become confused. Without seeking God with our inner eyes, we do not recognize how God is working in our efforts. We are likely to stop making them.~8 247 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 248 Outreach Frontiers Frontiers "beyond geographical definitions await us, 'nations' that today include those who are poor and dis-placed, those who are profoundly lonely, those who ignore God's existence, and those who use God as an instrument for political purposes. Thereare new 'nations,' and we have been sent to them (D2 22). At the frontier, then, we encounter the tragedies of poverty, hunger, thirst, pain, and death--a world in need. But this discovery need not discourage us, for we also discover that God is already there at work, and God will accompany us. Be.cause God is already there, Jesuits and their collaborators will receive new energy and new life, even when mingled with anguish where 'the Divinity'is hidden.'" 19 "Ignatius and his first companions understood the importance of reaching out to people on the frontiers and at the center of society, of reconciling those who were estranged in any way. From the center in Rome, Ignatius sent Jesuits to the frontiers, to th~ new world, 'to announce the Lord to peoples and cultures that did not know him as yet.' He sent Xavier to the Indies. Thousands of Jesuits followed, preaching the gospel to many cultures, sharing knowledge with and learning from others. He also wanted Jesuits to cross other types of frontiers between rich and poor, between educated and unlearned. He wrote a letter to the Jesuits at the Council of Trent on how to behave, and insisted that they should minister to the sick. Jesuits opened colleges in Rome and in the great cities, of Europe, and they taught children in villages across the world" (D3 15). The metaphor of bridge-building is used often' in D3, "signaling a desire to link thoroughgoing incul, turation to a commitment to dialogue. The.strategy proposed is clear: Go to the frontiers, immerse your- Review for Religious selves in the cultures you encounter, and share in the conversation. These orientations are to drive Jesuit and Ignatian activity in the postmodern era.''2° "This tradition of Jesuits building bridges across frontiers becomes crucial in the context of today's world. We become able to bridge the divisions of a fragmented world only if we remember and live from three Ignatian principles: the love of God our Lord, the union of minds and hearts reflected in the personal bond of Francis Xavier and Ignatius across the seas, and the obedience that sends each one of us in mission to any part of this world" (D3 17). The "universal mission" of the Society of Jesus flows from Ignatius's vision at La Storta. He would "deploy Jesuits in a wide variety of apostolic ministries around the world. Jesuits were to go where the need was great-est, other religious were not already there, the good to be achieved was wide and deep, and their service would better society0while giving glory to God (see Constitutions SJ §622).''2~ Christ-centered Many tasks may call on us urgently, but we know that it is not only urgent tasks that define the Society's missions: "it is Christ's mission, of which we desire to be the servants, that is our urgency.''z2 Pope Benedict, in his recent encyclical Caritas in veritate (§20) empha-sized this IZhristic orientation behind all human endeav-ors toward social change for a better world: It is Christ's charity that drives us on: "caritas Christi urget nos" (2 Co 5:14). The urgency is inscribed not only in things, it is not derived solely from the rapid succession of events ahd problems, but also from the very matter that is at stake: the establishment of authen- [249 69.3 2010 Lewis * Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far Our o treach programs must begin from the heart, tic fraternity. The importance of this goal is such as to demand our openness to understand it in depth and to mobilize ourselves at the level of the "heart," so as to ensure that current economic and social processes evolve towards fully human outcomes. Our outreach programs, then, must begin, from the heart._ This demands that we be person-centered rather than project-oriented. Our service must touch hearts. In this outreach we will encounter personal and social frontiers, as" Christ did, but we must cross them all to get to people's hearts; for the kingdom, coming from within God's heart, is within. "The crossing of frontiers is a larger human experi-ence and is not only a matter of religious frontiers. An open church willing to relate to the world, the larger society, and many types of identities will increasingly face the question of how to go about the reality of frontiers. It is the modern version of the question of love of neighbor . Traditional Christian rec-onciliation has to express itself today in the way we face complicated frontiers and boundaries and how we cross over and reach out. :. By negotiating the frontiers and communing across them, Christians will continuously discover new dimensions of their own faith identity. ¯ Much of the Christian future lies on the periphery, in the frontier-zones. Encounter with new identities need not signify a threat to a church that understands itself as universal because it is a communion in difference.''23 "Jesus, in his outreach, embraced difference and new horizons. His ministry transcended boundaries. Review for Religious He invited his disciples to be aware of God's action in places and people they were inclined to avoid: Zacchaeus, a Syro-Phoenician woman, Roman centurions, a repen-tant thief. As water bringing life to all who thirst, he showed himself interested in every parched area of the world; and in every parched area of the world he can thus be welcomed, for all who are thirsty can understand what living water means. This image of living water can give life to all Jesuits as servants of Christ in his mission because, having tasted this water themselves, they will be eager to offer it to anyone who thirsts and to reach out to people beyond frontiers--where water may not yet have welled up--to bring a new culture of dialogue to a rich, diverse, and multifaceted world" (D2 12). The Gospels offer a vivid insight into Christ's modus operandi in his healing ministry. "Look at any healing story: the way Jesus heals the paralyzed man brought in by his friends through the roof; the leper; the woman with the issue of blood. Jesus first responds to a concrete, immediate need: the healing of a sickness. But then he goes on to respond to a deeper need: the burden of guilt or the sense of hopelessness or rejec-tion and isolation. Finally he goes deeper still and offers what they long for most, often without knowing it: the gift of the kingdom of God, of friendship with a God of unconditional love, in a way that transforms them at the core of their persons.''24 "In proclaiming God's message of love and com-passion, Jesus crossed over physical and socioreligious frontiers. His message of reconciliation was preached both to the people of Israel and to those living outside its physical and spiritual frontiers: tax collectors, prostitutes, sinners, and persons of all kinds who are marginalized and excluded. His ministry of reconciliation with God 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far and with one another knew no boundaries. He spoke to the powerful, challenging them to a change of heart. He showed special love for the sinner, the poor widow, and the lost sheep. The kingdom of God which he constantly preached became a vision for a world where all relation-ships are reconciled in God. Jesus confronted the powers that oppose this kingdom, and that opposition led him to death on the cross, a death which he freely accepted in keeping with his mission. On the cross we see all his words and actions revealed as expressions of the final reconciliation effected by the Crucified and Risen Lord, through whom comes the new creation in which all rela-tionships will be set right in God" (D3 14). Words from the Heart We often fall short of being imitators of Christ in our frontier ministries. Our very words betray our attitudes: we "plan," "coordinate," "organize," mostly at the head level. "These are organizational verbs, very important, necessary for moving ahead," Father Adolfo Nicolfis noted. He added that in contrast, when Jesus commis-sioned his disciples to ministry, his words revealed the heart of it. He used "verbs of life, verbs of giving life": preach the gospel to the poor, heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, expel demons, raise the dead. This clearly indicates that "the mission of God in Jesus, the business he is about, is making life flow more abundantly for humanity wherever it is lacking or blocked. And the real secret of mission is not to get rid' of the organizational verbs or the gospel verbs, but to somehow make the organizational actions that we have to perform expres-sions of the life-giving actions of the gospel.''2s Words are symbolic. When we set out with the mindset of Christ to discern "how we are at the fron- Review for Re.ligious tiers," is our definitiofi of "frontiers" congru.ent with that of the Church and the Socie,ty? Does the spirit of the magis urge us to seek and find God's presence everywhere--across the frontiers, deep and high, near and far? Notes 1 Adolfo Nicolas sJ, "Challenges and Issues in Jesuit Education," keynote address on the 150th anniversary of Jesuit education in the Philippines, Ateneo de Manila University, 13 July 2009. 2 Elliott West, Frontier, Grolier Online. 3 Marcos Recolons SJ, "What's New in the Decree on Mission?" Promotio Iustitiae 98-99 (2008/1): 18. 4 Pope Benedict XVI, allocution to the delegates of GC35, 21 February 2008. s Josd C.J. Magadia SJ, homily for the celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the Philippine Province, 27 July 2008. 6 Joseph Tetlow SJ, "At the Frontiers," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 95 (2000): 17. 7 Joseph Marianus Kuiur SJ, "Sent to the Frontiers--Decree on Mission," Jivan (August 2008): 4-6. s Nicol~is, "Challenges and Issues." 9 John O'Malley sJ, The First Jesuits (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), pp. 3 and 18. 10 Paul L. Locatelli SJ, "To Be Sent: Mission, Frontiers, and Contemplative Action," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 119 (2008/3): 27. 1~ Kuiur, "Sent to the Frontiers." 12 Len Altilia SJ, "The Inspiration for Frontiers," Frontiers 1, no. 1, online. 13 John Borelli SJ, "Frontiers of Dialogue for Discovery and Renewal," National Jesuit News (November 2008). 14 Borelli, "Frontiers of Dialogue." ~s Adolfo Nicolas SJ, "Jesuit Mission Today," address to Jesuits and friends at Gonzaga College, Ireland, 12 September 2009. 16 Pope Benedict XVI, allocution. 17 John Staudenmaier sJ "The Inner Geography of Prayer in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius," UDMcasts on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, The University of Detroit Mercy, Detroit, 7 March 2007. 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 18 Franqois-Xavier Dumortier SJ, "The Same Path as Ignatius," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 119 (2008). , ,9 Locatelli, "To ~Be Sent," p. 33. 20 Adria~ Lyons SJ, "From Centre to Frontiers," Province Express, Australia, 28 May 2008. 21 Locatelli, "To Be Sent," p. 27. 22 Dumortier, "The Same Path." 23 Felix Wilfred, "Introduction: The Art of Negotiating the Frontiers," Concilium, 1999/2. 24 Nicokis, "Challenges and Issues." 2s Nicolfis, "Challenges and Issues." Equinox 254 I was once certain of so many things Certain of light and dark life and death f!'lled and empty hatred and love I was once certain of so many things But grief broke me open and they tumbled out as one jumbled mess Certainty tumbled out among them. Kathleen Atkinson OSB Review for Religious JUDITH METZ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross In the back flyleaf of her prayer book, Elizabeth Bayley Seton wrote a modification of the Anima Christi: Soul of Jesus sanctify me Blood of Jesus wash me Passion of Jesus comfort me Wounds of Jesus hide me Heart of Jesus receive me Spirit of Jesus enliven me Goodness of Jesus pardon me Beauty of Jesus draw me Humility of Jesus humble me Peace of Jesus pacify me Love of Jesus inflame me Kingdom of Jesus come to me Grace of Jesus replenish me Mercy of Jesus pity me Sanctity of Jesus sanctify me Purity of Jesus purify me Cross of Jesus support me Judith Metz SC is the archivist and historian for the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati. Her address is 5900 Delhi Road; Mount St. Joseph, Ohio 45051. models of spirituality. 69.3 2010 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross Nails of Jesus hold me in life, in death - in time and Eternity - in the hour of Death defend me, call me to come to thee, receive me with thy Saints in glory everlasting.I Elizabeth loved this prayer, writing several paraphrases of it as she contemplated at various times the outpour-ing of Jesus' love in his suffering and death. From when she was young, her spirituality found a focus in his love, shown in his giving of himself, in his willingness to suf-fer for us--and in her wish to return this love. Her father gave her a cross which she often wore, remarking that she loved it "as the mark of my Captain and Master whom I was to follow so valiantly" (3a:514). There are many references in her letters and journals to this cross, such as: "looked at my crucifix"; "Calvary is the rendezvous"; "we must be crucified." As she was nursing her dying husband, she wrote: "Not only willing to take up my cross but kissed it too" (l:257).During a tumultuous time after her return to New York, Elizabeth observed: "When people say 'so much trouble has turned her br~in' - well, I kiss my crucifix, which I have loved for so many years, and say 'they are only mistaken'" (1:401). People sometimes comment that they find little affinity with St. Elizabeth Seton because her spirituality seems negative. For them she dwells so much on suf-fering and the cross--on joy at embracing hardship in imitation of Jesus--that her spirituality does not attract them. ~ Yet the imitation of Christ must be the center of every Christian life. Holy people through the ages have shown us by their lives that the more people recognize God's outpouring love, demonstrated by Christ's sacri-fice on the cross, the more they need to imitate that self-giving love: "If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, Review for Religious let him renounce himself and take up his cross and fol-. low me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but :anyone who loses his life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it" (Mk 8:34-35). Although Ignatius Loyola did not write the Anima Christi, which we have already reflected on, he placed it at the beginning of his Spiritual Exercises and often referred to it. And he did write the Suscipe that most of us are familiar with: ."Take, Lord, ~ receive all my liberty, my mem-ory, my understanding, my entire will; all that I have and possess." In her lnterior Castle, Teresa of Avila observed: "His Majesty could not grant us a greater favor than to give us a life that would be an imitation of the life his beloved Son lived. Thus I hold for certain that these favors are meant to fortify our weakness., that we may be able to imitate him in his great sufferings." Like these great saints, Elizabeth Seton was also com-mitted to living in imitation of Jesus. She wrote in her Journal: "The cup which our Father has given Us, shall we not drink it? Blessed Savior, by the bitterness of thy pains We may estimate the force of thy love . . . and therefore, if thou so ordainest it, welcome disappointment and pov-erty; welcome sickness and pain -welcome even shame, and contempt, and calumny. If this be a rough and thorny path, it is one which thou hast gone before us. Where we see thy footsteps we cannot repine" (3b:21). Elizabeth was able to enter into Jesus' life, to expe-rience his outpouring love in the events of the passion narratives, in a way that made them very real and rele-vant to her life. She recognized that Christ's story was her Elizabeth Seton was O mitted t0 living in ,imitation of ]esus: 69.3 2010 258 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton °s Spirituality of the Cross story. Her part was to enter into her own life and joyfully embrace the cross as a way of being in union with her beloved. She experienced overwhelming gratitude at what Christ had done for her, and she knew that her response must be to "drink the cup" and be "baptized with the baptism" of which Jesus spoke. This spirituality of hers permeated her prayer and supported her through many difficult times. One of these was the month she spent in the lazaretto with her desper-ately ill husband and young daughter upon their arrival at Livorno, Italy, in November 1803. She described the experience to her dearly loved sister-in-law Rebecca Seton: "You could not rest in your bed if you saw [me] as [I am] sitting in one corner of an immense Prison bolted in and barred with as much ceremony as any monster of mischief might be - a single window double grated with iron thro' which, if I should want anything, I am to call a sentinel, with a fierce cocked hat, and long rifle gun." "On the ship-mattresses spread on the cool floor my Willy and Anna are sound asleep, and I ~trust that God, who has given him strength through a day of such exertion will carry us on - He is our all indeed -. God is with us - and if sufferings abound in us,his consolations also greatly abound, and far exceed all utterance." "What shall we say - this is the hour of trial, the Lord support and strengthen us in it. Retrospections being anguish - press forward toward the mark and prize" (1:251,253,254). As the Setons passed their weeks, of quarantine, Elizabeth strove to keep her equilibrium by prayer and her "hidden Treasures,;--her Bible, commentaries, ser-mons, and The Imitation of Christ ~that she had carried with her from New York. She poured out her heart in her Journal, where she lamented time and again how she "read, prayed, we.pt, and prayed again" (1:256,257,265). Review for Religious But as she contemplated her situation she was also able to note: "Not only willing to take up my cross but kissed it too . I find my present opportunity a Treasure - and my confinement of Body a liberty of Soul which I may never again enjoy whilst they are united . If I could forget my God one moment at this time I should go mad -but he hushes all - Be still and know that I am God your Father" (1:257,258). With the passing days William Seton's health con-tinued to worsen so that by 5 December a doctor was called. Though he feared that Elizabeth's beloved hus-band "might be gone in a few hours," he continued to hold on. On 14 December, Elizabeth wrote: "The damp-ness about us would be thought dangerous for a pdrson in health, and my W's sufferings - Oh well I know that God is above. Capitano,. if I thought our condition the providence of man, instead of the 'weeping Magdalene' as you so graciously call me, you would find me a lioness willing to burn your Lazaretto about your ears . But O my Heavenly Father I know that these contradictory events are permitted and guided by thy Wisdom, which only is light" (1:270,271). Released from their confinement on 19 December, the lit-de family traveled to lodgings in Pisa. On Chrisunas Day Elizabeth put a little wine in a glass and said differ-ent portions of psalms and prayers which she had marked in her books, hoping for a happy moment. "We took the cup of Thanksgiving setting aside the sorrow of time, in the views of the joy of Eternity," she noted (1:273). Elizabeth then began the deathbed vigil that ended two days later. She recorded, "On Tuesday morning 27th December - [William's] soul was released - and mine from a struggle next to death." She continued, "In all this it is not necessary to dwell on the mercy and consoling 69.3 2010 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of tbe Cross 260 presence of my dear Redeemer, for no mortal strength could support what I experienced" (1:274,275). The tears, prayers, and anguish Elizabeth suffered during her long watch with her sick and dying husbandincreased her trust in God and led her to a deeper identification with her suffering Savior. Her experiences became a part of her spirituality. Her continued trust in Divine Providence during her remaining time in Italy led her along paths that she could not have imagined. Impressed with the Catholic faith and practices of her Italian hosts, the Episcopalian Elizabeth entered into a long and anguished discernment over whether to remain in the church of her birth or to join the Catholic Church. For nearly a year she considered the argu-ments on each side, trying to listen to the voice of God. Longing for support and advice, she wrote to her Italian friend Antonio Filicchi: "Judge of my disappointment when only a few lines [from you] rewarded my anxious anticipations - however, at. the foot of my cross I found consolation, and kissing it over and over I repeated and repeat, there only I am never disappointed" (1:326). Elizabeth's uncertainty seemed to grow through the months, and she wrote of being "half dead with the inward struggle" (1:372). Yet, she confided to Antonio, "when some hours of consolation come, I think 'hard as the trial is, yet it is sweet' - I never knew till now what prayer is - never thought of fasting - though now it is more a habit than eating, never knew how to give up all, and send my spirit to mount Calvary, nor how to con-sole and delight it in the society of angels - 'Patience,' says my soul, 'He will not let you and your little ones perish, and if yet your life is given in the conflict, at the last he will nail all to his cross and receive you to his mercy'" (1:339). Review for Religious Elizabeth's decision to join the Catholic Church gained her inner peace and certitude, but led, as she later recorded, to "most painful remembrances now - yet grateful for the order of our Grace, so evident through all" (3a:519). The three years that she remained in New York after her conversion were difficult and gave her ample opportunity to share in the sufferings of Christ. Anti-Catholic sentiment made it hard for her to support her children and deprived her of much that her friends and family had provided. Her choice also occasioned some other troubles. Her two youngest Seton sisters-in-law, Harriet and Cecilia, and their cousin Eliza Farquhar were drawn to Elizabeth's Catholic fervor. When family members expressed disapproval, Cecilia's enthusiasm only grew stronger. Having been raised by Elizabeth from age seven, this young woman felt close bonds that were' strengthened by their shared desire for a devout living of their Christian faith. As she was. departing for Italy, Elizabeth had cau-tioned he.r young prot~g& "If you find that there are any obstacles in.your way, and doubtless you will find many as every Christian does in the fulfillment of his duty, still Persevere with yet more earnestness, and rejoice to bear your share in the Cross which is Our Passport and Seal to the Kingdom of our Redeemer" (1:224). Now, as Cecilia adamantly pursued the course of following Elizabeth into the Catholic Church, the younger woman met with severe opposition and even threats from her family. Elizabeth supported her as best she could, writing on Christmas Eve 1805: "My dear dear child I beg, beseech, implore you, to offer up all your pains, your Sorrows, and vexations to God that he will unite them with the Sorrows, the pangs and anguish which Our adored Redeemer bore for us on the Cross 261 69.3 2010 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of tbe Cross "Dwelling under :the Shadow of His Cross we will cheerfully gather the thorns which will be t~urned hereafter into a joyful crown" 262] - place yourself in spirit at the foot of that cross, and entreat that a drop of that precious blood there shed may fall on you to enlighten strengthen and support your Soul in this life and ensure its eternal Salvation in the next" (1:398). When Cecilia joined the Catholic Church, a violent storm broke in the extended Seton family. For a time she was confined to her room, threats were made to send her to the West Indies, and even to burn Elizabeth's house down over her head. Eventually the new convert tied her clothes up in a bundle and went to liv~ with Elizabeth for a time.2 During Cecilia's period of trial Elizabeth kept a daily spiritual jour-nal. In it she shared her own prayer expe-riences, along with offering counsel, and encouragement. In one entry she noted: "Pain and Resignation instead of the Treasure [Eucharist] this day -but He is then most near - while Weeping under his Cross we are there content to stay" (1:470). In another, Elizabeth encouraged her young relative: "May we never leave the sheltering wing, but dwelling under the Shadow of His Cross we will cheer-fully gather the thorns which will be turned hereafter into a joyful crown" (1:473). When Elizabeth Seton made the decision to move her family to Baltimore in spring 1808, her only hesi-tation was leaving her young relative and confidante behind in New York. Cecilia wanted to accompany Review for Religious Elizabeth but also felt an obligation to care for her brother James's children. Elizabeth missed Cecilia terribly and buoyed her-self with the thought that "there is no distance for souls united as ours" (2:6). During the year the two were sepa-rated, Cecilia continued to face difficulties and obsta-cles to her hopes of joining her beloved "Sister," as she referred to Elizabeth, while Elizabeth was peaceful and delighted with her new situation. In this light Elizabeth wrote to her "most precious child": "It is poor Sister who must beg you to pray for her --I am at rest my darling while you are mounting the heights of Sion - often too I sleep in the Garden, while you are sharing the bitter cup, but it is not to be so for long, his mercies are end-less and I shall not be left without my portion" (2:21). The two were joyfully reunited in June 1809 when Cecilia arrived in Maryland with plans to join the newly forming community of the Sisters of Charity. She enthu- ¯ siastically plunged into this new life, but her delicate health continued to decline. By early 1810 Elizabeth wrote to her friend Eliza Sadler: "My heart faints when I think of this separation. No one can conceive of.what she is to me - but - but-fiat" (2:111).,,Cecilia died of tuberculosis within several months, having well learned the spiritual lessons offered by suffering., ,As Cecilia Seton passed from Elizabeth's life, another Cecilia became an intimate companion. Cecilia O'Conway, a young woman from Philadelphia, was planning to travel to Europe to become a nun. Instead, On the recommendation of her. priest-director, she became the first woman to join Elizabeth at her school in Baltimore~ These two women shared many of the same spiritual goals and became friends almost .at once. Cecilia was enthusiastic about becoming a Sister of 69.3 2010 Metz * Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross Charity, and through the trials of the early years offered loving support to Elizabeth, who referred to her friend as "the angel of the Community. a true. and solid comfort" (2:141). Cecilia was indeed a true comfort as Elizabeth struggled through the difficulties of establish-ing a religious community and bore the sorrov¢ of'the deaths of two of her daughters. In August 1817 the two women were separated when Cecilia was amongthe first sisters sent to take charge 6f the .Catholic orphafi asylum in New York City. She was not happy to be separated from Elizabeth or to be thrust into the bustle of city life. But her spiritual mother chal-lenged her: "My own Cecilia - going on her heavenly errand and to crucify Self- . . . if you suffer, so much the better for our high journey above - the only fear I have is that you will let the old string pull too hard for solitude and silence, but look to the Kingdom of souls -, . this is not a country, my dear one, for Solitude and Silence, but of warfare and crucifixion- You are not to stay in his silent agonies of the garden at night, but go from post to pillar to the very fastening on the cross and mind, my lady, how you dare glahce a thought at pull-ing out a nail which he put in with my hand, while his own so dear will hammer it up to the very head I expect - I beg him with a mother's agony to do it softly and tenderly - would wish so to hold your dear head while he does it, but he answers, 'no one held his'., but yet he will hold it himself supporting with one hand, and fastening with the other" (2i498-499). During Cecilia's years in New York, she and Elizabeth maintained a lively correspondence .chal-lenging each other to an ever deeper union with their Redeemer. In their letters they exhorted each other to accept the sufferings, both physical and emotional, that R~view for Religious they were experiencing, and to receive them in the spirit of participating in the Lord's passion. "May you enjoy true peace in Him who has nailed us," Elizabeth wrote; "I would not pull the smallest nail out for a thousand worlds" (2:682). In her newsy letters Elizabeth kept Cecilia apprised of her declining health, telling her in July 1818, "I have no symptoms now of hastening Death as when I wrote you [earlier] - slow, slow and sure" (2:569). A few months later Elizabeth reminded her spiritual daughter of "how little is all that passes with this life . therefore we must be so careful to meet our grace," She then contin-ued: "Isaac come forth - the wood and fire are here, let not the Victim be wanting" (2:595). And the following month Elizabeth urged the younger woman to "take the abundant sweet heavenly grace from day to day, only seeking and seeing him in all our little duties . . . and taking from. the hands of all around us every daily cross and trial as if he gave it himself" (2:600). After two years in New York, Cecilia returned to the motherhouse in Emmitsburg, where she could again share her days with her beloved friend. With Elizabeth's health continuing to decline, Cecilia became one of her nurses. Staying close by her bed, she made sure Elizabeth had a crucifix available to assist her prayer, and she was present among the mourners when Elizabeth's last hour arrived. Am6ng EliEabeth's writings meditation on "the communion lof the cross." 69.3 2010 Metz * Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross 266 Among Elizabeth's writings is a meditation on "the communion of the cross." In it she speaks of "the hap-piness of receiving our Lord and Savior in the holy Eucharist," yet points out that "we also receive him by the communion of his cross." "So," she continues, "when he invites us to come and receive him in afflic-tions' and sufferings, we should receive his chalice with the same ardor, and drink his Blood by faith . The great advantage of the communion of the cross is that we receive it when our Lord himself pleases and at the time he sees best." "Unhappily," she reflects, "we are. apt to think the very least suffering is too much, because we are lovers with our lips rather than our heart, while the true lover of Christ can never have enough of his cross." "All he asks of us is our good Will," but we. also "should bring the burning fire of love and gratitude" (3a:419-422). Elizabeth's burning love of God and desire to imi-tate Jesus was something that grew within her as she matured through her life. It gave her a deep insight into the necessity of losing herself in order to gain union with God: She understood, as had many holy women and men before her, that she was invited to emulate Jesus' self-giving love - that "the true lover of Christ can never have enough of his cross," and as they, carry the cross they "should bring the burning fire of love and gratitude." ~ The spirituality of the cross has been part of the Christian message from the time Jesus taught on this earth. Great saints, theologians, and spiritual guides through the centuries have stressed this same message. Today's Christian leaders continue to stress, as essential of our spirituality, our participation in Jesus' self-giving love, The German theologian Jiirgen Moltmann sees a kind of alchemy of Review for Religious love, where all the negativity and suffering of the world is touched by God and transformed into the victory of life.3 Johannes Metz, in his classic Poverty of Spirit, writes: "The legacy of God's total commiunent to humankind, the proof of God's fidelity to our poverty, is the cross [and] no one is exempted from the poverty of the cross.''4 Jessica Powers, in her poem "The Sign of the Cross," offers this same wisdom:5 The lovers of Christ lift out their hands to the great gift of suffering. For how could they seek to be warmed and clothed and delicately fed, when He the worthy went forth, wounded and hated, and grudged of even a place to lay His head? This is the badge of the friends of the Man of Sorrows: the mark of the cross, faint replica of His. Choose it, my heart. It is a beautiful sign. Notes ~ Regina Bechtle SC and Judith Metz SC, Elizabeth Barley Seton: Collected Writings, 4 vols. (New York: New City Press, 2000, 2002, 2006), vol. 3, part 2, pp. 74-75, hereafter cited in parentheses, thus: (3b:74-75). 2 Annabelle Melville, Elizabeth Barley Seton (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1951), p. 119. 3 Jiirgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, as described in Elizabeth Johnson, Consider Jesus: Waves of Renewal in Christology (New York: Crossroad, 1990), p. 121. 4 Johannes B. Metz, Poverty of Spirit (New York, Paulist Press, 1968), pp. 19-20. ~ Regina Siegfried ASC and Robert E Morneau, Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers (Kansas City: Sheed and Ward, 1989), p. 150. 267 69.3 2010 AVIS CLENDENEN A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 2,68 Lheard a story a few years ago that got into the arrow of my bones and became a "dangerous memory." This term was coined by Johann Baptist Metz, who described it as an earlier experience breaking into our present lives and revealing new and provocative insights for the future. Such a breakthrough casts light on the deceptive nature of something we considered an evident good. It is a dangerous and incalculable visitant from the past. This memory has future content,~ The memory I wish to share is a story told by Sister of Mercy Betty Barrett on the occasion of her sixtieth jubilee as a vowed religious. Sister Betty Barrett entered the congregation in 1945. She devoted most of her ministerial life to education, becoming the president of Saint Xavier College in Chicago in the turbulent 1960s. In 1966 she supported an innovative idea to invite major Avis Clendenen most recently wrote for us in 2008. She is pro-fessor of religious studies and the Sister Irene Dugan RC Scholar in Spirituality at Saint Xavier University; 3700 West 103rd Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Review for Religious theological architects of the Second Vatican Council to the college for the inaugural symposium of the newly formed Pope John xxIII Institute. The tag line of the John xx]II Institute quoted John xxJII's call "to dedicate ourselves to that work which our era demands of us. ¯ remembering we are not on earth to guard a museum, but to cultivate a flourishing garden of life." . Imagine this small U.S. women's Catholic college thinking itself capable of hosting at one symposium Yves Congar, Jean Dani61ou, Charles Davis, Henri de Lubac, Johann Baptist Metz, John Courtney Murray, Edward Schillebeeckx, Karl Rahner, and others as well. The European theologians would for the first time bring the insights of the council documents to North America. For some, this would be their ~first trip to the United States. They all came. This gathering is exactly what President Sister Betty Barrett accomplished in early 1966, only four months after the council's close.2 The formation of the John xxlII Institute and the plan for the symposium became controversial. Archbishop John Cody of Chicago expressed reserva-tions about the symposium. He wrote to Sister Betty saying that such a gathering of theologians did not coin-cide with his norm for theological activities. He then issued a public decree that all ecclesiastical entities in the archdiocese must first obtain certification of cre-dentials from him before inviting to Chicago any priest from outside the archdiocese. All the council theologians invited were priest-theologians. The situation became an international story that saw the canonical authority of the local bishop as opposing academic freedom in institutions of higher education. The American press described the symposium, which drew more than three thousand participants to the little-known campus, as "an 269 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 270 event of unprecedented proportions," "an intellectual feast," and "a complex and strange event in the history of Catholic colleges at that time in North America." Interesting as it is, this event is not the key story of this essay. It is background for discussing the matter of dangerous memory. Sister Betty saw.the Second Vatican Council as Pope John xxIII did. She saw that aggiornamento was intimately tied,to justice and peace. While president, she became the first woman religious to be named to the Illinois Human Relations Commission. After her presidency she continued to advance the vision and mis-sion of ecclesial renewal and the claims of the social gospel through a variety of positions such as her min-istry with the Eighth Day Center for Justice and the Catholic Interracial Council. In her seventies she went to Central America to work with the poor, Though she tried desperately, she never learned Spanish well enough to speak or truly understand it. In her eighties she was asked at her sixtieth jubilee in April 2003 to share memories with those gathered to celebrate with her~ I shall paraphrase Sister Betty but speak for her in the first person. You know that when I went to Central America I could not speak the language of the people. You know I hold degrees of all kinds and functioned at a tremendous level of responsibility for many years while in the ministry of higher education. Yet, even after years and years of living among these beautiful people and interacting with them every day, I never managed to speak with them in their native tongue. So I was forced, so to speak, to plumb new depths of human communica-tion. While there, I came to realize that "being Review for Religious there"--presence--is what is most important in our ministry. Presence conveys a meaning that tran-scends even the need for words. This I learned very late in my ministerial life. Honoring this jubilee year of mine and know-ing that my ability to travel would only continue to diminish, the community offered me airfare to travel a last time to Honduras to see my friends. So a few weeks ago I took that trip. I went to the home of a family with whom I had been present during moments of joy and pain in their lives over a span of years. I walked into their humble living room and noticed something. There on the wall surround-ing the crucifix, were four pictures, each rever-ently hung near the cross. There was, of course, a picture 6f Our Lady of Guadalupe; a picture of Mother Catherine McAuley, the founder of the Sisters of Mercy; a picture of Archbishop Oscar Romero; and . a picture of me! What can I say to you about that moment in my life? Seeing the cross and our Lady, seeing that this family was so deeply touched by the min-istries of the Sisters of Mercy that they placed a portrait of a !9th century Irish woman near their own beloved Oscar Romero--and then to see my picture in that company! It was a moment of abject'humility, wonder, awe, an'd gratitude I will never forget. I could never really talk with them the way I am talking with you now, yet I was present to them over the long haul of many years. I share this story with you as an act of gratitude and humility for the gift of these sixty years of ser- 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Faring Myth 272] vice, and as a testimony of wonder to 'a God who can do more in us than we can "ask or imagine" (Ep 3:20). I was mesmerized by her tale. In hearing it, my own consciousness was altered forever about ministry and mystery, about growing old yet remaining ever new, and about the lost art of humility. I recognized her story from'the past as a memory bearing future content. This elegantly simple parable resounded in me, taking on the force of a great myth; it became part of the life I desire. I say this not with any intention to mimic her experience, but in the inspiring hope of living the nearly lost art of humility. Sister Betty told a little tale about one family, and they--all unaware--became a dangerous memory precisely because she knew her telling it could break into the present moment and bring us new and danger-ous insights. Such lives disrupt self-interest and ambition by being a vivid picture of largeness of mind and heart, which our noisy egos often do not notice. The mythic story of this elderly nun speaks :to the truth of the poet Mary Oliver's words: What I loved in the beginning, I think, was mosdy myself. Never mind that I had to,. since somebody had to. o That was many years ago. Since then I have gone out from my confinement~s, though with difficulty. And I have l~ecome the child of the clouds, and of hope. I have become the friend of the enemy, whoever that is. I have become older and, cherishing what I have learned, I have become younger. And what do. I risk to tell you this, which is all I know? Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.3 Review for Religious Living in an Age of Entitlement That last line is not an easy task in today's world. More than a decade ago I read, "The narcissistic per-sonality has become the most prominent~ personality type in the Western world.''4 At that time the statement caught me up short. Now I find it the lens through which I view the world I inhabit. In their new book The Narcissism Epidemic: Living in the Age of Entitlement (2009), the psychologists Jean Twenge and W. Keith Campbell have documented and analyzed the troubling cultural trends of the past three decades. They suggest that North American culture itself is in the grip of a narcissism epidemic. According to Theodore Millon, professor of psychiatry at Harvard University, profes-sor of psychology at Miami University, and leading authority on personality disorders, "the label narcissism connotes more than .mere egocentricity. Narcissism sig-nifies, more specifically, that these individuals overvalue their personal worth, direct their affections toward themselves rather than others, and expect that others will recognize their unique and special value.''5 While I hesitate to labor the point, I think the fol-lowing list of traits and behavioral tendencies of the narcissistic personality can give us pause, in which to examine human consciousness. Those leaning toward narcissism tend ¯ To grandiosity, haughtiness, snobbishness, arrogance; ¯ To feelings of entitlement; praise for performance; ¯ To exploitation of and insensitivity toward others; ¯ To crave attention, which they see as deserved without need for reciprocity; ¯ To flout conventional rules and expectations of shared social living; 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare I-Iumili~y and a Future-Facing ~4yth ¯ To assume and often find that others feel hon-ored by their relationship, or to quickly train others to admire and obey them, with the result that the admirers insulate, them from self-aware hess of their limitations; ¯ To idealize those who satisfy their needs while treating contemptuously those who do not; the shifting of overvaluation to denigration occurs frequently in the same relationship; ¯ To preoccupation with personal adequacy, . power, prestige, and status; ¯ To heightened sensitivity to any form of criticism; ¯ To intolerance of perceived affronts to self-esteem that question their assumed inherent specialness; ¯ To take liberties with facts by embellishing them to maintain illusion of self-worth; ¯ To exaggerate abilities and accomplishments; to inflate and justify what they feel is due them, while depreciating those who refuse to accept or enhance their self-image; ¯ To use rationalization as a regulatorymechanism to cope with the inevitable personal failures or social humiliations by devising plausible reasons for self-justification and doing so with litde con-cern for others; and ¯ To lack interpersonal empathy.6 This detailed list of a narcissistic character is now embedded in the general population (and culture) where once such a description of human personality would have qualified as clinical narcissistic disorder. Ttie ethos of selfishness, individualism, utilitarianism, and instru-mentalism is taken for granted, not seen as problematic, and thus often remains unexamined. In turn, the values of community, altruism, and the life of the virtues are Review for Religious being undermined. A few years ago I heard the coor-dinator of the Jesuit Volunteers report that there was a lot of interest among young people who wanted to serve on their own terms. He referred to this as narclsslsnc idealism." According to Twenge and Campbell, no single event initiated the epidemic; instead, the values deep in the American psyche shifted Slowly toward individu- ~ alism, self-admiration, materialism, incivility, and entitlement. "Like a disease," they write, "narcissism is caused by certain factors, spreads through particular chan-nels, appears as various ~ ~ ~' symptoms, and might be ° - halted by preventive measures and cures. Narcissism is a psych0-cultural affliction rather than a physical disease, but the model works remarkably well.''7 Six years before The Narcissism Epidemic, Dr. ,Robert Moore, professor of psychoanalysis, culture, and spiritu-ality at Chicago Theological Seminary, in his book Facing the Dragon: Confronting Personal and Spiritual Grandiosity, announced the new contemporary crisis as "the epidemic of unregulated human grandiosity." Grandiosity refers to holding fantasies or embracing desires that are greater than your real life can support. According to Moore, either grandiosity makes you manic in running around to meet unrealistic demands or makes you depressed because your desires are essentially unachievable. Moore rallies our intellects and emotions to break through the existential denial of our "naive male" and "naive female" ,Cultural narcissism is d estructively shaping a :collusive and self-promoting ' way of livi g: 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 276] approach to the human situation by courageously con-fronting the aggressive cultural selling of pathological narcissism as a normative vision for human life.s The Narcissism Epidemic is replete with examples that reveal how cultural narcissism is destructively shaping a collusive and self-promoting way of living. In a chapter tided "Superspreaders!" they tell a tale from the televi-sion series "My Super Sweet 16": "Atlanta teen Allison tells a party planner she wants to block off part of Peachtree Street so there can be a parade for 'my grand entrance.' Peachtree is a major thoroughfare, the plan-ner reminds her. She responds, 'My sweet 16 is more important than wherever they have to be.' But there's a hospital across the street, the planner cautions--what if an ambulance can't get to the hospital? 'They can wait one second. Or they can go around,' she says cavalierly. Amid all of this, Allison's mother just listens. When the planner finally turns to her in exasperation, she says, 'If Allison wants it, make it happen.' So much for that dying person in the ambulance." The narcissistic "enti-dement" expressed here by the mother points to the odd perpetual adolescence of many American adults. Twenge and Campbell say that adolescence, the most narcissis-tic time of life, is being extended beyond all previous limits.9 Clearly such happenings are not isolated aberra-tions; they are cultural markers of the superspreading of a distorted collective psyche, that needs attention, fast. In Waking Up in Time: Finding Inner Peace in Times of Accelerating Change, the physicist and futurist Peter Russell said, "Our power to change the world may have made prodigious leaps but our internal development, the development of our attitudes and values, has pro-gressed more slowly. We seem to be as prone to greed, aggression, shortsightedness, and self-centeredness as Review for Religious we were 2,500 years ago . If we are to survive the critical times we are now passing through, it is essen-tial we undergo a profound shift in values and awaken to our inner truths and our full spiritual potential.''1° Effecting such a shift and awakening has been the mis-sion of Benetvision: A Resource and Research Center for Contemporary Spirituality founded by Benedictine Sister Joan Chittister. Interestingly, Twenge, Campbell, Moore, Russell, and Chittister11 all suggest a return to the lost art of the virtuous life as a way to stem and bring healing to the epidemic of entidement and grandiosity that marks and mars our current North American culture. Risking Humility The final chapter of The Narciss#m Epidemic, "Treating the Epidemic of Narcissism," sees the recovery of authentic humility as the way to lessen the narcissism in our lives and in our culture. Humility is the counter-balance to narcissism, the creative opposite to its viru-lence. Modesty, lack of pretense, absence of arrogance, and refinement of character--so evident in Sister Betty's jubilee tale--are vitally necessary in today's personal and communal reflection. Her unaffected wonder at finding her own picture in the company of Oscar Romero's, and Catherine McAuley's, and Our Lady of Guadalupe's, at the foot of the cross has to make you and me wonder: Do we truly believe that God can do more in us than we ever imagined--or could ever imagine? Her awe at seeing what she and her ministry meant to this poor, loving family puts us in awe, even a feeling of danger. What does this mean for the many in our country whose lives are far too self-focused and comfortable? Has a cer-tain impoverishment accompanied i:he world's material progress? Have we--ourselves, our communities, our 69.3 2010 Clendenen * A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 278 Humility is the ancient ever-new ~irtue that ke~s us rooted in our earthiness and able to savor our human limits as gifts. culture--settled into a certain mediocrity, an exagger-ated feeling of entidement? Is our ministry simple and un-self-conscious enough to be a wondrous conduit for God's goodness and inspire a needy people's transcendent gratitude? Is the path to greater human success and hap-piness much more toward inwardness than upwardness? Humility is the ancient ever-new virtue that keeps us rooted in our earthiness and able to savor our human limits as gifts. Sister Betty felt her lack of facility with Spanish as a weakness, and therein was her humble open-ness to receive new graces and new skills, even in her seventies. She brought those graces to some of God's people in their times of joy and grief. Twelve-step recovery has something to say about this. It advises people to strive for spiritual prog-ress, not perfection, and to admit their powerless-ness, accept their limits, and thereby find true freedom. Such yielding in honesty to a Power greater than ourselves enables people to risk humility. In that humility they find themselves able to understand the Beatitudes (Mt 5:1-12) and to risk living in meekness, gentleness, empathy, self-donating love, and freely chosen accountability. The word humility comes from the Latin word humi-lis, meaning "low," which, in turn, comes from the Latin humus, which means "earth" or "dirt" or "soil." The 12th-century Benedictine abbess and mystic Hildegard of Bingen understood the dangers of not paying atten- Review for Religious tion to nature and all natural things. She devoted one of her many writings to virtues and vices. She was con-vinced that virtues are more than moral habits: they are therapeutic forces within human nature that can produce wonderful transformations. In her legendary Scivias (a Latin abbreviation for. "knowing the Lord's ways"), she said, "Virtue is like a warm garment in a cold world; it is the source of charm in a harsh world" (~1.1.4). Hildegard also wrote the following in one of her many letters of advice to religious leaders: Walk through the valley of humility and know peace. Lose your titanic, hard-to-satisfy ego. A greedy self-esteem is just a steep mountain you'll find dangerous to climb. It's also tricky (if not impossible) to come down from such heights, and anyhow the summit is too small for community. Focus on Love's splendid garden instead. Gather the flowers of humility and simplicity of soul. Study God's patience. Keep your eyes open.12 Sister Betty Barrett's humble, warm, and charming story carries a wallop, as myths do. It is much more than an elderly sister's pleasant memory. It is a dangerous memory. It can affect the future. Notes ~ Johann Baptist Metz, "The Future in the Memory of Suffering," Concilium 76 (1972), p. 15. 2 [See The Word in History: The St. Xavier Forum, ed. T. Patrick Burke (New York: Sheed and Ward; 1966). Ed.] 3 Mary Oliver, "To Begin With, the Sweet Grass," Evidence (Boston: Beacon Press, 2009), pp. 38-39. 4 L. Sperry and H.L. Ansbacker, "The Concept of Narcissism and Narcissistic Personality Disorder," Psychopathology and Psychotherapy (Washington, D.C.: Accelerated Development, 1996), p. 349. 5 Theodore Millon and George S. Everly Jr., Personality and Its Disorders: A Biosocial Learning Approach (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1985), p. 70. [279 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 6 Theodore Millon, Personality-Guided Therapy (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1999), pp. 433-463. 7 Jean M. Twenge and W. Keith Campbell, Living in the Age of Entitlement: The Narcissism Epidemic (New York: Free Press, 2009), p. 2. s Robert L. Moore, Facing the Dragon: Confronting Personal and Spiritual Grandiosi~y (Wilmette: Chiron Publications, 2003), pp. 61, 68, 69, 145-146. 9 Twenge and Campbell, Living, pp. 100.101,234. The TV stoW and other insights in this article also appear in "Book Notes," Horizon: Journal of the National Religious Vocation Conference 35, no. 1 (Fall 2009): 34-35. 10 Peter Russell, Waking Up in Time: Finding Inner Peace in Times of Accelerating Change (Novato, California: Origin Press, 1992), pp. 38, 154. 11 See Joan D. Chittister, "Pride and Humility," in Heart of Flesh: A Feminist Spirituality for Women and Men (Grand Rapids: ~William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998), pp. 89-106. ~2 Carmen Acevedo Butcher, Hildegard of Bingen: A Spiritual Reader (Brewster, Massachusetts: Paraclete Press, 2007), p. 159. You who calmed. You who calmed the winds and sea, Jesus, calm and center me. Draw me in and hold my gaze Soothe and silence me these days. Deep is calling unto deep. I give you all my cares to keep. You who calmed the winds and sea. Jesus, calm and center me. Mary Jan6 Higgins RSM Review for Religious ROBERT J. NOGOSEK Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice When I was nineteen years old and a university student, I made a weekend retreat in the Gethsemani Trappist monastery in Kentucky. I was ~rying to decide whether or not I should enter religious life. At one of the retreat con-ferences, an elderly monk printed in block let-ters on the blackboard the word success, putting two vertical lines through each S to make it a dollar sign. He said the world sees success as making money, but real success in life is not about dollars. We needed to turn one vertical line sideways and make a cross. ~ This said a lot about the Trappist life I was observing. The white-robed monks seemed to live a foolish life not at all conducive to hap-piness° keeping silence, arising in the middle Robert J. Nogosek CSC has been a ~heology profes-sor and a parish pastor among other responsibilities. His address is P.O. Box 929; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. liv!np religious life 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 282 of the night to chant psalms together in a cold chapel, and eating crusty bread in a diet often deprived of meat. But I saw in the monks a remarkable humor I had never seen before. It seemed that for them life was a big joke. I decided I wanted the joy they had, and their way of seeing the meaning of life in this world. Back at college I returned to my sophomore classes. One of the courses was on the four Gospels, printed in parallel columns to show similarities and differences in the story of Jesus. As I s~t in class somewhat bored one spring afternoon, it suddenly occurred to me that the Gospels were practical--that living the Gospels made good sense. I saw this in the story of the rich young man in Matthew 19. He already had more than enough money and possessions while keeping all the command-ments, but was still discontented. He asked what more he could do to have a better life. Jesus graciously invited him to join the community, of disciples, but first he must sell all he had and give the money to the poor. This is how the Trappist monk had explained success. It helped me to see that by joining a religious community I could live the gospel in a literal way, like those who had fol-lowed Jesus in Galilee. The greatest day in my life came some months later on my clothing day. Upon receiving the religious habit with many others that day, I saw myself as having left. the world to join with the others in a life centered on friendship with Jesus Christ. It would consist in living a religious rule. That did not seem to be a great sacrifice, but rather the way to be myself, apart from a world that ran after money and other false values. This freedom to be myself did not initially translate into becoming a gift for others, as St. Paul describes it in Galatians 5:13--"you were called for freedom, brothers. Review for Religious But do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; rather, serve one another through love." Instead, I concentrated on having a direct relationship with Jesus. It was only much later that I realized that God created me to live as a member of the human family, and that this meant sharing my heart with others. Gradually this was extended to seeing myself as a brother to any other human being I might meet. Seeking Perfection I began to see that progress in union with God involved seeking what was called "the perfection of charity." Vatican Council II would state that the pur-pose of religious life is to make the perfection ; of charity a "very clear symbol" (Flannery) or ~ a "blazing emblem" (Abbott) of the kingdom of God (PC §I). Our love for Jesus is to flow out in love of neighbor, which, as Pope Paul VI . . ~, wrote, is to be extended to the whole human race (Ecclesiam suam, §58). As the ancient hymn Ubi Caritas had stated, charity (caritas) united with heartfelt love (amor) makes God present in the world. Vatican II also stated that religious profession of the evangelical councils is to free us from obstacles that might draw us away not only from the fervor of char-ity, but also from "the perfection of divine worship" (LG §4). This perfection of divine worship would be our response to the Orate Fratres at Mass in praying I began to see that progress in union with GOd involved ~seeking what was called ~ '~the perfection of charity. " [283 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 284 that our sacrifice "be acceptable to God, the Father Almighty." But this perfection of divine worship also requires the perfection of charity, as St. Paul suggests by saying that the loving gift the Philippians sent him is the "fragrant aroma'.' of "an acceptable sacrifice, pleas-ing to God" (Ph 4:18). Vatican II calls the Eucharist "a sacrament of love" and "a bond of charity" (SC §47), not unlike St. Thomas saying that Holy Communion incites into action our dispositions to be charitable (ST III.79.1 ad 2)~ He cites 2 Corinthians 5:14--"the love of Christ impels us." This could be why the new liturgy has shortened the time after Holy Communion. We are not to bury our face in our hands in private adoration of Jesus in our heart, but rather to ready ourselves for reaching out to others. It calls me "to put off the old man" (Col 3:9) of self-centeredness, and put into action the command-ment of loving others as Jesus has loved me. Jesus wants to be loved in his people, as a religious sister once heard in her heart when, upon kissing the crucifix before retir-ing, she heard the words "Kiss my people." Personal Fulfillment Even though I had often heard women religious speak of their quest for "fulfillment," it took years for me to revise my original desire for success in life into a language of personal fulfillment. I had not expected to be "fulfilled" as a person by the sacrifice represented in religious profession of poverty, chastity, and obedience, any more than I had seen the austerity of the Trappist life as a way to personal fulfillment in this world. Making life seem like a joke could hardly be called "ful-fillment." My thinking was changed, however, in part by a parable in C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity (Bk 4, 9). Review fir Religious According to an adaptation of the story, you invite a friend to live with you in your house. After some time, you notice blueprints have been spread out on the din-ing- room table. Inspecting them, you realize your guest has elaborate plans to transform your little house into a great palace--"throwing out a new wing here, put-ring on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards." As C.S. Lewis comments, it is as though your guest wants to make it a home worthy of himself. To think of Jesus as actually living with me in my heart was not something I had learned in catechism. We had been told that the Holy Spirit was the divine guest in our heart, bug the real presence of Jesus was only in the host in the tabernacle, except when Jesus cam to us in Holy Communion and stayed for seven minutes.~ But during novitiate I had read some books of Raoul Plus SJ, especially one entitled In Christ Jesus, showing from the writings of St. Paul that by baptismal grace we have, abiding in our heart,, the real presence of Jesus. It is the same Jesus as resides in the tabernacle--body and blood, soul and divinity. In Holy Communion he does not come for a visit; he comes to stay. Others around me disagreed, but I was sure Plus was right about this teaching of St. Paul. Later I would also find it in St. Teresa of Avila's Interior Castle. If the real presence of Jesus dwells in us, then we also meet him in others, and what others share in truth and love could well be a gift to us directly from Jesus in their heart. This makes our mutual sharing of life crucial to our relationship with Jesus. It took me beyond the Little Flower's Way of Spiritual Childhood, which long before I had been drawn to by the Trappist monks. There is something more than putting as much love as possible into each action; I am also called to make a 69.3 2010 Nogosek * Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice gift of myself to others so as to communicate the love of Jesus, who dwells within my heart. This amounts to being a grace to others. It is the language of spiritual gifts or charisms. Charisms During formation I. was repeatedly urged to rec-ognize my special talents and gifts, since religious life involves a commitment to strive for personal and spiri-tual growth. I was told that "grace builds on i~ature." So what is my nature as an individual? What talents and personality had I brought with me into religious life? These efforts at self-scrutiny often left me feel-ing quite discouraged. I lacked so much of what others around me had in talents and personality. Only much later would I see this differently, in part because of the parable in Mere Christianity--that inviting Jesus into my heart could result in my being radically changed as a person. In calling me to discipleship, Jesus may well be planning to have me express myself in wonderful ways, just as he had promised his disciples that they would do greater works than he had done (Jn 14:12). We know that by receiving his Body we become his Body, so that, like him (LG §5), our words, actions, and personal presence can reveal the kingdom of God on earth. This could represent the "abundant fruit from the grace of baptism" which Vatican II says we will be enabled to have by religious profession (LG §44). If I am to be a grace to others by charisms, I have to come out ofmy shell. This is like a cartoon I once saw. In the first frame, there is a big egg bouncing up and down. In the next frame a duckling has poked out his head through the shell, and looks around in fright. In the final frame he has dived headfirst back into the egg. It is much Review for Religious the same with charisms. We have to drop our defenses and risk being a person in new ways before others. Walking on the Water Underlying Vatican II's Pastoral Constitution of the Church in the Modern World is the story of walking on water in Matthew 14. Jesus is walking on the waters of today's world, and -- - invites us, like St. Peter, to get out of our boat to ioin him. This is to fol-low our discerning "the signs of the times" (GS §.4), which are the ques-tions and yearnings of people today.2 - It means trying something new. In leaving our comfort zone, we will need to keep our eyes on Jesus. St. Peter started sinking only when he looked around and felt the wind blowing hard against him. This suggests that charisms do not form part of our personal identity. Although we have been given the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit at confirmation, these are not graces to give grace to others, but rather a disposi-tion to be sensitive to the breath of the Spirit, which, as Jesus said, may come and go like the summer breeze (Jn 3:8). Our personal defects remain; it is as "earthen vessels" (2 Co 4:7) that we carry Christ's grace to others. Maybe, in our self-gift to others, the power of Jesus will be conveyed, even through our defects and vulnerability. St~ Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12:10--"when I am weak, then I am strong." Jesus is walking on the ¯ wafers bf today's world, and invites us, like St. Peter, . "to~et out Of our.boat to join him. 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice The opportunity for that came up early in my reli-gious life. Just as I completed studies in biblical theol-ogy, I received a letter assigning me to teach dogmatic theology. Upon arriving in the classroom a few months later, I steadied my nerves by recalling G.K. Chesterton: "If something is worth doing, it is worth doing badly." But the course turned out quite well. The students enjoyed my attempts to use the Bible to understand dogma in place of the traditional Neo-Scholasticism they had been hearing. Again, many years later, I was invited to join a team in southern California doing evangelization among Mexican immigrants. I told God that if he wanted me to do this, he would have to teach me Spanish. Initially some of the people rejected me because they sensed I did not understand what they were saying. That was quite true, but, when with them, I would repeat a word or phrase they had said just to keep them talking. Since I loved the people, I was quite happy to be able to communicate even a little bit and to keep on listening. After they came to see I really liked being with them, they began showing that they liked being with "Padre Roberto." At the same time I was making a big hit with their children, maybe because I saw each child as just as much a person as I was. With their kids so fond of me, as time went on their parents became more satisfied with me as I was. 2881 Inner Resistance to Grace Like the companions of St. Peter on the lake that stormy night, we are likely to have a lot of reluctance "to get out of the boat" to join Jesus walking on the water. This is typical of the resistance described by St. Paul's discussion of Christian freedom in Galatians 5. He calls it "the desire of the flesh." When I first arrived at Review for Religious Coachella, California, as the new pastor of an Hispanic parish, I was determined to follow the example of St. John Vianney, who had started out as cur4 of Ars by knocking on doors to visit the people in their homes.3 To make this happen, I put it on my schedule for cer-tain evenings each week. As I got into my car at 7 p.m., usually I would not feel like going, but I went anyway, and once I was interacting with the people I enjoyed it--and they did too. In Sunday homilies I would tell the people that, if they wanted to experience the Holy Spirit (and I knew they did), they should do something for someone. I said the presence of the Holy Spirit is felt mainly in our actions. Others say the same: that when they visit the sick, or even someone in jail, they "get more out of it" than they give. We may feel like new persons in our spontaneity of interact-ing with others out of our love for Jesus. People even relate that they have said things that surprised them, things they had never thought of before. This recalls the promise of Jesus about the gift of the Holy Spirit-- that we should not prepare what to say beforehand, for in our witness itself the Spirit would give us the words to say (Mt 10:20). 'The presence of the Holy: Spirit is felt mainly .fin our actionS. Charisms and Renewal In its call to renewal, Vatican II invites us to aspire to have charisms typical of the early church. Both Pope John xxIII and Pope Paul VI called for a "New Pentecost," to restore to the church today the youth- 69.:~ 2010 Nogosek * Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice fulness and enthusiasm it had when it first came from the hands of Jesus. When we look at early Christianity in comparison with the church today, we wonder what caused the rapid growth in the number of believers. Rodney Stark in The Rise of Christianity estimates that during the first three centuries the number of Christians increased by forty percent every ten years, beginning in A.D. 40 with about 1,000, and' attaining more than 33,000,000 believers by the year 350 (p. 7). As a soci- ,ologist of religion, he suggests that .the best explana-tion for this phenomenal growth was the way Christians responded to the epidemics in. the empire, which would ravage the entire population at least once every century, with mortality rates of up to thir.ty percent (pp. 73ff). Even the emperor Marcus Aurelius was among the vic-tims in the year 180. At such times the pagans would flee in panic from their homes and cities, abandoning without food and water their loved ones who had fallen ill, and even refusing to bury the dead. The Christians, however, by reason of their love of Christ, would care for their sick and with devotion bury their dead. This care was extended not only to fellow Christians but also to the many pagans married to Christians, and to some of their pagan friends as well. Stark concludes: "This meant that in the aftermath of each epidemic, Christians made up a larger percentage of the population, even without new converts. Moreover, their noticeable better survival rate would have seemed a "miracle" to Christians and pagans alike, and this ought to have influenced conversions." Typically at the beginning of religious communities there was a phenomenal growth in the number of new members, who were attracted to the founder's charism in response to a critical need, even at great sacrifice. In Review for Religious founding my own Holy Cross community, Blessed Basil Moreau was responding not only to the secularization of France after the French Revolution, but also to pleas for help from European missionaries serving in Africa, North America, and Asia. After forming a community of men and women committed to the hearts of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he put many of them at risk by sending them abroad with few material resources, saying that as Holy Cross religious "the Cross is our only hope." He meant that, when as a community we suffer great trials while engaged in service of others, it is a sign from divine providence that our efforts will produce fruit beyond human possibilities. With such words derived from St. Paul, Moreau was transforming the French school of spirituality, with its devotion to the mystery of the incar-nation, into a trust in the paschal mystery. This fostered a bold reliance on divine providence in undertaking dif-ficult apostolates in new environments, to which we were being invited as a new apostolic religious community committed to serving the church. A New Image of the Church According to Vatican II, the church today needs a critical reform of its image, that it be much more a sign of the good news of the kingdom of God. By his 1964 encyclical, Ecclesiam suam, Pope Paul vI challenged the council fathers on the eve of the third session "to com-pare the ideal image of the church, just as Christ sees it, wills it, and loves it. with the actual image the church projects today" (§ 11). This entails, he says, "correction of the defects that conscience denounces and rejects, as if, standing before a mirror, we were to examine interiorly the image of Christ that he has left us." These "necessary reforms," he says, will be "delicate and difficult" (§12). 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 292 One delicate task of the council was that of altering the image of the church that Pope Pius XIl had presented in 1943 in his renowned encyclical Mystici Corporis. Pius identified the church as the Body. of Christ by being "a perfect society" in its juridical structure. Some of the council fathers would describe this image of the church as the "barque of Peter," with the clergy and religious as the crew and the laity their precious cargo to be transported safely across the treacherous waters of the world to the safe harbor of heaven. The council saw, however, that this is not the way the church should be. Gaudium et spes would call us out of the boat, and especially the laity, who were to see themselves as the primary evangelizers of modern society (LG §31). They were called to this and equipped for it in their baptism and confirmation (LG §33). The obligation came from Christ's commandment to love our neighbor, and the equipment would be the spiritual gifts called charisms. Their ordained pastors were to help them discern their charisms, form them as lay apostles, and give them "room for action" (LG §37). As a preferred image of the church, the council chose the biblical term "people of God." It was remi-niscent not only of the Hebrew people freed from the slavery of Egypt and guided by God through the desert, but also of the story of the multiplication of the loaves and fish in Mark 6, where Jesus has the multitude sit down on the grass in groups of hundreds and fifties. Rather than mainly showing itself as a well-defended and highly organized juridical body, the church is to make itself seen in the world as a movement of faith-filled people. The world today needs to experience the presence of God, and that can best happen where mem-bers of the church form small Christian communities Re'view for Religious through "familial love" of one another and collaboration for the faith of the gospel (GS §22). This encourages an "ecclesiology from below" char-acteristic of the way St. Paul in Ephesians 4 describes members of the church being formed into the Body of Christ. By sharing our truth in the spirit of love, we are to "grow in every way into him who is the head, Christ." The sharing is by dialogue, which had been promoted by Pope Paul vI in Ecdesiam suam and would be declared by Vatican II to be the special charac-teristic of the mis-sion of the church today (GS §82): "In virtue of its mis-sion to enlighten the whole world with the message of the gospel and to "r ~ gather together into one spirit all women and men of every nation, race, and culture, the church shows itself as a sign of that amity which renders possible sincere dialogue and strengthens it." By this we are challenged as religious to evaluate how we form ongoing community life, and what sign value it provides for others. Are we living "that amity which renders sincere dialogue and strengthens it"? At Coachella we did receive something of a posi-tive answer regarding the sign value of our community life. Three years after we arrived, the diocese conducted a thorough evaluation of the parish put into our care. One group of parishioners reported that before we came to the parish they were highly critical of one, another as parishioners. But, having noticed that the Holy Cross , 'We are challenged as religious to evaluate how we form ongoing .,community life, and what sign value it prov!des for others. 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 294 priests and brothers never voiced a word of criticism towards one another, they decided they also should act that way toward one another. This had not happened sim-ply from our faithfulness to prayer and our apostolic zeal as a religious community. We had made the sacrifice of having weekly house chapters, where we shared with one another what was on our minds and in our hearts. Atoleast in this respect, we hhd succeeded in being "a sign which can and ought to attract all the members of the church to an effective and prompt fulfillment of the duties of their religious vocation" (LG §44). Certainly the religious vocation of all the parishioners was to live out the New Commandment byloving one another aiad making it vis-ible. We also knew that the parishioners were .to see us as a sign that "heavenly blessings'? were already present in this wtrld, foretelling "the resurrected state and the glory of the heavenly kingdom" (LG §4). For that to take place, we would have to show the people that we loved them just as they were, and in very concrete ways. The Rich Man and Lazarus According to the council, religious are "to give an increasingly clearer revelation of Christ," which includes his choosing to live as a poor man, as also was chosen by his virgin mother (LG §46). Here Vatican II was not saying anything new. What was new, and espe-cially challenging, was that as members of the church we are to evaluate the image we give to the world in light of the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Lk 16): "Everyone must consider his neighbor without excep-tion as another self, taking into account first of all his life and the means necessary to living it with dignity, so as not to imitate the rich man who had no concern for the poor man Lazarus" (GS §27). Review for Religious Here again we are challenged to evaluate our sign value as a religious community. According to Gaudium et spes (§88), if we are living in a nation where "a majority of citizens who are counted as Christians have an abundance of this world's goods," we are in grave danger of causing scandal to the many nations where the majority are not Christian, and where the citizens "are deprived of the necessities of life and are tormented with hunger, disease, and every kind of misery." The council says that this is "as if Christ himself were appealing to the charity of his followers through the mouths of these poor people." How will Jesus see our life as a religious congrega-tion when he comes on the Last Day? How certain are we to be among those at his right hand when he comes in glory to judge the members of all nations by the cri-terion of how they served the needy? An Acceptable Sacrifice .Since Vatican II saw the mission of Jesus being con-tinued by the church, Pope John Paul II liked to repeat that the way of the church is to be the way of Jesus Christ. Jesus said we must lose our life for his sake in order to find it (Mt 10:39). He told those who wanted to follow him: "Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head" (Lk 9:58). St. Paul wrote that by our bearing affliction "the love of God will be poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us" (Rm 5:5). Like St. Paul, we do not want Jesus to have died in vain, nor that his presence touch only those who believe in the Eucharist. As friends of Jesus, we want to help him make the world better, that the pleasing aroma cre-ated by his presence in us may indeed be, as St. Paul says, not as "an odor that leads to death" where people 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice reject gospel values--but rather "an odor of life that leads to life" (2,Co 2:16), where people are attracted to a gift of freedom to be themselves through sharing the wisdom, help, and love of the Holy Spirit. But today, as consecrated women and men "eval-uating the contemporary world wisely in the light of faith" (PC §2), we must ask whether the way we live our religious profession is truly becoming "an accept-able sacrifice." Jesus said that before he returned "the love of many would grow cold" (Mr 24:12), and he asked whether he would find faith upon the earth when he came again (Lk 18:8). Notes ~ It takes about seven minutes for the host to dissolve in the stomach and the consecrated host to be no longer present. 2 Although some church leaders interpret these signs as today's troubles and thus may see the world as especially hostile to the gospel, I would argue that according to Vatican II our times are today's evangeli-cal opportunity prepared by God's Spirit breathing over the world. 3 Francis Trochu, The Curi of Ars (Rockford, Illinois: TAN Books and Publishers, 1977), pp. 116f. 296[ Gamble If l but touch his clothes. Mark 5:28 Did the soldier who won and wore the seamless robe allow it to touch him? Irene Zimmerman OSF Review for Religiou~ 'JEFFREY MICKLER Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious Itw"googled" the term "difficult people" and instantly o hundred million sites were found. Business managers, owners, and employees are all seeking answers on how to cope with people who are genuinely difficult to get along with. The hilarious 1980 movie Nine to Five told of the revenge three female employ-ees took against their male chauvinist boss. In real life, however, revenge is never a solution, and dealing with difficult people is never really funny. Hence, there are books like Sandra A. Crowe's Since Strangling Isn't an Option. Difficult people drain others' enthusiasm and suck the life out of organizations, as the title Working with You Is Killing Me by Katherine Crowley and Kathi Elster suggests.' Dealing with difficult people in the workplace is one thing. Living with them in a religious commu- Jeffrey Mickler SSP has worked in formation and various other min-istries and was provincial of the Paulists' United States Province. His address is Box 595; 9531 Akron Canfield Road (Rt 224); Canfield, Ohio 44406. 69.3 2010 Mickler ¯ Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious 298 nity raises the bar. Although all of us can be difficult at times, some religious are chronically difficult and even hostile. Augustine Poulain SJ in his 19th-century spiritual classic The lnterior Graces describes one type of difficult religious: Another trial., is living with an irritable person who finds fault with everything, never speaks a pleasant word . These difficult characters often have the reputation of being very amiable abroad because they are full of attention for those whom they need, or those who would not allow themselves to be bullied. These nervous natures may be likened to torpe-does on account of the charges that they let fly at those who .approach them. It is impossible to arrange any matter with them clearly and quietly. Above all, let no one try to excuse himself when they accuse him of anything or [try to] prove to them that they are mistaken . The volcano will then be in full eruption. Such minds will never be in the wrong; they alone are endowed with sound judgment. This behavior shows., a grave lack of charity. In community, characters of this. nature make life very difficult for others, and are sometimes the cause of abandonment of vocations.2 Father Stephen Rossetti, of St. Luke Institute in Silver Spring, Maryland, in his recorded conference Spirituality of Christian Leadership, describes such people as suffering "chronically impaired social functioning." These individuals have "inflexible, maladaptive ways of dealing with other people." Wherever they are sta-tioned, they divide and disrupt communities. Their nat-ural charm ensures that they will have some supporters, but their anger at the world for not revolving around their needs makes them almost impossible to live with. When confronted by authority with a long list of com-plaints, these people blame others and are unable to Review for Religious grasp that they themselves have caused any problems. Father Rossetti points out that they have narcissistic personalities. When confronted, they erupt into a rage that sends shock waves through a community.3 Some of them end up living in their own apartments because provincials can find no communities willing to tolerate daeir divisive behavior. Rossetti says the chances of changing them for the better are extremely slim. Traditional therapies have proven fruitless. He advises giving such persons honest feedback, together with strict and clear guidelines for their behavior. Leaders must be compas-sionate towards them, but firm. ¯ theses.temperaments. The leadership has a responsibility to do all in its power to prevent them from terrorizing the community and running roughshod over people.4 Rossetti's position that modern therapy can do lit-tle to change such characters corresponds to Poulain's 19th-century assessment: "I have seen very religious persons try to cure themselves of this irritability. They have been unable to succeed . I think a miracle is required to overcome these temperaments.''5 Se~in Sammon of the Marist Brothers has done extensive research on dealing with difficult people. Drawing upon the works of Robert M. Bramson, Charles J. Keating, and Robert L. Veninga and James P. Spradley, he has developed a pragmatic and effective ~ have seen very religious persons try t6 cure themselvesof this irritabiiity. I think a miracle 'is rdqyire~:to overcome 69.3 2010 Mickler * Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious 300 approach that is presented on tapes from St Pauls/Alba House, Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Person. Like Poulain and Rossetti, Sammon acknowledges that efforts to change truly difficult people are basically fruitless. He suggests, however, ways we ourselves can change in order to better cope with them.6 He lists seven types of difficult people.7 He calls all of the first three types hostile-aggressive: they are "Sherman tanks," "snipers," and "exploders." The Sherman tanks are convinced of their ideas and dominate meetings by discounting out of hand the suggestions of others. They present their own ideas as the only rational, workable thing for the community or committee to adopt. They refer to other approaches as "stupid," a "waste of time," or "ridicu-lous." Sammon suggests meeting the Sherman tanks with calm strength. When the Sherman tanks begin to roll over a meet-ing, the chair should let them go on for a while but then abruptly intervene: "Stop right there; we have heard your objections; now we need valuable input from others." Sherman tanks will most likely add a few new objections until the chair or the presenter interrupts: "We will be covering those objections and discussing them as the meeting goes on!" Participants, present-ers, and leaders need to stand up for themselves against the Sherman tanks, clearly explaining their positions, not backing down, but avoiding a fight. Hostile-aggres-sive individuals almost always "win" in a fight, but the Sherman tanks usually respect such strength. They often do have valid insights that the community can benefit from; it is their ways of behaving that make it hard for the community to consider their input fairly. "Snipers" will make remarks that are just barely audible to the person being targeted. The remarks are Review for Religious biting and sarcastic, and the victim is supposed to laugh them off. These are different fr

Issue 64.3 of the Review for Religious, 2005. ; lglous Witnessing The Spirit QUARTERLY 64.3 2005: Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to cbarisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul VI said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University. by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ ~Veb 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. ©2005 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ev'iew for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Wetrmaster Adv#ory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Clare Boehmer ASC Steve Erspamer SM Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 64.3 2005 contents 228 prisms Prisms community chapters 230 Where Two or More Are Gathered Ted Dunn explores some of the unique challenges and opportunities pertaining to religious chapters of election, especially highlighting the differences between politics and discernment. 242 Chapter Delegates, Once and Future Sister Marie de Lourdes Mates IHM recapitulates and refurbishes some earnest practical suggestions about what to look for in chapter delegates. 252 Community Chapters: Seven Personal Beliefs Melannie Svoboda SND presents an outline of concrete expectations for a religious congregation's chapter meeting. Reflection and Discussion 226 259 religious life Invisible--Even to Ourselves? Marie Brinkman SCL emphasizes that visible unity-- community bonds--must become the sign of Christ and his church that religious life is meant to be. Review for Religious 269 Living in Community: Continuing the Conversation Doris Gottemoeller RSM returns to the discussion about the place of community living as an uncommon and striking witness to the power of the gospel and the dynamism of a congregation's charism. Psalm Prayer Reflection and Discussion 281 witnessing With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux: Letters of Mother Teresa and St. Thdr~se Mary C. Carroll SSSF gives witness to the wisdom of a loving friendship expressed in the letter exchanges of Mother Teresa of Calcutta and Father Michael van der Peet SCJ and Thdr~se of Lisieux and Maurice Barth~l~my-Belli~re. 296 Alfred Delp SJ and the Heart of Jesus Mary Frances Coady focuses on Alfred Delp's devotion to the Heart of Jesus that sustained him in his Nazi imprisonment and eventual death by hanging. 301 the spirit Led by the Spirit: St. Basil the Great Andrew Ryder SCJ enters us into St. Basil the Great's contributions to our theological understanding and appre-ciation of the Holy Spirit as the third person of the Trinity. departments 316 Scripture Scope: Encountering the Parables of Jesus 321 Canonical Counsel: Additional Comments on Interpretation 326 Book Reviews 64.3 200~ prisms The prevalent theological cat-egory in describing the church is the word com-munion. It is significant that this choice of word confronts the most serious need of our times. Communion emphasizes what binds us together. Theologians today want to say that this word most captures what the church is all about. Pope Benedict xvI, in his initial addresses as the leader of the Roman Catholic commu-nity, has called for a renewed effort among all peoples of religion to look to some kind of bonding or communion. The essential witness that any Christian gives is that of bonding. There is no working for justice unless there is a bonding with the "other." There is no exercise of charity unless there is a communion with the ones being served. As Jesus pointed out consistently, each one of us as a follower comes to serve and not be served--like him. We do not serve justice or charity out of a superior stance; we can only be on the same level, as with our sisters and broth-ers, and it is there that we work. Perhaps we may look like good secular social workers. As Christians, we want more; we are looking towards communion. If marriage in the Christian community has no greater rate of fidelity than secular marriage, then as Christians we are failing. If men and women in religious life commitment do not give Review for Religious witness to a life in common, then they fail in the most essential witness of their religious life. It is not just in entering upon a vocation and it is not just in generous service that we show ourselves to be Christian. The "proof of the pudding" is whether we truly are people who "bond," who live in communion because commu-nion is entering into God's life, the life of the Trinity. How in our times have we lost some ways of "bond-ing," of being in communion? It seems we no longer recognize that there are three progressive steps which Jesus has identified for us in the Gospels. First, there is detachment ("leave your father and your mother," "go, sell") or what we might today call availability. We come with so many non-negotiables; we come with our needs and our demands. Many of us Christians are unavailable to God and to one another. And. so the first step in bond-ing or communion is being available. The second step is generosity or being in service ("come, follow"). We often pride ourselves on how much we do for others, extending ourselves generously with our time and tal-ent. No doubt we are people of service, but is it all on our terms? Are we covetously in control of all our works of justice and charity? Both the first and the second steps can be half steps in living as a Christian. Are half steps any steps at all? The third is, simply, sharing or, rightly understood, surrendering ("take up your cross"). Commun. ion hap-pens when we are available, when we give. generously in service, and when we share our lives unstintingly--as God does with us. Communion or bonding is our 21 st-_century quest as a Catholic community. It is a quest that Jesus tells us is within our ~raced reach. David L. Fleming SJ 64.3 2005 TED DLrNN Where Two or More Are Gathered community chapters It has been said, "Where two or more are gathered, there is politics." Though many religious communities have embraced communal discernment as their preferred means for electing leadership, they are still not immune to the pulls and trappings of politics. Seeking to hear the voice of the Spirit through communal discernment can, at its best, eclipse and far surpass the influence of politics. Communal discernment, however, no matter how well practiced, will neither eradicate politics nor guarantee that there will be no regressive pulls in chapters of election. But awareness of the differences between discernment and politics can help chapter participan~ts resist the forces of politics and secure the grace-filled opportunities of discernment. Ted Dunn, a clinical psychglogist, wrote for us in our 63.3 issue (July 2004). His address remains Comprehensive Consulting Services; 6209 Mid "Rivers Mall Drive, Suite 294; St. Charles, Missouri 63304. Review for Religgous When discernment and politics collide, how can chapter participants make sense of all the forces in play? During a chapter of election, what are some of the regressive urges that may work against a community's efforts at discernment? What are some of the differences between "political" conversations and "discerning" ones? These are questions I address in this article. We are not likely to rid ourselves of politics completely, but I am confident that, if communities commit themselves to communal discernment, they can grow in their capacity to use it well. From my years of facilitating communal discernment, I am confident that goodwill and good ways of channeling it can enhance discernment and diminish politicking. This, in turn, can help communities to seek God's will more fully and thereby discern their choice of leadership more wisely. In line with this I plan to point out some differences between discernment and politics from three angles, namely, numbers, powers of persuasion, and so-called winners and losers. But first I want to set the context by elaborating on regression (returning to old patterns). Regression often emerges during chapters of election and, if left unrecognized and unchecked, can blight a community's desire to put discernment ahead of politics. Regression in the Face of Discernment For a chapter to be a success, its participants should check their human propensities to constrict the movement of the Spirit, and instead work Collectively toward welcoming the Spirit present among them to liberate and enlighten. They should seek ways of enhancing their own spiritual freedom and that of the group, avoiding anything that might hinder it. They need to be alert to personal and group patterns of regression and strive to eliminate them. I would guess that every 64.3 200Y Dunn ¯ Where Two or More Are Gathered community has had, at one time or another, a dark moment in which its chapter of election fell far short of its best intentions and let, for example, politics take precedence over discernment. I would also guess that-- although such a moment tends to recede from the community's consciousness between chapters--it often returns at the beginning of the next chapter. It is as if the walls of the chapter hall hold the memories and, when the chapter is convoked, so too are the memories. Despite such experiences, or perhaps because of them, individuals and communities I am acquainted with have made courageous efforts to move beyond the pain of past elections and write new memories upon the walls. I have witnessed participants building new bridges, mending frayed relationships, offering and accepting olive branches, and all in all seeking greater unity. Communities yearn to grow in discernment and put forth their best green-gold efforts when given the opportunity. Yet I also know that, as in all growing, communities are at risk. They repeat old patterns of tension and vulnerability. As a psychologist I recognize that regression is a natural and normal response in the face of threat. It is a coping mechanism that people use when new ways of behaving seem shaky or are perceived as failing. Think of the first time you tried a new prayer form and it was not working for you. You likely sought refuge, at least temporarily, in the tried and true. Recall a return to your family of origin. Despite your growth in other relationships, in a difficult interaction with a relative you may have returned to a once-outlived means of coping (withdrawing, clashing, and so forth). Recall your community's initial efforts at the more fluid processes of communal discernment and the simulta_neous urges to return to the familiar confines of Robert's Rules and carefully orchestrated conversations. Review for Religious When it comes to elections, politics is what is most familiar to us. It is part of our culture and is no less a part of religious life. Discernment is newly learned and also countercultural behavior. And so, when tensions arise during a chapter, you have any number of urges to return to old patterns, the patterns of politics. You may have urges to-rally around your friends, to defend perceived "victims," to speak for those not speaking. You may want to tune out, or argue with what you do not want to hear, or go silent in the hope of being rescued by others more vocal. You may want to have the meeting outside the meeting (in the halls and over coffee) instead of in the assembly room. You may want to campaign for some, and against some others, and so on. The good news is that such urges do not have to be your destiny. Your next chapter presents you with the challenge and opportunity to write new memories on the walls of your assembly room. It is a chance to further reconcile and redeem the pain of past elections. It is a chance to weave new patterns of interacting into the collective experience of chapters of election and place discernment ahead of politics. But the undertow toward politics will, if left unrecognized, take away your freedom and wreak havoc upon your desire to grow beyond your past. If it is recognized, however, communities have the opportunity to catch themselves and choose instead the grace and gift of communal discernment. Politics as an Impediment to Discernment We humans have an insatiable appetite for politics. Enquiring minds want to know: Who's on first? Who's it Discernment is' newly learned and also coun~ercultural behavior. 64.3 2005 Dunn ¯ 14~bere Two or'More ~lre Gathered going to be? Who's ahead in the polls? In an election year, politics and politicians dominate the evening news, CNN, and the front page. Political talk is with us at meals and up and down hallways and sidewalks. Religious communities, it seems to me, are no less involved with politics. In fact, if politics means involvement, interest, and concern for how you govern yourselves, religious are just as political as any other segment of society. They desire to understand what is going on in the world, in the church, and in the community and to participate in shaping the future. Politics, then, has its good points, but it is important to understand its pitfalls and get beyond them in order to do the deeper work of communal discernment. One risk is that politics and discernment have definite similarities. Both lead to an informed vote in an election. Both seek understanding and involvement. In both methods, information serves to influence people and to moderate that influence. And both methods are about power. There are other commonalities as well, but there are definite distinctions to be drawn too. Where does politics end and discernment begin? Numbers. First let us talk numbers. Numbers sometimes talk long before people get acquainted with the candidates and their character. In the politics of our day, there are endless permutations of the numbers. Numbers are the heartbeat of American pre-election activity. Pollsters keep taking political pulses and making election prognostications. There are more permutations of polls than there are stats on the Super Bowl. Results are statistically projected hours before the polls close. Such results are not official, of course, but they cause people to think and say, "Why vote? It's a done deal." In discernment, however, the significance of numbers is little or none. In many discernment processes a Review for Religious member needs only one endorsement to enter into it. And entering is far more important than trying to forecast where you will end up. Entering the mystery, walking the Emmaus journey, searching out your future together by collectively seeking God's intentions--these things are not concerned with numbers. Numbers will not answer a community's quest for healing, yearnings for a stronger partnership, desires for deeper understanding, or efforts to resolve differences. Counting numbers, wondering how many votes you or someone else might get, will not help you hear the voice of the Spirit. You cannot take a poll to find out what God wants. Numbers at the moment of election have a different, though still secondary, importance. Ideally, numbers are the result of, not the means for, discernment. Ideally, they are the outcome that confirms the will of the Spirit mediated through the chapter. I do not know about your community, but in some communities, once the balloting begins, discernment goes out the window and people start listening to the numbers. They write the numbers down, tally the votes, and track who is getting what. Like a runaway train people start following the numbers instead of the Spirit. The numbers take over. It is important to work as a chapter body to prevent a numbers-oriented election. Facilitators need to intersperse .processes into the election itself to help the community discern its way through to the end. Ideally, the election process should be the culmination of the discernment process, not detached or separate from discernment. In my experience, when an election keeps the integrity of the discerning body and its discernment process intact, then numbers, if used at all, are of negligible importance. Pozver~ of Persuasion. In politics, power is .sought from a variety of sources through a variety of means. Power is 64.3 2005 Dunn ¯ Where Two or More ~qre Gathered found first in the money used for campaigning. Money pays for ads and buys favors from special-interest groups that in turn lobby for their candidates. In one form or another, money runs the machinery that shapes the information that people receive, which is of course the ultimate means of influence. In American politics "information is power," and, if you want to know who has it, "follow the money." While voters want information about what their candidates hope to accomplish, and while politicians vow that they will "stick to the issues," too often there is regression toward name-calling and mudslinging. Politicians know that there is great power in casting doubt upon their opponents. So-called "negative campaigning" persists despite the public outcry against it, in large part because research shows that when used skillfully it works. Political elections, as we have witnessed, are not about how you play the game; they are about winning, no matter the cost. Politics centers on persuasion as a means to attain desired outcomes. Spin doctors seek to persuade by parsing the truth. Political strategists provide different information for different target groups, strategically timing the leakage of news, all in an effort to sway specific voters. Party politics uses these powers of persuasion to garner support for their respective camps, which in turn support their candidates. Selective information to induce fear or call for party loyalty is among the powers of persuasion in American politics. In discernment, though, how you play the game and what kind of power you use make all the difference. The power of discernment rests on faith. It rests on your ability to pray, reflect, and journey together in such a way as to discover your collective truth, to experience the movement of the Spirit among yourselves. Paradoxically, Review for Religious the power of discernment is inversely related to persuading others or controlling the outcome. In fact, detachment from the outcome, rather than attempting to engineer the outcome, is a hallmark of discernment. Discernment requires conversations about the direction your community is moving, the issues you face, and the ideal team to facilitate the desired movement. It is about who can complement whom, not who is better than whom. It is not about camps competing around special interests. It is about cooperating in the interests of the whole. Instead of trying to convince others of your truth, communal discernment invites you to discover the community's collective truth. Discernment is not about campaigning, convincing, and cajoling, but about listening, sharing, and deepening the common understanding. Chapter participants are not chosen to elect favorite, candidates to represent personal interests, but rather to come up with a team of persons who together can best serve the interests of the entire community. I believe that the power of communal discernment is in direct proportion to a group's determination to be enlightened by one another and by the commitment of all to the common good. This power is present in direct proportion to your freedom, individually and collectively, to respond to the Spirit echoed in the voices of all the chapter members. It is present to the degree you are interiorly free from whatever might bind you, be it your loyalties to others, passions around your own agendas, fears of being hurt or hurting others, or haunting and hurting memories. It is present when people are free of 64.3 2005 Dunn ¯ Where Two or More Are Gathered prejudice and free of gossipy reputations, of labels that persist year after year. Being flee, however, does not mean an absence of anxiety and fears. Rather, it means a willingness to name, claim, and, if possible, work through your fears rather than succumb to them. It means acknowledging your desired outcomes while simultaneously relinquishing any efforts to control them. It means a willingness to enter the unpredictability and mystery of your personal and communal faith journey. If you are free enough to embrace a truth larger than your own--free of efforts to hide from uncomfortable truths or blind yourselves to a common good that may ask more of you than you want to give--then your power to discern is enhanced. The power of such spiritual freedom is yours to claim. No one can claim it for you or work towards it for you. Freedom is inherently yours to begin with. If you do this work collectively, if you maintain deep roots of knowledge, passion, and conviction while holding all things lightly, then you will have access to the Spirit moving through you and among you, The movement of the Spirit and your own search for enlightenment and understanding are at the heart of discernment. Discernment is the polar opposite of politics. It is a continuous focus on winning, not on having won and resting on our laurels. Winners and Losers. Let us talk about so-called winners and losers. Who is better? The St. Louis Rams or the Dallas Cowboys, the French or the Irish, African Americans or Caucasians or Hispanics, rich or poor, tall or short, women at the well or men at the "Y," a lilac ora rose? We humans are prone to thinking in categories and classes. We have carved up God's creation into categories. We have boxed and labeled the people and things of our world as good or bad, right or wrong, winners or losers. Review for Religious ¯ We have prejudices, biases, preconceived notions, assumptions, and conscious and subconscious judgments that put price tags on so many things that God looked at and said are "good." God sees us all as both blessed and broken, but we seem to view ourselves as good, better, best, less than good or less than evil, depending upon our looks, ethnicity, friends, affiliations, or supposed motives. Children not chosen for this or that often feel "excluded" and "hurt." Out of such feelings we form judgments and begin to think in terms of winners and losers. From facilitating many community discernments over the years, I consider all participants winners. All community members who are endorsed, who come to discernment gatherings, who respond to the call to serve in elected leadership are winners. They take risks that have brought hurts in the past and perhaps even made them say to themselves "Never again." COmmunal disdernment i~,~[fOiJ[: ~de" }in g women ~ ~or men ~who,brzn~ g together a complement of gifls tha~;~in its ~isimportant for ~he :enti@ ~com~u~ity. Those who participate in discernment are asked to reach deep inside themselves to find hope again, when staying disengaged would be easier. Individually and together they are winners as they extend themselves beyond their comfort zone in response to calls from their community. Conventional politics would suggest that those who are elected have the "right stuff" and those who are not elected do not. Communal discernment, however, is about electing women or men who bring together a complement of gifts that, in its unity, is important for the entire community. 64.3 200Y Dunn ¯ Where Two or More Are Gathered Not long ago my wife and I attended our daughters' graduations, Kelly from high school and Colleen from middle school. For the occasion we went out to buy them some flowers. The florist asked, "What are their colors?" I was taken aback, having expected to pick out bouquets from the showcase and be done with it. She escorted us to a refrigerator, showed us a vast array of flowers, and urged us to have a whiff and take a good look at them. Before long we had flowers and greenery and paper strewn over the counter. Other customers watched us try various combinations to see what would best fit each girl's particular likes and sense of beauty. There were lilacs, roses, and other flowers whose names escape me. In combination, some were not the right color and some not the right fragrance. Some got lost alongside others. All were beautiful in their own right, but some fit better than others in the bouquets. At last we had two unique bouquets, each beautiful, each saying what we wanted to say. In your next communal discernment, remember that every individual has a beauty all her own. Blessed and broken, gifted and flawed, they are on the same journey as you. Some combinations of their beauty will express what you want to say, what you hope leadership to be. Others will not. This makes them no less wonderful, no less worthy. Their beauty will find other bouquets. In your next discernment, honor all these women (or men) with your prayers. Support all of them with your encouragement. Affirm them for their courage in walking deep into discernment with you, opening themselves up in personal ways to you, to each other, and to God. Walk gently with them. Your next chapter of election will be a continuation of the work you have begun at earlier chapters. It presents you with an opportunity to grow in communal discernment and Review for Religious be more faithful on your personal and communal faith journey. Anticipate, identify, and resist any regressive tendencies. Keep the election a matter of the Spirit, not a matter of mere numbers. Do not let it be about winners and losers. You are all winners, for you are all on the same team. Be gentle with yourselves and with your mistakes, for mistakes will surely be made. In your efforts to write new memories on the walls, may the Holy Spirit be your guide, and, where two or more of you are gathered, may you find Jesus in your midst. The Transient Seed To go wherever you would lead Will mean ourselves to die, Forsaking self and every need For you, risen, on high. Buried with you, the transient seed Awaits your Spirit-cry Creating us anew, rubied By blood from Calvary. Walt Bado SJ 64.3 2005 MARIE DE LOURDES MATES Chapter Delegates, Once and Future ~onh~hne m qyu arleigtiieosn aanl dsu rpeesrpioonr saisbkileidti ems eo tfo c shpaepatekr delegates, my response was typically prophetic. I screamed into the phone: "What? Me? Why me? Don't you think I'm a bit too old for this? You're twenty-five years too late! I know a lot of people who could do a better job." She listened politely and then replied, "Well, will you at least think about it?" So I did, and for some reason I just could not say no. Father Robert Morneau's article (1977, almost thirty years ago) was suggested as the basis for what I might say. Since I did not have a copy of it, I began to make my own list of qualities a delegate should have. I came up with a dozen or so. To my surprise, when the article arrived I discovered that the future bishop and I were thinking along the same lines. I thought to myself, "Maybe I should have been a bishop!" Many of you could Marie de Lourdes Mates IHM, who has taught at all levels of K-12 and published various articles, resides at the IHM House of Prayer; 140 West Mill Street; Nesquehoning, Pennsylvania 18240. Review for Religious come up with a similar list. I admit, though, that I learned a great deal in getting this presentation ready and even experienced a kind of conversion. That is what I will share with you now. The first word that came to my mind was articulate. I wanted delegates who would speak out loud and clear. But almost immediately I had a second thought--Whoa! Suppose they go too far and destroy what our unique history has gifted us with. No, another thing that must be present is a listening ear. This slowed me down, and I pondered the word dialogical, which Bishop Morneau had used. I called upon Webster for help: "dialogue: a talking together, a conversation." Not sufficient! Definition 2: "an interchange and discussion of ideas, especially when open and frank, as in seeking mutual understanding and harmony." Perfect! In other words, the listening has to be of a special kind, but so also does the speaking. To be articulate means to speak easily and clearly; you have to be pretty well convinced about what you are saying. Let me interject here a little story about listening. An interaction years ago with a freshman girl stopped me in my tracks and made me realize I was not truly lis-tening. Her parents were divorced. Her father was out of sight. The thirteen-year-old and her mother lived together, but in time the mother became interested in another man. She left her teenage daughter to fend for herself every weekend while she traveled by plane to spend two days with him. When. the daughter told me this story, I tried to explain that her mother had needs also. She looked up at me with tear-filled eyes and said in a shaking voice "But what about me?" I knew at once I had failed to enter into her world. I have never for-gotten her words, and even now they haunt me, still find-ing it hard to really listen. 64.3 200.q Mates ¯ Chapter Delegates, Once and Future Our delegates need to speak easily and clearly, but they also need to listen with a compassionate desire to enter into the speaker's world, not necessarily agreeing but at least understanding. Besides speaking and listen-ing well, Bishop Morneau said delegates must have trust. I thought, "Oh, this is an easy one. Isn't it a given that members of a religious community have a deep abiding trust in each other, as their polite conduct habitually shows? The thing that stymied me was that Morneau went on to say that they must have trust also in themselves. I puzzled over this long and hard. I came to realize that persons who have trust in themselves will speak their own insights and convictions with a certain self-confidence. I realized, too, that to do this they must spend time and energy listening to others and be willing to say inside chapter what they say outside chapter. Coupled with trust is another virtue, desire for truth. Regardless of who speaks--a retired sister, a young novice, a former mother general, an infirm sister, an artist (musician, painter, sculptor, poet, and so forth), or just one of the rest of us--the delegate's desire for truth must help her listen and then evaluate. She needs to turn off the stream of consciousness that runs all day long and sometimes washes past others, hardly slowing down for them. Our delegates should be prophetic persons. The Old Testament prophets acquiesced to God's call only reluc-tantly. Consider the following. Isaiah says, "What a wretched state I'm in. I am a man of unclean lips." Review for Religious Jeremiah says, "Look, I do not know how to speak; I am a child." Jonah--well, he just ran away. But God was insistent. With Isaiah: "Let's see if this live coal touching your lips will help." With Jeremiah: "Don't say you are a child. Go, now!" With Jonah, a storm at sea begins to get him to pay some mind to God. Consider the great-est prophet of all, Jesus: "Father, if it be your will, let this chalice pass. However, not my will, but yours be done." Being prophetic does not appear to be a much-sought- after vocation. I am mentioning these things about prophets because the women we elect as delegates will automatically assume the role of prophet. They will be missioned by us to determine the future direction of our IHM commu-nity. If this direction is to be in accord with the will of God, certain characteristics should be evident. They should be women who are perceptive, sensitive to the here and now. We hope they will walk unshod the way of the lowest and the least. We want them to come up with new and exciting ideas for all of us--the old and infirm, the young and ambitious, those nearing retirement, those changing their apostolates. We want them to respond sensitively to the question "But what about me?" as each group asks it. We also want them to be sensitive to our roots and traditions, knowing enough of our history to stand firmly on the shoulders of the courageous holy women who were here before us. Prophets are courageous. Consider some from our own time. Dorothy Day, who did jail time for civil disobedi-ence and also (as Father Richard McSorley said) "led the way within the Catholic Church on solidarity with the poor, racial justice., all those big issues., she brought the name Catholic to all of them. These issues that pri-vate Catholics see as politics she saw as faith, and knew it had to come from faith and be alive with faith." 64.3 200~ Mates ¯ Cbapter Delegates, Once and Future Consider our foundress, Mother Theresa Maxis, who was forced to live outside the community she had worked so hard to establish. Consider Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who embraced lepers and opened her heart to the poor-est of the poor. Consider Joan Chittister, Benedictine sister, ' whose outcries for justice and peace have been heard and will continue to be heard by many around the world. Perhaps now as we prepare for the chapter of 2006, some new courageous happenings will occur. Courage can be manifested in all kinds of ways. It might be just bringing an issue to the forefront for consideration. It might be putting some relationships in jeopardy because of what some see only as boldness or outspokenness. The model delegate should be a person of vision-- but what exactly does that mean? It definitely does not mean they live in la-la land. Sometimes, however, I think that the term vision triggers a picture of someone out in space. So let us bring it down to earth. Simply, an IHM sister of vision sees something that many do not. That "something" could be anything from a cute idea to a unique dream. It could be something so commonplace as a one-on-one learning environment, only one teacher and one learner. It could be a duck farm. A friend called me one day and asked if she and her cousin could use my computer and set up a conference call with a con-struction company. I said yes, thinking it was a matter of great import. It turned out that he was just starting to plan a duck farm. His long-range plan was to raise ducks for gourmet restaurants. To me this seemed crazy, but when he promised me a duck dinner I thought--who knows?--that maybe in the not-too-distant future he would be a man of means. The sister who has vision will see value in what at first seems crazy to most people. I am suggesting that Review for Religious we have to look beyond the ends of our noses to deter-mine the best direction for our aging community. We need to have some answers for the young, the old, and the in-between in our community when they ask, "But, what about me?" Victor Hugo, author of Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre Dame, had this to say about visions: "Progress will be carried forward by a series of dazzling visions." I love that word "dazzling." The visions have to be startling; they have to awaken us and get us moving. Long before Victor Hugo, the prophet Habakkuk also had something to say about "the vision." I remember it from a time about twenty-five years ago. In her morning talk a speaker had created an air of excitement, but in the after-noon session the excitement disappeared. I left the assem- .,,. Prophetie delegates need t6 be pcrsoqs, of " ,de ray&;: especially script al prayer. bly feeling rather down, but I remembered the words of Habakkuk from the day's Scripture reading. It is time to hear those words again: Write down the vision clearly upon the tablets, so that one can read it readily. For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint. If it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late. (Hab 2:2-3) As I said, being a prophet is not a fun thing. Prophetic delegates have to work hard: read, study, do research. They have to make decisions, some very hard decisions. They have to make them decisively, with cer-titude (as Morneau says, referring to Newman), and then hold themselves responsible for what results. They need to be persons of deep prayer, especially Scriptural prayer. 64.3 200Y Mates ¯ Chapter Delegates, Once and Future Such prayer will illuminate their understanding of con-temporary issues. Dorothy Day can help us here. In her autobiography The Long Loneliness, she describes herself at the age of ten. "We lived in a house with an attic, and I spent hours one rainy Sunday afternoon reading the Bible. I remember nothing that I read, just the sense of holiness in holding the book in my hands. I did not know then that the Word in the Book and the Word in the flesh of Christ's humanity were the same, but I felt I was handling something holy." Dorothy's love of the Scriptures persisted throughout her lifetime and even-tually led to her conversion to Catholicism and to her lifelong work with the poor. Scriptural prayer should be the mainstay of every chapter member. It already plays a major role in all of our lives in the Christian Prayer that we pray three times a day. It would be worth the while of every chapter delegate, in fact every sister who puts her name on the list of nom-inees, to ponder well the words of Hebrews 4:12: "The Word of God is something alive and active: it cuts like any double-edged sword but more finely; it can slip through the place where the soul is divided from the spirit, or joints from the marrow; it can judge the secret emo-tions and thoughts." And then suddenly in verse 13 it switches from the Word of God as an "it" to the Word of God as "the one": "No created thing can hide from him; everything is uncovered and open to the eyes of the one to whom we must give account of ourselves." Dorothy Day at age ten was assuredly an inspired person. You might wonder why I have referred to Dorothy Day more than once. When I was a junior in high school, I joined the Martin de Porres Club at Harrisburg Catholic High. Every Thursday my friends and I traveled to an inner-city house run by a woman named Mary Frecon. There we taught little African American children, helping Review for Religious them with their school work and interacting with them. One Thursday I noticed that the work space was spruced up as if for something important to happen. About the middle of the session, Mary came through accompanied by an elderly woman with white hair. They simply paused for a few minutes, and I simply ignored them, being involved with the children and their work. Afterwards Mary came back and exclaimed, "Do you know who that was?" I shrugged my shoulders. She said, "That was Dorothy Day." I shrugged my shoulders again. Later on in life, I got to know about Dorothy Day. I have never forgotten her favorite quotation, taken directly from Dostoyevsky's The Possessed: "All my life I have been haunted by God." To that I add: All my life I have been haunted by Dorothy Day! To me her life seems the per-fect response to the question of the poor, the addicted, the sick, the helpless when they ask "But what about me?" Morneau ends his article about chapters by portray-ing the delegate as a wounded healer, the term that Henri Nouwen had introduced. Most of us would admit to being wounded people, people who have experienced some deep hurts, which sometimes seem beyond heal-ing. But out of those hurts can come deep compassion for others who are hurting. Without being told, one can sense it. Compassion heals, not only the one to whom the compassion is directed but also the one who is showing compassion. Hopefully, the delegates we choose will be women of compassion. Persons of compassion do not make judgments on the motives of others. If you have ever been the object of judgmentalism, your experience helps you avoid inflicting such destructiveness on others. A delegate should be able to balance tolerance of per-sons with an intolerance of falsity. Do not be dismayed if you are chosen to be a chap-ter delegate and you do not have all these qualities. It 64.3 2005 Mates ¯ Chapter Delegates, Once and Future will be an elegant sufficiency if the chapter assembly itself contains individuals who together have these qual-ities. It would be a miracle if anyone had all of them. Here let me quote, what Morneau quotes toward the end of his article (Micah 6:8): "This is what Yahweh asks of you: only this, to act justly, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly with your God." I would emphas!ze the first challenge: "to act justly." I believe it encompasses everything that has been said up to this point. If we work to act justly, to DO justice, everything else will fall into place. As a community we are already becoming more involved in works of justice. We are responding to the poor and the needy here in the United States and in Haiti, Peru, and Chile. We are attentive to the question "But what about me?" and are alleviating pain and suffering where we are able. One day in Louisville, Kentucky, at Fourth and Locust, Thomas Merton suddenly realized that he loved all people and no one was alien to him. As a community we are growing in that same realization. For me there occurred a profound conversion to justice in the sum-mer of 1973, while I was studying physics at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, New York. One weekend a Franciscan sister took me along to her motherhouse in Buffalo. We visited Niagara Falls, and I was duly impressed. But later we drove upstream to view the Niagara River, the flow of which creates the falls--and mesmerized me. The river's swiftness took my breath away. The sunlight glittering off the surging waters filled me with a kind of supernatural joy, while their force to sweep everything before it--and me too if I let it--fright-ened me. I have never forgotten that impression. The memory awakes in me every time I read the prophet Amos (5:24, l~SV):."But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." Review for Religious Can you imagine what our world would be like if more and more people let their justice roll down like a river? For us I think the time is ripe. Let's ROLL! The Crossing John 6:17 The crossing is hazardous: fragility 6fold wood in a fretful sea, the weight of oars against contentious waves, implacable darkness, absence of horizon, ominous thunders. Then - the skin grows cold with terror - like a brooding spirit he comes gravely across the water: fathomless radiance, first light of a new world. They stammer in recognition and welcome him into the boat where no one dares question what darkness he has crossed to bring them safe to land. Kate Martin OSC 64.3 2005 MELANNIE SVOBODA Community Chapters: Seven Personal Beliefs y personal beliefs about this chapter we are ~. iv .1. beginning amount to seven, the perfect biblical number. 1. This chaplet won't be easy. I say this not because I have some secret knowledge of what will transpire here these next few days. I say it because this chapter is a part of life and life is not easy. As we know, in the Bible the primary image of life is a journey, and any journey is fraught with difficulties. It takes courage even to embark on a journey, because we must leave where we are, we must let go of the known. We cannot start on a journey and stay put at the same time. Once we have taken to the road, we must negotiate unexpected turns, steer clear of dangerous potholes, plan regular "pit stops," devise detours around roadblocks, interpret road signs, and check the fuel gauge regularly. (Recently I saw a cartoon of two men walking away from their car. They had run Melannie Svoboda SND, provincial of the Sisters of Notre Dame of Chardon, Ohio, presented this material as part of the opening of their chapter of December 2003. Her address is 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. Review for Religious out of gas. One man says to the other, "I thought the E meant Enough!" It is one thing to see signs, another to interpret them correctly!)Journeying is hard work. Small wonder that we are often tempted to forsake the life journey by going back into the past (it is familiar and feels safe), by stopping altogether, or by taking a side road that is easier but leads to no place worth going. At this chapter let us recommit ourselves to the hard work of daily living, to the hard work of our earthly jour-neying. And let us commit ourselves to the hard work of this particular chapter--four days of undeniable self-discipline, the discipline of sitting, listening, speaking, praying, discerning, waiting in line. Talk about modern asceticism! 2. This chapter will be fun. It will be fun because we are here--and just look at us! What a unique group we are! Has God got a sense of humor or what? This chapter will be fun because where we are there is bound to be some joy and laughter. When we did the recent inter-views for the Appreciative Inquiry, how many of us said that one reason we were drawn to the Sisters of Notre Dame in the first place was their joyfulness! This chap-ter will be fun also because the planning committee has thought up some fun activities for us to do. But, most of all, it will be fun because we know who is ultimately in charge of this chapter. Not me, not our facilitator, but God! Yes, at this chapter we will discuss some seri-ous issues. Yes, we will make some serious decisions. Yes, there may even be a few tears as we try to express what is deepest in our hearts. But I hope we will do the work of this chapter with a lightness of heart that comes from our charism: that deep experience of God's goodness and provident care. Jesus is at this chapter. Maybe we should have made a folder with his name on it, Jesus is here in word, in 64.3 2005 Svoboda ¯ Community Chapters 254 sacrament, in each other. It is in Jesus' name that we are gathered here, and, as Jesus promised, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I will be!" Jesus is with us. Emmanuel. That fact cannot help but bring smiles to our faces! 3. This chapter needs me. This chapter needs every sis-ter regardless of her age, education, health, ministry, temperament, background, mood. It needs every sister regardless of her chosen level of participation. In the name of all of us, then, I welcome every sister to speak. And I welcome every sister to listen and to pray. Throughout these days we will have times of formal dis-cussion. But we will also have times of informal sharing as we gather around the coffee urn, eat lunch together, meet in the hall, or ride back and forth in a car. The Spirit can use even these times to move hearts. Perhaps I may never say anything at the open mike, but I can still influence this chapter by some.thing I say in my small group or even while standing in line for the restroom. 4. This chapter must be rooted in the real world. God is found only in the real world--not some fantasy world of our own making. No, in the real world. And what does the real world look like? First of all, it is a world of incomparable beauty--from stars to snowflakes, roses to mountains, sunsets to the Grand Canyon. So much beauty! It is a world filled with innumerable people of goodwill--in all lands, in all cultures--people who live their lives with faith and love. But the real world is also a world steeped in war and violence. Historians tell us the 20th century was the bloodiest century in human his-tory. Ours is a world of the obscenely unfair distribu-tion of the world's limited resources--where 1.2 billion people live on less than one dollar a day. The Jesuit Jon Sobrino calls this reality a "macro blasphemy." It is a world filled with hunger, poverty, greed, corruption, and Review for Religious wanton disregard for the sanctity of human life. I could go on. But, the fact remains, this is the world into which Jesus was born over two thousand years ago, the world in which he still lives. And it is the world he calls us to serve today. This chapter, therefore, must acknowledge both the beauty and the ugliness of the real world. It must take into consider-ation both the light and the darkness in the world--the world not only out there, but the world in here, in °,. ,,. ~ .~' .' our community and in our own hearts. We began our chapter with a reconciliation service. That was no accident. May forgiveness and rec-onciliation be an underlying theme of everything we do here these days--and beyond. 5. This chapter can't do everything, but it must do some-thing. When we contemplate all the needs of the world, we can become overwhelmed. So many voices crying out for help! Yet our resources are so limited. At times the inces-sant cry of the poor can even paralyze us. We can find ourselves crying, "We can't do everything!" And that is true. We cannot. But, for God's sake, let us do something. I believe this chapter will do something. I do not know what, but it will. That something might be the passing of a proposal dear to my heart--or the defeat of one I cher-ish. Maybe this chapter will result in a single step in a new direction or an old one. Or maybe this chapter will begin to name the content of our next province plan, the focus of future province summer assemblies, or the agenda for the next provincial leadership team. Whatever this chapter does, I hope and pray it will result in some definite corporate movement forward. But °our chapter i ith recOnciliation service? 64.3 2005 Svoboda ¯ Community Chapters I also hope this chapter will challenge me on a deeply personal level. I hope it will make demands upon me, stretch my thinking, and cause me to question some of my daily choices--and cause me to alter them in per-haps subtle but very real ways. 6. This chapter will not be perfect. That is because we are not perfect. And imperfect people do not a perfect chapter make! Sometimes I hear sisters say, "I don't expect much from this chapter, because all we do is talk about the same stuff over and over again. I'm tired of it!" Well, I'm not! I am not tired of the fact that we often end up talking about the "same stuff"--like community, ministry, prayer, the vows, mission. I am not surprised or disappointed either, because that "stuff" lies at the very core of our identity as women religious. The way I see it, we will always be talking about these things--we should be! Why? Because we are on a journey, and, as we go forward, life will continuously challenge our under-standing of who we are and what we should be about. Could we ever exhaust the topic of prayer? No. Will we ever be "finished" with mission? No. Will we ever be able to say, "Well, we have no more problems with community living." Or, "Well, we've got poverty down pat now, so let's move on to something else. How about chastity?" No. In the novel The Secret Life of Bees, August, a middle-aged black woman, says to the little girl Lily, "There is nothing perfect. There is only life." We could say something similar: there is no perfect chapter. There is only this chapter. The feast of Christmas reminds us that Jesus came into our broken and messy world. He did not wait for the ideal time to come. Let us not let our hopes for the ideal chapter prevent us from doing some-thing good with this real one. 7. This chapter must be about loving. Let there be no mistake: we are gathered here these four days for one Review for Religious purpose only: to become better lovers. That is the bot-tom line. This chapter must help us to love better the incredible God who seduced each one of us into mak-ing a lifelong commitment of "chastity, poverty, and obe-dience according to the spirit and content of the Constitutions of the Sisters of Notre Dame." God seduced us. I know of no better word to describe the experience we all underwent. As consecrated religious we have the duty to keep ourselves in this ardent, pas-sionate, and dangerous state of loving. May this chapter rekindle our wholehearted and reck-less love for God, for Jesus. May it remind us that we are partners with Jesus in his mission--not because we have signed up for a cause, but because we have said a loving yes to a person. May this chap-ter rekindle our love for the. church. Oh, the church! Our poor, poor church! The terri-ble scandals! The unspeakable crimes! The betrayal, the deceit! But may we remember that this church is still our church. It is still Christ's church. As Archbishop Sean O'Malley, of Boston, said at his installation ceremony, "though we are living through a ~ad chapter in the church's history, we must recall that it is a chapter, not the whole book!" And then he said these profound words: "We come here today to ask God to make our pain redemptive." What fitting words for us, as Sisters of Notre Dame who have a 153-year-old history of being marked by the cross and a 153-year-old tradition of loy-alty to the church. And, finally, may this chapter rekindle our love and devotion to one another. May it remind us that, by mak- , H'a~v .e. .w. e :ever tho:u g h t ¯of a chapter as having onepuNoseonlY) :to become ,better.lovers ? 64.3 200Y Svoboda * Community Chapters ing our vows, we have bound ourselves to one another for the term of our whole lives. We have promised to live religious life not in the abstract, but within this partic-ular, concrete congregation, the Sisters of Notre Dame. For most of us that means being embedded in the province of Christ the King of Chardon, Ohio. We live in a culture that deifies privacy, individualism, and con-trol of one's destiny. Such a culture desperately needs our witness of community, the witness of diverse indi-viduals living and working together--selflessly and joy-fully-- in Jesus' name to bring about the kingdom of God. My final prayer is a simple one. May this chapter rekindle in us the hope-filled daring of St. Julie, of Sister Aloysia, and of those countless sisters who have gone before us. And may our hope-filled daring be an inspi-ration for those Sisters of Notre Dame who will come after us--in whatever country they may be. In his apos-tolic exhortation Vita consecrata (§110), Pope John Paul says these words to us: "You have not only a glorious history to remember and recount, but also a great history to be accomplished." May this chapter be one small step toward the accomplishment of that great history. 258 Reflection Questions 1. What are the personal beliefs I would list about an upcoming chapter in my congregation? 2. What are some of the ways that we, could bring a sense of joy and a sense of passion into the ordinary busi-ness of a chapter? Review for Religious MARIE BRINKMAN Invisible-- Even to Ourselves? It comes as something of a shock to learn that some people of the Catholic faith community do not know what we are up to--we women reli-gious, that is. Engrossed in ministry as we are most of the time and in close touch with asso-ciates, colleagues, and other friends who by now take for granted our attire and our social or pro-fessional habits, we hardly realize that some still wonder where we have gone or why we live as we do.~ Others see almost nothing of our pre-sent community life or our ministries born of renewal, for we have made ourselves invisible. Unless they happen to know one or two us per-sonally, young women see little of the differ-ence we make to the church and less to attract them to the vowed life we lead. This is a claim many of us might question or debate, but few young women are knocking at our doors to give themselves to our enterprise. ] 259 I :. Marie Brinkman SCL wrote for us in 1971 and 2001. She may be addressed at Sisters of Charity; 4200 South Fourth Street; Leavenworth, Kansas 66048. 64.3 2005 Brinlrman * Invisible ~ Even to Ourselves? I want a other generation Of sisters for the ture mission and life of our community? This is not the place or time to raise moot questions about discarded religious symbolism. Options have been made available, freedom to discern how we will dress and where or with whom we will live in relation to ministries that we believe witness to the gospel. Yet, forty years after the beginning of our renewal, people ask if we are going to survive as vowed communities or congregations. How have we failed to convey to ,:~ them that we are not only alive and well but also are planning for a future even more vigorous and effective than our past? Given our reduced numbers and what some perceive as a disappear-ing act, that may sound like a pipe dream: Women's intu-ition, unreliable. Wishful thinking. Plain presumption. We stand open to such charges, but we do not accept them. Our young sisters are realists and pose questions of their own. Let me mention a few I encountered as we. were preparing for our sixteenth general chapter. In the reports from the council, from task forces, and from standing committees, notes from sisters fifty-five and younger were given careful attention. Calling themselves "Between Alpha and Omega," these sisters--who stand between the community's past and future--asked about the quality of community life, the diffusion of ministries, and a "visioning process" for looking at our future. A few paradoxes appeared as well as concerns we should all share. Repeatedly they asked for direction from com-munity leadership. ¯ Does the small size of local houses limit choices of how we can live in community? Review for Religious ¯ Are local communities willing to support a new kind of associate program allowing young people to live with some of us for a limited or extended time? ¯ How can we envision the future of relationships between SCLs and HCLs (our North American sis-ters and our hermanas of Latin America) and between our sponsored works and new ministries? That is, how can we deepen our unity of mission?2 Questions from the Associate Program director sug-gest the need for greater unity with the laity with whom we have intentionally allied ourselves for the past twenty years. Ties have been forged, and leadership within our institutions has been handed over; the identity and roles of our 180 associates are not so clear. One of them asked me how they might become more aware of the issues we face in chapter and beyond. That suggests a need for better communication and stronger collaboration with our associates--a stage other communities have already reached and gone beyond.3 A fundamental question the director of vocation min-istry posed to chapter delegates was a challenge that implied more than prayer and moral support. She asked us to ask ourselves: "Do I want another generation of sis-ters for the future mission and life of our community?" A firm yes in reply would bring a pledge to tithe a percent-age of time for the effort. Extrapolating from her recom-mendations suggests ways of committing time and talent. For example, the communication office for promotion of religious life in every channel of the media could draw on the volunteer services of active retired sisters. Houses of hospitality throughout the community could use the services of partially employed or volunteer sisters.4 A startling question came from the director of ini-tial formation, speaking in chapter on behalf of the fifty-five- and-under group. She wondered whether we realize 64.3 200~ Brinkman ¯ Invisible --Even to Ourselves? that, as women religious deepening our renewal of mis-sion and ministry, we are living "on the fringe" of the church in its present hierarchical operation,s Given facts from which the question comes, I would have replied that on the contrary we are at the heart of the church renewing itself. It is a matter of perspective, but I think she is the more realistic about the present and a consid-erable piece of the future. During a chat after an inter-congregational gathering, a novice, expressing what she felt, said in effect: "Where's our vision? Let's not be dis-tracted by a future of diminishing numbers and advanc-ing age. I want to hear us talk about the present and our potential and what we can do now to make a new future come to be.''6 She wondered whether so many small dwellings and so little cultural diversity can offer com-munity to new members. That is the voice of new life and promise. That is the echo of our founders, who knew nothing but risk and challenge. What they did we can do on new frontiers and in new ways. In her report a community councilor considered our progress in living out the vision statement of the 1998 general chapter, pledging us "to love the poor, to love one another, to live simply, and to unite the whole of our lives in the poor and loving Christ." Some of her questions challenged us to assess our lives in the light of priorities we have set for ourselves: to partner with the poor for mutual transformation, to simplify our lives in the spirit of our founders, and to make our local com-munity a welcoming experience and genuine support for each member--rather than a comfort to ourselves. Other questions challenged us to deeper awareness of what globalization has brought to the poor, to all our ministries, and to the life and mission of the church. They asked us to examine what "gospel values" and "work for systemic change" mean--in terms, for example, Review for Religious of personal and house budgets. They asked if we wish to--or even can--remain an ethnically homogenous group in the face of cultural diversity that is literally changing the face of the country we live in. Does our advocacy for the poor change us as it should?7 The councilor's questions carried implications. We may not be aware of who we really are or have become. Deeply different experiences of religious life and com-munity living divide us even within our day-to-day unity. The reconciliation we struggled to achieve during renewal chapters allows for a degree of hid-den complacency. Different perspectives on how our ministries--individual and community-sponsored-- manifest our mission may hinder further transforming action. Do we know what we are capable of and to what the Spirit now calls us? It is only fair to remark here that the chapter confronted these and other prob-ing questions persistently and with no little vision and courage. Writing the story of our community's last fifty years, I have learned something of the potential residing in institutions we sponsor and in various ways still staff. Their growth over these decades of diminishment reveals what women have always done in times of retrenchment: put people first, get purposes clear, find means where there were none, and never take no for an answer. The deluge of facts and figures took shape in patterns of change and renewal that most congrega- 64.3 2005 Brinkman ¯ Invisible -- Even to Ourselves? tions could duplicate or surpass. They include: ¯ mergers and coordinated systems of parochial schools, moving from strength of programs into lay administra-tion and staffing, and continuing commitment to under-served or inner-city areas ¯ the maturing of a small liberal-arts college for women into a coeducational university offering baccalaureate and masters' degrees to working adults, getting under-prepared minority students ready for college, educating youth to service ¯ incorporation of hospitals--regional leaders in health-care-- under a centralized health-services system com-mitted to community education and the care of all persons in need regardless of their ability to pay ¯ operating clinics staffed by sister or lay administrators and volunteer professionals to serve uninsured families and individuals ¯ transforming homes for parentless children into com-plex professional partnerships for treatment, care, and schooling of emotionally disturbed youngsters in both residential and day programs ¯ staffing missions in Latin America through forty years of growth into native leadership in formation and expan-sion of catechetical and healthcare ministries. As separate incorporation and lay boards for hospitals, homes, and the unive~'sity became advisable and advan-tageous, community sponsorship maintained the charism of the Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth through strong programs of mission integration. Certainly such collab-orationand continued presence in institutions that serve cities, states, and regions affirm an identity and confirm a religious mission. Are numbers, uniform dress, and common quarters necessary for recognition and symbolic significance to those who care anything about it? If not, what then is lacking? Why are those who retain such out- Review for Religious ward signs drawing young candidates, and why are we who faithfully minister without them relatively invisible? Individual ministries have witnessed to the gospel and offered religious presence in unprecedented ways during the last four decades. Pastoral ministry drew early numbers; women took leading roles in liturgical renewal, youth ministry, and the adaptation of the RCIA to cate-chesis and religious formation. Degrees in theology, min-istry, and canon law led sisters to chancery offices and marriage tribunals, to social services and diocesan hous-ing, and to spiritual direction and retreat centers. Choices of hospital chaplaincy, ministry to the dying and their families, guidance in holistic health, and counseling of delinquents, single parents, and families meant personal encounters that called on a deep prayer life and com-munity bonds. More rare but equally demanding have been calls to scholarship, writing, and the creative arts. Potentially paradigmatic in their effectiveness and extent are individual ministries to AIDS patients, admin-istration of mission and even city parishes in the West, and repair and renovation of houses for poor families in urban areas. Partnering with civic agencies is integral to such ministries. Our Office of Social Justice and Peace has allied our communi~ for these thirty years with the lobbying forces of Network, with religious and lay groups committed to creating a sustainable environment and combating systemic poverty and oppression, and with the humanitarian offices of the United Nations. Such collaboration is common to most religious congrega-tions. The community's leadership has allied us with the Charity Federation and the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) in their proactive agendas of renewal and mission. All of these ministries and alliances are familiar to professed religious. To allude to them is to make a point, 64.3 2005 Brinkman ¯ Invisible --Even to Ourselves? 266 namely, that the renewed unity of mission and ministry that many now seek and a renewed visibility in service to the church consist in much more than celebrating our differences and prioritizing our use of limited resources. Our unity and visibility consist, on the other hand, in more than freedom to diversify our ministries in part-nering with the poor. Making our mission and commu-nity manifest requires that we discern the Spirit's call to all women religious who believe that in their unity the people of God have a unique source of power. Our vis-ible unity must become the sign of Christ and his church that religious life is meant to be. Our unity is a crucial response to the Spirit, whose power alone can transform the church and turn back the global tide of cultural enmity and systematized violence. One of the foundations for our own faith in our future is the solid work of renewal that has continued through decades of loss and diminishment and through a period of relative immaturity in dealing with new free-doms to dress, drive, reside, and relax as we chose. This renewal effort hungers for deeper prayer life while seek-ing more effective channels of action. This renewal effort calls for community bonds that will hold firm across dis-tances and separations. Once realized, it is communion, the ultimate grace of vowed life on earth. The unity we seek requires deliberate decisions like these, adaptable to our individual communities: ¯ To find common ground for all our ministries, individ-ual and communal, in the church's mission to transform social and economic structures of oppression into resources of human growth. This means conscious commitment to uncover and combat causes of the suffering we constantly work to alleviate. ¯ To create a community culture that is welcoming and visible to young women who may desire to live and work Review for Religious with us for varying periods of time as associates com-mitted to the gospel. This means opening certain con-vents to women of various ethnic and educational backgrounds willing to learn of our charism and mission without seeking a vowed life. ¯ To make of our community communications a min-istry (rather than simply sources of information), a min-istry that lets our various publics know that all our ministries are part of the broad mission of the church on earth. Admirable models of print and electronic media exist that show salaried personnel and volunteer workers dedicatedly pursuing the goals of the religious commu-nities that own or sponsor the various large or small institutions and initiatives. ¯ To seek new ways of bringing gospel values into the national conversation: new forms of education at all lev-els (like the Jesuits' Cristo Rey schools), or public lec-tures and dialogue inspired by the community's mission (like the Benedictines' Atchison Threshold or the Global Institute at Leavenworth's University of Saint Mary). This means collaborating imaginatively and being will-ing to take some risks. ¯ To seek collaborators among associates, alumni/ae, and other friends for ventures into the public arena that do not depend on financial support or common allegiances. This means engaging partners as Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac and other founders of apostolic con-gregations did, perfecting the art of bridge building between those with means and those without. ¯ To create offices of mission and ministry that assist sisters in transition or nearing retirement to discern where best to contribute their services, within commu-nity- sponsored institution( or in partnership with sisters and associates in other activities that can use their help. This may well mean active/retirement residences for the 64.~ 200~ Brinkman * Invisible ~ Even to Ourselves? mutual support of those more active and less active. If we energetically choose some paths like these to a renewed unity of mission and ministry in our communi-ties, a new visibility will surely follow. Notes t A case in point is John Fialka's Sisters: Catholic Nuns and the Making of America (St. Martin's Press) and Ken Woodward's review in the New York Times Book Review. 2 Sister Elizabeth Youngs SCL, "Between Alpha and Omega," Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth Report for the Sixteenth Chapter, June 2004, pp. 117-119. 3 Sister Sharon Smith SCL, "Associates Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth," in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 105-107. 4 Sister Sharon Smit,h SCL, "Vocation Ministry," in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 99-101. s Sister Mary Beth Minges SCL, "Initial Formation. 1998-2004," in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 102-104. 6 Conversation with Sister Erica Berg SCL, May 2004. 7 Report from Sister Constance Phelps SCL, community councilor 1998-2004, in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 16-25. ,Review for Religious DORIS GOTTEMOELLER Living in Community: Continuing the Conversation Scix years ago I published an article titled "Living in ommunity: Beginning the Conversation." In it I suggested that the unwillingness or inability of contem-porary religious congregations to discuss this aspect of our way of life may well be our Achilles' heel, the point of vulnerability that diminishes our integrity and threat-ens our future. The article included some definitions, theological underpinnings for community living, sup-portive spiritual practices, reflections on the role of lead-ership in creating and sustaining community, and some special challenges.1 The dozens of responses to this article that I received from readers in the United States and abroad convince me that I touched on a neuralgic point. I would say the responses fall into three categories: (1) Yes, you have touched on a vital topic, tell us what to do; (2) Yes, you have touched on a vital topic, but it is too late--we have lost too much to ever regain a commitment to commu- Doris Gottemoeller RSM last wrote for us in our 62.2 issue of 2003. Her address remains Catholic Healthcare Partners; 615 Elsinore Place; Cincinnati, Ohio 45202. 64.3 200Y Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community nity living; and (3) No, you do not know what you are talking about; it is the wrong issue and the wrong premise. In these pages I would like to dialogue with these groups. "Tell Us What to Do" The first two groups affirm the significance of com-munity living, but seek direction for its revitalization, so I will respond to them together. Several authors offer helpful insights. In a talk given to the National Religious Vocation Conference Study Days in September 1999, Nancy Schreck OSF addressed "The forces that push us toward and pull us away from community.''2 She begins with the assumption that community involves persons living together in shared space with shared resources, not in order to re-create family relationships, but in order to create the possibility of a radical following of Jesus. She develops a force field analysis in which com-peting forces or energies impinge on the reality of com-munity. The driving forces that she identifies include cosmic awareness, the struggle with diversity, the need for prophetic witness, the action of the Spirit, the iden-tity of religious life, mission effectiveness, a new desire in the members, the desire of new members, and lim-ited resources. The forces that move against community include paradigm paralysis, U.S. mainstream culture, patriarchal influence, drift, lowest-common-denomina-tor performance, adjustments made in good faith, lack of need, lack of energy, community as an event, ability of members, public witness, the asceticism of personal growth, and participation in multiple communities. This is not the place to analyze these competing forces. They are, however, part of the ambiance of religious life today, and have to be taken into consideration in any effort to energize community living. Her article could be a won- Review for Religious derful starting point for a conversation in any local com-munity or congregation. Another analysis of the current reality comes from women religious under fifty in their newsletter Giving VOICE. The December 1999 issue addresses this topic in a number of thoughtful reflections) The editor, Jan Hayes RSM, reports that the editorial team received "an avalanche" of responses to the questions: How do you define community? Does it include communal living or doesn't it? VVhat is your experience of communal living? VV-hat is it that you bring to group living situ-ations? What is it that you need? Does communal liv-ing add to the vitality of the larger community or doesn't it? Is communal living still an integral part Do ,we findit~ helpful to compare' the loosening of communal bonds: in American society tO the ~ame phenomenon in 'women's ,religious life ? of religious life? Space precludes summarizing all of the excellent contributions on this issue, both in the articles and in the comments received from emails and letters to the editor. The overall tenor of the contributions, however, affirms the centrality of communal living to the sisters' understanding of their vocation and their desire to grow in this dimension of their life. The sociologist Mary Johnson SNDdeN addressed the issue in these pages in her article titled "Bowling Alone, Living Alone: Current Social Contexts for Living the Vows.''4 She responds to an article by Robert D. Putnam titled "Bowling Alone: America's Declining Social Capital"S and to my earlier article. Putnam's the-sis is that there has been a .loosening of communal bonds across U.S. society in the last thirty years. His provoca- 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community 272 five title comes from his observation that persons tend to bowl alone or in small groups today, rather than joining leagues, which require regular attendance. He has pre-sented this viewpoint in Vghite House conferences and national workshops and in other publications as well, and he has been quoted frequently. In Putnam's analysis, communal bonds, norms, and networks constitute "social capital" that facilitates coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit. He cites evidence of decline in religious involvement, labor-union membership, involvement in parent-teacher associations, and volunteering in civic, fraternal, and women's organizations like the Red Cross, the Boy Scouts, the Shriners, the Jaycees, and the League of Women Voters. He acknowledges that groups like the Sierra Club, the National Organization for Women, and the American Association of Retired Persons have seen a dramatic rise in membership in recent decades. But, as Johnson notes, while the political clout of these orga-nizations is considerable, the nature of involvement is vastly different from the organizations discussed previ-ously. Putnam says: "For the vast majority of their mem-bers (Sierra, NOW, AARP, and so forth), the only act of membership consists of writing a check for dues or per-haps occasionally reading a newsletter. Their ties, in short, are to common symbols, common leaders, and perhaps common ideals, but not to one another. From the point of view of social connectedness, the Environmental Defense Fund and a bowling league are just not in the same category." Similarly, Johnson adds, "a group of friends that meets quarterly, a prayer group that meets monthly, and a support group that meets weekly are just not in the same category as a c.ommunity that lives under the same roof and interacts daily." Johnson goes on to compare the loosening of communal bonds in American society to Review for Religious the same phenomenon in women's religious life. As evi-dence she cites research findings, funded by the Lilly Foundation, from a national survey of women who entered apostolic, monastic, and evangelical orders since 1965. Her data, based on responses from 70 percent of the women's institutes (whose membership constitutes 84 percent of the sisters in the United States), indicate that 69 percent of religious houses consist of one or two sisters. When asked "If you had your preference right now, with how many sisters would you prefer to live?" these post-Vatican II sisters responded as follows: with none (11%); with one other sister (14%), with two other sisters (12%); in a group of 4-7 sisters (45%); in a group of 8-10 sisters (6%); in a group of 11-15 sisters (2%); in a group of 16-20 sisters (4%); in a group of more than 20 sisters (6%). The gap between what sisters experience and what they would prefer is intriguing. No doubt the restrain-ing forces cited by Schreck above would help explain the disparity. There is much more in Johnson's article, but overall she believes that "the work of sharply defining and rebuilding community is essential to the mission and future of apostolic religious life in the United States and other nations where religious life struggles to free itself from the hegemonic hold of middle-class values." This probably summarizes the opinion of most of the respon-dents in this first group. Now to another viewpoint. "Wrong Issue, Wrong Premise" The most explicit argument is voiced by Barbara Fiand SNDdeN in Refocusing the Vision: Religious Life into the Future.6 In chapter 4 she differs strongly with Johnson and me (pp. 147-149). Citing both of our articles, she accuses us of a bias toward living together and a "high-handed" rejection of other experiences, saying that some- 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community thing new is evolving from the grassroots which needs to be taken into consideration. Because of the diversity of living situations today, she says, "the whole tenor of what used to be called 'community living' has changed." She adds that the alleged desire of potential new members for residential community living needs to be probed fur-ther lest it be mistaken for an adequate reason for becom-ing a religious. Finally, she suggests that Johnson's bias toward community living prejudices her as a professional investigator. Fiand seems to believe--as do others with whom I have spoken--that promoting communal living today would be an example of restorationism, a regrettable regression into some prerenewal version of religious life. It is regarded as giving way to nostalgia, a selective mem-ory about the benefits and joys of living together. Nostalgia screens out, she says, the struggles and dys-functions that were part of the reality. In response I would suggest that to restore an earlier practice with a renewed understanding of its value and with suitable adaptation to changing circumstances can be a valuable retrieval. Others object to efforts to restore community living on historical grounds. They charge that women religious lived "in community" only because the hierarchical church imposed this on us. Or, similarly, they say that something which was essential to monastic life was inap-propriately required of evangelical and apostolic reli-gious life as well. This objection would require substantial historical research. Investigation would prob-ably show, for example, that the Council of Trent's effort to insist on cloister for women's religious orders was widely resisted, as much by bishops as by women them-selves, since the works entrusted to them required the ability to be out and among the people. Cloister or papal Review for Religious enclosure, of course, is not what today's supporters of communal living envision for their apostolic lives. Investigation would probably also show that various founders from the 16th century to the present have had different ideas about the significance and modality of community living, and so the research would need to make a congregation-by-congregation review. The most neuralgic point in any discussion of com-munity living is whether a congregation should express and promote any norms around living "in common," that is, in groups of two or more. The most helpful resource here is Sandra Schneiders IHM's treatment of the issue in Selling All: Commitment, Consecrated Celibacy, and Community in Catholic Religious Life.7 The premise and context of her discussion is life in a "mobile ministerial religious congregation." Her thesis is that community life, "an intrinsic and constitutive dimension of minis-terial religious life, is theologically necessary for all mem-bers of the congregation, but that it can be embodied on the personal level in a plurality of lifestyles, both group and individual, which are related to each other as equally valid variations, not as legitimate to aberration, normative to exceptional, or superior to inferior" (p. 350, italics added). Specifically, she discusses congregational group living. (pp. 317-330) and three varieties of indi-vidual living. She defines each and spells out the cir-cumstances which may prompt it and the major advantages and challenges each brings. The three forms of individual living are living singly (pp. 330-335), living alone (pp. 336-339), and living in solitude (pp. 339-349). The first is the case of someone who would not choose individual living, but is compelled to do so by educational, ministerial, or personal respon-sibilities (such as the care of aging parents). Vghen the circumstances change, persons in this category are likely 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community 276t 7 ~ to return to group living. The second is the case of some-one who is self-marginalized, on a sort of exclaustration without going through the formalities. This is the per-son who probably has not been seen at a community event in anyone's memory. The third form of individual living is the case of per-sons who seek and choose solitude for their own spiritual development and psychological health. Schneiders describes them as neither alienated nor estranged, but deeply committed and actively involved, perhaps even holding congregational leadership posts. They are fully accountable to congregational leadership in regard to finances, ministry, and personal lifestyle; they are fre-quently involved in very demanding ministries; they are actively committed to the justice agenda. My observation about sisters in this third category is that they are the very persons with whom I would like to share community living and that, for every one of them who opts for solitary living, there is one less com-panion available to those who desire healthy group liv-ing. And so I do not agree with Schneiders that the choice to live individually is without consequence for the rest of the group, or that a norm favoring group liv-ing would be inappropriate. Each member's choice enlarges or diminishes options for others. The more often healthy and active sisters choose to live alone, the more the impression may be given that those who choose to live together are immature, dependent, and nonre-newed. Creating the Future What are some considerations for sisters who want to break through the hesitancy and silence that surround the issue of community living? Here are four sugges-tions. First, the venue for choice of a norm around com- Review for Religious munity living is the congregational chapter. By the very nature of what is involved--an authoritative interpreta-tion of the commitment to community--an individual sister or small group of sisters cannot be determinative. As with any norm, interpretations in specific cases and exceptions for specific individuals can be made by the leadership. This authority to interpret the Rule and to apply it in specific circumstances is one of the highest obligations of leadership. If done sensitively and consis-tently, it will build up the common good and respond to individual needs. Exceptions, then, will not detract from the clarity of the ideal embraced by the membership and the good-faith efforts to strive toward the ideal. Second, congregations will legitimately differ in their interpretation of their commitment. Their history, tra-ditions, and present circumstances may prompt some to choose the norm of living in common, others of living singly, and others of honoring individual choice. Clarity about what the normative interpretation of community is may lead to less diversity in lifestyle within a congre-gation and more diversity among congregations. This clarity should be valuable in describing a congregation to the larger church and to potential new members. Third, in discerning their choice around community living, each congregation should factor in how its choice influences its practice of poverty, of obedience, of celibacy, of prayer, and of ministry. Each of these ele-ments of religious life is meant to interact with the oth-ers to create a synergistic whole. How is a communal spirituality built up through the daily efforts of the mem-bers? How is the sharing of goods implied by poverty realized in practice? And so forth. In a way the manner of community living chosen creates a template for the realization of each of the other elements. The discern-ment should also project the possible impact of the 277 ¯ 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community 278] choice into the future. What will be the possible impact of the congregation's present choice a generation from now? Fourth, the congregation's choice of a norm around community living must be supported by appropriate resources, both material and spiritual. If it is true that forty-five percent of sisters desire to live in groups of four to seven, and this is consistent with the congrega-tion's norm, then housing must be found to make that possible. The loss of parish convents is one of the factors that led to the drift into individual living, and apart-ments will seldom accommodate more than two people. Of course, the investment in living space requires a good-faith commitment on the part of groups to use the space. Congregational leadership has to invite and promote the dialogues that lead to these choices. Leaders .also have to make available other resources, such as materials for group prayer and ritual, occasional group facilitation, intervention in crisis situations, and a general climate of encouragement and support. The intention in pursuing this conversation is not to simplify what is a very complex issue, having historical, cultural, sociological, and theological dimensions. Nor is it to minimize the experience of anyone living religious life today. Rather, the purpose is to call attention to a principal dimension of religious life and to invite a cor-porate discernment. Few questions cut closer to the real-ity of a congregation's identity than its norm or lack of norm around community living. Attempts at dialogue are sometimes stalled by the prospect of choosing between ministry and community living, with the assumptions that members cannot be expected to bring energy to both and that ministry is to be preferred. A better perspective would be to view both ministry and community as equally valuable expressions Review for Religiozts of mission, each strengthening the other. The presence of adults living together in simplicity and harmony, shar-ing prayer, hospitality, and the duties and struggles of daily living, is an uncommon and striking witness to the power of the gospel and the dynamism of a congrega-tion's charism, so much so that it deserves to be called a prophetic stance. Six years ago I closed with the phrase that is the sub-title of the Vatican document on community, "The Love of Christ Gathers Us into Unity." This phrase captures the motive and dynamism of community life. Only the love of Christ is enough to support and sustain this way of life. Love attracts and gathers us. The process is never finished, always calling us to greater unity, greater gen-erosity, greater zeal. We will all fall short of this ideal, but it is one that will never be approached unless it is artic-ulated in behavioral expectations appropriate to a con-gregation's charism and mission. Notes ~ Review for Religious 58, no. 2 (March-April 1999): 137-149. See also my article "Community and Communion: Making the Connections," Review for Religious 60, no. 2 (March-April 2001): 139-151. 2 Horizon, Spring 2000, 7-15. 3 Giving VOICE 1, no. 3 (December 1999). Contributors include Denise Starkley OP, "Community: An Essential Part of Charism"; Rayleen Giannotti RSM, "A Common Life and a Vibrant Spirituality"; Janice Bader CPPS, "Commitment Grows through the 'Rubbing of Elbows'"; Debbie Wells CPPS, "Generation Xers in Community: A Cultural Expert--No Experience Necessary!"; and Kathy Wright SL, "Community ls for Mission." 4 Review for Religious 59, no. 2 (March-April 2000): 118-130. s Journal of Democracy 6, no. 1 (January 1995): 65-78. 6 Barbara Fiand SNDdeN, Refocusing the Vision (New York: Crossroad Publishing Co., 2001). 7 Sandra Schneiders IHM, Selling All, Vol. 2 of Religious Life in a New Millennium (New York: Paulist Press, 2001). 279 64.3 200Y Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community Prayer: Psalm 122:1-3, 6-9 I rejoiced because they said to me, "We ~ill go up to the house of the Lord." And now we have set foot within your gates, O Jerusalem-- Jerusalem, built as a city with compact unity. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem! May those who love you prosper! May peace be within your walls, prosperity in your buildings. Because of my relatives and friends I will say " Peace be'within you!" Because of the house of the Lord, our God, I will pray for your good. Reflection and Discussion What is my personal experience of community support and sharing in our congregational vocation and charism? Religious community life mirrors the secular cultural breakdown of social groupings. Do we agree or disagree? If we agree, what kind of changes would we want to work for in religious life? What would be some "norms" that a religious congrega-tion might establish to support and sustain a healthy living "in common"? Review for Religiou~ MARY C. CARROLL With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux: Letters of Mother Teresa and St. Th~r~se When Father Michael van der Peet SCJ, A col-league of mine and seminary spiritual director, lectured on Mother Teresa of Calcutta, it was not just his reporting of particular facts but the heartfelt friendship he had with this remarkable woman that inspired me.~ Because of my com-pelling interest, Father shared the twenty let-ters he had received from Mother Teresa and spoke at length about their conversations and his continuing sense of her presence in his life. I was reminded of another friendship and the poignant letters exchanged between Maurice Barth~l~my-Belli~re, an aspiring seminarian, and Th6r~se of Lisieux. As he departed from France for the African missions, Maurice was deeply consoled by the assuring words of Th~r~se that somehow she would be with him. What is it that motivates and sustains such relationships? Mother Teresa wrote her letters in Mary C. Carroll SSSF is a professor and spiritual director at Sacred Heart School of Theology; .7335 South Highway 100; P.O. Box 429; Hales Corners, Wisconsin 53130. witnessing 64.3 2005 Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 282 the midst of enormous travel demands, and Th~r~se of Lisieux wrote even when she was extremely ill. What is it that so strongly moves people to assist one another on the spiritual journey? Examining these two relationships may provide insight into Jesus' admonition to "abide in my love" (Jn 15:9). My purpose here is (1) to describe the origins of these two friendships, (2) to explore the contents of select letters and conversations, and (3) to share the wisdom of the relationships. Mother Teresa of Calcutta and Father Michael At a bus stop in Rome, Father Michael--a native of Holland and something of a world traveler himself-- noticed that the diminutive woman patiently waiting was Mother Teresa. Considering how rare such a respite must have been for her, he thought of giving her just a nod of recognition. But then he thought: "Here is a saint and I am a sinner. At least I can ask her to pray for me." Fortuitously the conversation that ensued included an invitation to give a talk to Mother's congregation, the Missionaries of Charity, in Rome. Arriving early and sitting in the chapel, Father Michael noticed the Ego Sum (I Am) on the tabernacle door. This became a prayer focus and filled him with a sense of "holy ground." This day concluded with another invitation, for a retreat. Mother requested continuing contact because, as she told him, "You kriow Jesus and you know us.''~ In her first letter Mother says: I would be grateful if I could turn to you for spiritual help, but I am absolutely too small and empty. Only Jesus can stoop so low as to be in love with one such as me. Pray for me--that "No" does not pass through my heart and lips---when Jesus asks. (Letter 1, 11/16/75) Because of traveling, Mother apologizes for a delay in her next letter; she assures Father Michael, however, that Review for Reli~ous a holy hour follows every Mass so that "I get the two hours with Jesus before people and sisters start using me. I let Him use me first" (Letter 2, 3/6/76). Several months later Mother is in New York and invites Father Michael to a private meeting, during which he suggests leaving after an hour. Mother's response is "No. The morning is for us, and the media don't know where I am." On. another occasion Father Michael raised a question: "Wherever you go, Mother, people con-sider you to be a heroine or saint. You received all those beautiful prizes. The Holy Father admires and praises you. You were the guest of Indira Gandhi, of Queen Elizabeth, and of President and Mrs. Reagan. How do you handle all of that?" She laughed and said: "Father, [pointing to her ear] it goes in here and comes out there. I am too small to contain it all. Jesus has given me a great grace, and that is the absoluteconviction that I am nothing without Him. If He could find a poorer woman than I, He would not choose me but He would choose that woman." This theme of "littleness" appears again in a letter: I want to write, but I have nothing to say, but that wonder at His great humility and my smallness--noth-ingness. I believe--this is where Jesus and I meet-- He is everything to me--and I--His own little one--so helpless--so empty--so small that all these things that people keep pouring at and round me, can-not enter within me. Maybe because of the darkness I do not see. Maybe He just wants it to be so. I let Him have His way. I smile at the cardboard box [referring "If He co ld find a poorer w man than!, He would noLchoose me but He would choose tha woman." 283 64.3 2005 Carroll * With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 284[ to herself] getting filled--with all kinds of things-- Big things, most of which I do not understand, but I know that I am being used--only--for and by them so that they proclaim the presence of the Poor--and their concern for the poor. And so I accept everything with a smile in their name. (Letter 3, 5/29/76) In another letter the theme of an unconditional love-- despite the inexplicable darkness that encircles Jesus within her--is quite pronounced in the last paragraph: My love for Jesus keeps growing more simple and more I think personal. Like our Poor, I try to accept my poverty of being small, helpless, incapable of great love, but I want to love Jesus with Mary's love, and His Father with Jesus' love. I know you are praying for me. I want Him to be at ease with me--not to mind my feelings--as long as He feels alright--not to mind even the darkness that surrounds Him in me-- but that in spite of everything Jesus is all to me and that I love no one but only Jesus. (Letter 4, 6/19/76) Within a few months Mother is writing of Brother Roger of Taizd's presence in Calcutta and marveling at someone so full of God and willing to live right in the slums. She promises Father Michael more sharing when her table is "a little empty of letters" (Letter 5, 11/6/76). There is a specificity of issues--providence and faith-fulness- mentioned in the following letter. First Mother refers to their wonderful "chance" meeting in Rome. We have received much from accepting to meet-- without being consulted or prepared. I do not know how He does with you--but with me He always does so--just to make me realize His tender concern for me and my nothingness--His fullness and my empti-ness- His infinite Love and my childlike love. (Letter 6, 11/26/76) Then she addresses Father Michael's personal concerns: Review for Religious "Let not your infidelity and hesitancy as you say--pre-occupy you, but accept all that He gives and give what-ever He takes with a big smile. For this is holiness: to do His will with a big smile" (Letter 6, 11/26/76). But that smile is difficult for her too as she handles her celebrity status in a visit to the United States. "It was all one act of blind obedience. I began to understand the Stations of the Cross with a deeper meaning. The Police, the crowds, it all seemed as if Calvary was being re-enacted all over again" (Letter 6, 11/26/76). The significance of the Missionaries of Charity and the Eucharist are recurring themes as well. Mother is impressed by a priest who points out that God has to exist or else the MCs have "no meaning at all." She agrees, but adds that the essential source for this ministry is the meekness and humility of Jesus: To be able to eat the Bread of Life--we need meekness and humility--if we want to feed Him in the hungry one. I would be happy if you [Father Michael] wrote about the hunger of man and the Bread of Life, the hunger of God and the Hungry One in the distressing disguise of the Poor. (Letter 6, 11/26/76) Regarding hours of adoration, Mother confides, "Here lies our strength and our joy." She concludes: "I ask you to tell Jesus--when at your wordwthe bread becomes His Body and wine becomes His Blood--to change my heart, give me His own Heart so that I can love Him as He loves me" (Letter 6, 11/26/76). Within the year, Mother makes a similar plea with deep affection: "My prayer is very close to you. I do hope you will keep me close to you in your prayer--and love Jesus for me, for all the times when my heart is cold and empty" (Letter 7, 6/20/77). A short time later Father Michael is planning an extended time of reflection and Mother has some pas-toral words for him: 64.3 200~ Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Li~'eux It is just like you to ask to spend the [three] 3 months with Jesus alone, but if during this time the hunger for Jesus in hearts of His people is greater than yours for Jesus you should not remain alone with Jesus for all the time. You must allow Jesus to make you bread to be eaten by all those you come in touch with. Let the people eat you up--by the Word and presence you proclaim Jesus. (Letter 8, 2/17/78) She then lays out a tentative plan for her scheduled time in St. Louis: I wish you would be there. We could--maybe have Adoration every day and so bring . . . our lives [together] with the Bread of Life. No greater love, not even God could give than in giving Himself as Bread of life to be broken to be eaten so that you and I may eat and live, may eat and satisfy our hunger for love--and He seemed yet not satisfied for He too was hungry for love, so He made Himself the Hungry One, the Thirsty One, the Naked One, the Homeless [One]. (Letter 8, 2/17/78) Mother claims that she can understand Jesus' majesty because He is God, but "His humility is beyond my understanding because He makes Himself the Bread of Life so that even a child as small as I can eat Him and live." In further reflection on the Eucharist, she recalls an awesome memory: Some days back, when giving Holy Communion to our Sisters in the Mother House, suddenly I realized I was holding God between my [two] 2 fingers. The greatness of [the] humility of God. Really no greater love--no greater love than the love of Christ. You, I am sure must feel often like that when, at your word ¯. the [b]read becomes the Body of Christ, the wine becomes the Blood of Christ. (Letter 8, 2/17/78) Her closing comment is characteristic: "He [Jesus] Review for Religious can do with me just as it pleases Him without even a thought of consoling me. I iust want to be His own lit-tle one, if He so wants. Otherwise I will be happy to be just Nothing and He everything" (Letter 8, 2/I 7/78). After more than a year's lapse, a subsequent letter includes an apology for a "long silence." She refers to the Silver Jubilee celebration since, with the foundation in Beirut, twenty-five tabernacles are established in MC houses around the world. With reference to the Eucharist, she again ponders the ineffable: "I just under-stand less and less the humility of God-made-man for love of us" (Letter 9, 5/30/79). A few months later, at the time of the congregational chapter, Mother makes a request: "Ask Our Lady to take care of our Society, which was born at her pleading and grew under her care. I would love to be just a simple Sister. I will not ask--let Jesus do whatever He wills without con-suiting me, for I belong to Him" (Letter 10, 9/22/79). She also offers an apology for leaving Father Michael and oth-ers at a profession in New York to join Cardinal Terence Cooke in meeting with the boat people: "The sea has become an open Calvary where the Passion of Christ is being relived . You only wonder how people can suffer so much and never break. Looking at them I feel physical pain right in my heart" (Letter 10, 9/22/79). Mingled with joy in the expanding congregation, the letter contains signs of a dark night of the soul: "As for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear. The tongue moves but does not speak. Helpless yet daring." Mother asks for prayer so that "I let Him have a free hand and even if He chooses to cut me to pieces that every single piece, however small, be only His." Mother ends with "Ask Our Lady to take care of me as she took [care] of Jesus" (Letter 10, 9/22/79). 64.3 2005 Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 288 There is a postmark from Rome on the next letter. "A bishop told me that I will spend my Purgatory in writing letters, because I am so bad in answering" is her opening statement. Even so, she claims that, "however long Purgatory may be, there is the beautiful hope of seeing Jesus, one day." Her delay is, to some extent, due to her presence at a synod. She expresses amazement to be "with all the big people of Church" (Letter 11, 10/18/80). At the synod Mother requests that the bishops and the Holy Father "give us holy Priests." She then reflects on Father Michael's priesthood: "How tenderly Jesus must love you as to use your tongue to change [b]read into the Body of Christ and through your absolution take away the sins, wash the sins with His precious Blood." Mother is delighted that soon "we shall have Priest-Co-workers." She closes with "Let us keep the joy of loving Jesus in our hearts and share this joy with all we meet" (Letter 11, 10/18/80). During the next decade Mother's letters are less fre-quent but, with reference to Father Michael's corre-spondence, she repeats, "They are my strength" (Letter 12, 12/29/82). Upon returning from Ethiopia she somberly says, "I only saw an open Calvary, where the Passion of Christ was being relived in the bodies of crowds and crowds of people." She hopes, however, to send more sisters to be Jesus' gentle presence to them (Letter 13, I/1/1985). "Often I have wanted to write, but not knowing where you are--it was [a] good excuse not to write" is one of the opening lines of her next letter. With so much poverty around the world, the three hundred and fifty MC houses in seventy-seven countries console her. In her imaginative way she says: St. Peter must be wondering what is happening in the homes of the MC's, as each one who dies in our homes Review for Religious goes to heaven with a ticket for St. Peter. [Twenty-three] 23 thousand have died with us only in Calcutta out of the 53,000 that we had picked up dying from the streets. Same is happening in New York. Already [fifty] 50 have died a beautiful death . At the begin-ning St~ Peter would not let me enter Heaven, because there were no slums in Heaven. Now Heaven is full of slum people. Jesus must be very happy to have those thousands coming to Him with love from Calcutta. (Letter 14, 1/1/88) Although there is a short typed note expressing grat-itude, the last hand-written letter arrives in March 1992. Mother repeats an earlier refrain, "Your letter brought me great joy that you still remember me and pray for me after such a long time." She is happy with an expanding congregation but hopes that the "Society remains only all for Jesus through Mary" (Letter 17, 3/3/92). Then, until Mother's death in 1997, the notes are short and typed but her spirit comes through, especially in the final letter: "God's blessings be on you as you continue to satiate the burning Thirst of Jesus." The last line concludes with "Please, pray for our Society and for me that we may not in any way spoil the works of love" (Letter 20, 3/10/97). In reflecting on his experience, Father Michael mea-sures each word as he says, "With her, you inhale God's presence." Mother's decorum is not "pietistic or exag-gerated." There is a flow of "something genuine, natu-ral, and spontaneous." At the ceremony for the beatification of Mother Teresa, Father Michael watched carefully at the unveiling of her picture and with grati-tude said in his heart, "There is my friend." In the years that have followed since her death, Father Michael says, "She has never been far from me." Whereas Father Michael and Mother Teresa met numerous times and exchanged over fifty letters, Maurice 289 64.3 2005 Carroll ¯Witb Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 290 Belli~re and Th~r~se of Lisieux never met, and exchanged only twenty-one letters. Nevertheless, their correspondence also provides a rich dynamic of a grow-ing friendship. Let us now turn to the genesis of that relationship and some excerpts from Th~rEse's letters. Thdri~se of Lisieux and Maurice Barth~l~my-Bellii~re Like Father Michael van der Peet, Maurice Belli~re --a twenty-one-year-old French ~eminarian--reached out for someone to pray for him by writing to a Carmelite convent. Mother Agnes of Jesus, Th~r~se's older sister Pauline, received the letter in which Maurice introduced himself with the words, "The grace of God, which impelled me toward the Sanctuary, has not washed away the last traces of a thoughtless life., and in spite of my efforts I have a hard time absorbing the spirit of the Church and holding myself to all the demands of the seminary rule." 3 Subsequently, while in the mundane surroundings of a laundry room, Pauline asked Th~r~se to become a spir-itual sister to Maurice by praying for him. Th~r~se was delighted, and, although they never met, thus began a significant friendship manifested in the letters exchanged, largely during the last year of her life. When Maurice Belli~re sent his first letter to the Carmel of Lisieux, he was desperate because his manda-tory military service was interrupting his seminary stud-ies and it could negatively affect his vocation. Within a week Pauline assured Maurice that a "little saint" would be praying for him. His next letter is quite idealistic, for he does not want to come back from military service "without bringing some souls back to the true Light." En route to the barracks in Caen, he drops off a postcard recommending prayer for the seminarian-soldiers and their saddened families. Review for Religious It is another nine months before Maurice sends a let-ter revealing a man, fresh from the seminary, whose per-sonal confidence in his ideals have been severely challenged. What exactly happened in the army is mys-terious; obviously, Maurice is disillusioned. He writes again, to the new prioress, Mother Gonzague, who turns the correspondence over to Th~r~se. With alacrity and sisterly concern, Th~r~se responds and soon learns that Maurice--having finished his military stint and returned to his religious pursuits--is now anxiously awaiting acceptance in the Missionaries of Africa (White Fathers). Excerpts from Th~r~se's first letter (December 26, 1896) are full of encouragement for the aspiring missionary: Let us work together for the salvation of souls. We have only the one day of this life to save them and thus to give Our Lord some proof of our love. The tomorrow of this day will be eternity, when Jesus will reward you with the hundredfold of those sweet and lawful joys which you are giving up for Him . I hope, Monsieur l'Abb~, that you will continue to pray for me, who am no angel as you seem to think, but a poor little Carmelite who is very imperfect--yet who in spite of her poverty wants, like yourself, to work for the glory of God. Thtr~se includes some of her poems. Maurice is grateful, apologizing for his "rough and ready" prose but saying he feels that something in her communication is working in the depths of his soul. Th~r~se responds with equal gratitude: "Truly, only in heaven will you know how dear you are to me. I feel our souls are made to understand each other." In this same letter Th~r~se articulates her "little way" by saying: "Since He Himself has chosen me to be your sis-ter, I hope that He will not take notice of my weakness, or rather that He will use that very weakness to do His work: 29i 64.3 200~ Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 2921 for the Strong God likes to show His power by making use of nothing." Th~r~se has lofty desires that can be accomplished by being the "small flower" in the apostolic garden. For Thdr~se, the Divine One is not giving awards to the competent but rewards to the humble who are con-fident in Him, It is not entitlement but instrumentality. There is an increasing intimacy in Thdr~se's saluta-tion in the next letter. "My dear little Brother" replaces the formal "Monsieur l'Abb&" Fearing an overestima-tion of her person, she says, "I beg you to believe me that the good God has given you as your sister not a great soul." But she hastens to add: "Don't think that this is humility which prevents me from recognizing the gifts of the good God. I know that He has done great things in me, and every day I sing to Him with joy for doing so." Her motivation has also crystallized. "I under-stood my mission was not to crown a mortal king, but to make the King of Heaven loved, to conquer for Him the kingdom of hearts." Just months before her death, Thdr~se takes advan-tage of the privacy afforded her in the infirmary to answer Maurice's letters. She makes it clear that she is facing the end and assumes that, when he receives her letter, she will have left this "land of exile." There seems to be a sense of urgency when she says, "I would like to tell you a thousand things which I understand as I stand at the door of Eternity." One thing is clear: "I under-stand more than ever that only one thing is necessary, and that is to work solely for Him." A month later Thdr~se says, "The Spouse is at the door." Facing her own demise, she wants Maurice to know that their relationship will continue. "When my dear lit-tle brother leaves for Africa, I shall follow him not only in thought and in prayer; my soul will be with him for-ever." But Maurice is devastated when he understands Review for Religious that TMr~se's days are numbered, for he has found "a lovely home" in her friendship. He lets her know that she has been instrumental in his finding Jesus. Maurice soon expresses his anxieties and moral weak-ness. Thdr~se uses the image of an elevator of love, not fear, that takes us to God. She gives the exam-ple of two children who are disobedient. One withdraws in fright, but the other throws himself into their father's arms to beg forgiveness. Thdr~se promises to help Maurice remedy his hesitancy with God. "I think it will be easier for you to live with Jesus once I am there at His side forever." Thdr~se knows she must wait for the next life to further converse on these profound realities. In Thdr~se's last letter she speaks of knowing that her passport for heaven is ready and credits her deceased father for the grace of that awareness. Once again she assures Maurice that, whatever his faults, he is .dealing with the infinite mercy of God. She closes with: "ADieu, dear little brother, may God give us the grace to love Him and to save souls for Him." In the meantime Maurice is on board a ship destined for Africa. He recalls looking up at the stars and praying for Thdr~se, unaware it was the night she died. His first day in Africa is Thdr~se's first day in eternity. Later he is convinced that his peacefulness and joy are attributable to her. If today one goes to Maurice's grave, there is a plaque on the wall of the nearby church acknowledging this relationship: Maurice Belli~re, Spiritual Brother and Protdgd of Saint Th4r~se. A Dieu, dear littlebrother, may God give us the grace to love Him and to save soulsfor Him," 1293 64.3 2005 Carroll * With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 294 Summary Observations These two women--sending letters permeated with affection, gratitude, and insights--gifted both Father Michael van der Peet and Maurice Barth~l~my-Belli~re. Mother Teresa's themes are more broadly based: retreat requests, Eucharistic insights, concern for an expanding congregation, global poverty, and a thirst for God whet-ted by an acute spiritual darkness that seem to hollow her out for a greater fullness of Jesus' presence. In each MC house she had the phrase "I thirst" given a prominent place as a reminder of Jesus' longing for souls, and per-haps as a reflection of her own longing for God. Th~r~se and Maurice were in their twenties and fer-vently idealistic. Th~r~se articulates the "little way" to accompany her dreams. She uses the face of Jesus and the phrase "King of Hearts" to focus her image of her Beloved. There is immediacy in Th~r~se's writing because it is penned as she stands at the door of death while whispering secrets to Maurice. Although cloistered in life, she promises that in eternity she will travel with him as a spiritual companion. Both women view themselves as God's instruments: a cardboard box, an insignificant flower. In life, many know similar images of themselves and reluctantly accept them, but these women rejoice in them. Both knew they are not sources, only conduits, of love. Both women say to their friends what John the Baptist once said: "He must increase, and I must decrease" (Jn 3:30). But, most especially, both women testify to a divine indwelling through Jesus that makes true friendship possible. "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my love" (Jn 15:9). Notes ~ Father Michael van der Peer, a member of the international Congregation of the Priests of the Sacred Heart (SCJ), served on the Review for Religious commission for the beatification of Mother Teresa of Calcutta. He has graciously given me permission to quote from her letters and has answered numerous questions. Further resources regarding her expe-rience with spiritual direction are J. Neuner SJ, "Mother Teresa's Charism," and Albert Huart SJ, "Mother Teresa: Joy in the Night," Review for Religious 60 (September-October 2001): 479-493 and 494- 502 respectively. 2 Words quoted here and below (whether Mother Teresa's or Father Michael's), if not otherwise documented, are from my interviews with Father van der Peet. 3 Patrick Ahern, Maurice and Tberese: The Story of a Love (New York: Doubleday, 1998), p. 15. Below, other quotations longer than three words are from the following pages of this book: 25, 65-66, 82 and 86, 82, 103 and 108, 104-I05, 106, 130, 129-130, 152 and 155, 153,188, and 211. At Cana Before time was, She was in God's eye, As a bloom in the bud Awaits its moment. And the moment, too, Was in God's eye, That sees and saves, Counts hairs on heads, Yet defers to her, Her.unspoken wish Already his command. Leonard Cochran OP 64.3 2005 MARY FRANCES COADY Alfred Delp SJ and the Heart of Jesus 296 O n the first day of December 1944, a thirty-seven- year-old Jesuit, imprisoned in Berlin and awaiting trial for treason against the Third Reich, edged himself between the plank bed and table of his small cell and with manacled hands began to write a reflection on the Heart of Jesus. His name was Alfred Delp, and he had been arrested four months earlier in an all-out purge following a failed attempt on Hitler's life the previous July. He had been interrogated and tortured. In letters smuggled out of prison by two women who brought clean laundry and other supplies to prisoners, he had written about his fear, his struggles against despair, his optimistic hopes for acquittal and release, and his desire to leave his fate in the hands of God. The date, 1 December, that he began putting his meditation to paper is significant, for as the day dawned he realized it was the first Friday of the month, the day honoring the Heart of Jesus. This devotion held a cen- Mary Frances Coady published With Bound Hands, about Father Delp, at Loyola Press in 2003. She writes from 35 Cowan Avenue; Toronto, Ontario; M6K 2N1 Canada. tral place in Delp's prayer life. The veneration of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, with its deep biblical roots, had grown to enormous popularity with the revelations to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque in the late 17th century. This obscure Visitation nun received visions of Jesus in the chapel of her convent in the town of Paray-le- Monial, in Burgundy. In these visions Jesus exposed his heart to her, saying, "Behold my heart, which burns with love for all humanity." He added that those who received Communion for nine consecutive first Fridays in repa-ration for sins against his love were assured of dying in the state of grace. In the following centuries and under Jesuit influence, the Sacred Heart devotion ushered in a new and more gentle approach to the Christian spiritual life--one of self-abandonment, trust, and surrender--as a means of combatting the cold, harsh spirit of Jansenism that had permeated the church. The Litany of the Heart of Jesus was given official church approval in 1891. Along the way, however, the devotion became encrusted with infe-rior art, sugary sentimentality, and obsessive supersti-tions regarding the nine first Fridays. Alfred Delp, the product of a Catholic-Lutheran mar-riage, grew up without Catholic devotions because his father insisted he be brought up a Lutheran. The Sacred Heart caught up with him, however, after his adolescent embrace of his mother's Catholicism and his subsequent entrance into the Society of Jesus in 1926. A book of Jesuit devotions, one of which was the Litany of the Sacred Heart, was sent to him in prison. Delp had studied philosophy and political theory, but his prayer life as a Jesuit had been fashioned by the Catholic piety of the time. As a preacher and writer, he had tried to infuse his philosophical work with his deep-ening sense of the divine mystery at the core of his devo- 64.3 2005 298 tions. On the first Friday of December, in his cold prison cell, his hands in manacles, he pondered the love of God as the driving force of the universe. In the extremity of his situation, he realized the immensity of God's love for him, that God was holding him and protecting him with a love that was infinitely greater and more powerful than the forces imprisoning him. And so he began to write his meditation on the Litany of the Heart of Jesus. The heart represents the essence, or center, of a per-son, and he had earlier written of the heart as the only way to God. Now, in a preamble to his meditation, he lamented the dissociation of the devotional from the the-ological. Without a theological foundation, he wrote, the devotion can dissolve into mush, and without the devotion the theology becomes dry and devoid of personal passion. He described the arc that moves between the divine and the human: the basis of this devotion is the cry of the creature in need and the offer of help from God through Jesus Christ. The answer from God takes two forms: a healing, redemptive help and a call for humanity to share in that healing. And so this is not a just a "me and God" approach to the heart of Jesus, but a proposal to be a graced presence for others as well. The language used in the prayer is the language of love, but the theological framework is there. The prayer expresses a deep, myste-rious relationship between God and humanity, he wrote, and must not be demeaned by sentimentality. As with other litanies, the Litany of the Heart of Jesus follows an antiphonal course; the response "Have mercy on us" follows each of the various titles attributed to Jesus. What follows is my translation of an excerpt from Delp's reflection on the first invocation: "Heart of Jesus, Son of the eternal Father." "We call upon the Heart of the Son of the eternal Father. In this invocation there are particular consider- Review for Religious ations for us to contemplate. Heart: here, as in the whole litany, we are calling upon the love of God. The Heart is the symbol of God's innermost being and God's fun-damental relationship with us. A person who does not believe in God in this way should not continue praying, because that person is not up to the words of the prayer. "Heart of the Son: one ought to be able to state briefly what theology has to say about the Son. But one thing should be men-tioned as far as this devo-tion is concerned: from the beginning, the Son is the place of comfort and belonging for the world. The Word is God's image, of which we are shadows. He has always been the living incarnation of God's commitment to the worl

Issue 53.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1994. ; OUS Christian Heritages and ContemporaryLiving MARCH-APRIL 1994 ¯ VOLUME 53 ¯ NUMBER 2 ¯ 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, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° P.O. Box 29260 ¯ Washington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1994 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. review for religious Editor David L. Fleming Associate Editors Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Canonical Counsel Editor Elizabeth McDonough OP Assistant Editors ¯ Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Advisory Board Joann Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Susanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MARCH-APILIL 1994 ¯ VOLUME 53 ¯ NUMBER 2 contents 166 feature In the Midst of the Times: Religious Life and the Ever-Present Experience of the World John W. Padberg SJ presents three historical perspectives on religious life to aid in imagining and planning for the future. commitments 182 Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love 189 196 David Maria Knight suggests that religious are examples and models of that dramatic gesture which is a key element in launching anyone into passionate relationship with God. Quest for an Undivided Heart Theresa Mancuso ponders a heart focused on God in a life of consecrated chastity. Imaged Celibacy: A Reflection for Priests Brian C. Yates proposes a way of imaging that allows us to enter more freely into the reality of celibate living. challenges 200 Needed: An Ethic of Memories 208 214 222 Joanne Marie Greer suggests various ethical aspects that need to be considered when sharing memories, especially those which are a part of therapeutic counseling. ADiscipline of Self-Respect William Mockus describes the need for spiritual discipline as a function of self-respect. A Transformational Journey Annete Adams SND observes the cycle of the monarch butterfly to gain understanding about the spiritual-direction process. Community for Today and Tomorrow Janet Roesener CSJ sets forth the call and challenges for reli-gious to live a covenantal community life. 162 Review for Religious 231 238 254 263 directions Fruitfulness versus Achievement Peter G. Van Breemen SJ reflects on the distinction which we Christians need to make between achievement and the biblical notion of fruitfulness. Old Brothers and Young, Dreams and Visions Robert C. Berger FSC uses images of the Hebrew Scriptures to shed light on the action of God and the relevance of brother-hood. Just Look at the Lord Joel Giallanza CSC presents a simple and practical melding of our desire to pray and our praying from Teresa of Avila. Pray Always: John Cassian on Distractions Kenneth C. Russell applies the insights of John Cassian to help us live a life focused on God amidst the distractions of the modern world. reflections 273 Genesis Continued Mary Michael McCulla CDP poetically reflects a kind of Genesis account of woman. 278 Called to the Harvest Vera Gallagher RGS enters us into her experience of God's healing grace in people's troubled lives. 285 report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and ~7orks 1993 Kenneth G. Davis .OFMConv presents a panoramic of the year's events within the U:S. Hispanic Catholid community. departments ¯ ¯ 164 Prisms 303 Canonical Counsel: Norms for Renewal and Reflections on Its Progress 309 Book Reviews Marcb-/lpri11994 163 prisms ~edo not necessarily compliment our-selves when we compare ourselves to the first disciples of Jesus. For example, the two disciples on their way to Emmaus do not symbolize either gospel people (evange-lizers) or apostolic people (on a mission). In a way, of course, they are pilgrim people, journeying, although they are running away from Jerusalem, where their lives are meant to be centered. They know a lot about Jesus-- enough to k6ep talking about him at least between them-selves or privately with an amiable stranger. Yet what stands out in their telling of the Jesus story is their own disappointment. Disappointment may be the common cross that afflicts us followers of Jesus all the more because we like to describe ourselves as Alleluia people. These two disciples symbolize disappointment immediately after Jesus' pas-sion. During the active ministry of Jesus, a rich man with much fervor wanted to lead a holy life, but walked away from Jesus--disappointed with his kind of "Beatitude" challenge. Other disciples caused Jesus such pain by their leaving that he asked Peter and the others identified as the Twelve, "Will you leave me too?" People had left cha-grined by all this foolish talk about Jesus being the food and drink of their lives. They were unwilling to live with promise in such incarnate guise. Disappointment can certainly be a difficult cross to bear for us Christ-followers. For us present-day disciples of the one who has overcome death, it somehow seems "not right" to have to continue to face defeat, failure, and betrayal, especially from agents that speak or act in Christ's 164 Review for Religi?us name. How can we not be disappointed when the Vatican is the only agency among all the world's states which recognizes a repressive government in Haiti? How legitimate the disappoint-ment is when we face the problem of certain clerics or religious who betrayed a trust by their sexual abuse of a child! How disap-pointing for us as a community is the high percentage of failed marriages, often within our own families--marriages celebrated with all the beauty and solemn commitment of the wedding Mass! Are we ever disappointed with ourselves--after years of striving to be Little Flowers--at still feeling more like the scrubby weeds found along abandoned railroad tracks? Disappointments come in all sizes--some so big that they seem insurmountable, but others so small and daily that we suf-fer them as the necessary "colds and flu" of our spiritual life. Disappointments come at all stages of life development. Young and old and all the in-betweens face unrealized or shattered dreams, an if-only sense of things left undone, feelings of aban-donment by ones they love. Where does the event of Christ's resurrection touch most directly the practical living of our lives? I would suggest that we need to look towards our experience of disappointments. We test quickly the firmness of our faith in the resurrection by our lived response to disappointment. Among us followers who want to distance ourselves from this hierarchical church or to walk away from a disheartened priesthood or to dismiss a seemingly anachro-nistic religious life or to reject a cumbersome parish structure, we find an identity with the two disciples on their way to Emmaus. The question we face is whether we will take the time from all our talk or activity to listen to and recognize the call to believe what is central to our faith: Jesus is risen, and our response to disap-pointment need never be a time without grace, an experience without new life. The Easter e{r~nt translates into our creedal "I believe in the resurrection of the dead." But the daily disap-pointments that make us die by inches are where we all need to let our resurrection faith have.its effect. As with the two disciples on that first Easter evening, it is in our hurrying back into a dis-appointing Jerusalem--with our faith in the risen Lord--that we truly act as evangelizers arid people on mission. David L. Fleming SJ March-April 1994 165 feature JOHN W. PADBERG In the Midst of the Times: Religious Life and the Ever-Present Experience of the World The reader of these reflections by an historian will have noted at once that their title is a variation on the immediately preceding theological essay by Elizabeth Johnson csj, "Between the Times: Religious Life and the Postmodern Experience of God." That reprise is quite deliberately meant to introduce the reader to the com-plementary. intent of these remarks, in accord with the overall structure of the Religious Life Futures Project. That comprehensive, study of "the future of religious orders in the United States" included six independent ele-ments or "research units" in its work. The first five were a national survey, leadership studies, studies of caring peo-ple and of visioning groups, and a series of individual interviews. The sixth unit was to be a two-part theologi-cal/ historical monograph, of which the first part was to provide a theological framework for interpreting the data gathered in the study and this second part was to be "an historical postscript" or a set of reflections on that theo-logical essay from an historical perspective. John W. Padberg SJ is director of the Institute of Jesuit Sources in St. Louis. This article will be part of a companion book to The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Transformation and Commitment (Praeger Publishers, 1993) by David J. Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis. His address is Institute of Jesuit Sources; 3700 West Pine Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. 166 Review for Religious The theological essay concludes saying, "For religious life in the United States it is now Advent, the most honest season of all. ¯. What is needed is vigilant patience, profound prayer, and the ability to act boldly toward that future where new forms of evan-gelical life will develop" (Johnson, p. 24).1 This essay will take off from that judgment, which is both correct and important. Advent is a new beginning, but it comes after the conclusion of the year-long liturgical season during which we first await and long for the arrival of Jesus and then in turn remember and cel-ebrate the impossibly good news that he himself is: a hidden life of long duration, the preaching of the good news in person and in word, his seeming defeat in his terrifyingly real passion and death, and then the paschal triumph. We might be tempted to think it is all just a cycle, but then the year goes on beyond the life of Jesus, like an arrow into the future, to tell us that the spreading of that news and the imparting of that life take place in the down-to-earth reality of the post-Pentecostal church which, if we stop to realize it, still lives on as our present church. And then the year begins again with another Advent. The history of the church has recorded many such Advent and subsequent varying seasons. So has the history of religious life in the church. As the theological essay notes, "the evangeli-cal following of Jesus in the church, traditionally called 'religious life,' has been incarnated in a great diversity of forms [which] have consistently emerged from the insights of individuals and groups responding to the Spirit in the crucible of cultural change" (Johnson, p. 7). If it is true that "the only reason for religious life is the experience of God" (Johnson, p. 16), and that such experi-ence is a "postmodern" one "between the times," it is true in another sense that the only way such religious life is lived is "in the midst of the times" and in the context of "the ever-present experience of the world." Hence the complementary title of this essay and the tenor of its remarks. The theological essay suggests that the emerging "under-standing of [religious] life is primarily that of persons and com-munities called to prophetic ministry embedded in a contemplative relationship to God" (Johnson, p. 12). It maintains that beneath changes in structure are changes in attitude and that underlying such changes in attitude is a postmodern experience of God. "Postmodernity is conscious of the end of progress, the limits of reason, the sad isolation of the unconnected individual, and the March-April 1994 167 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times Spiritualities significantly influence the ways in which °religious congregations remain faithful to their original purposes and the ways in which they respond to human need. catastrophe that results when nature is disrespected," while wish-ing to keep from the modern era such goods as "the emphasis on human dignity and human rights and their expressions in liberty and equality. Postmodernity is awake to the egregious failures that the modern ethos has wrought. It wants to go Away-From-Here" (Johnson, p. 18). But meanwhile it is absolutely nec-essary to remember that the "Here" from which postmodernity seeks to escape still mightily influences our cur-rent life. And while the contexts of pre-sent and past are inevitably different, the reactions to past contexts might yield clues as to how we shall react to the pre-sent context. Religious life has of neces-sity existed in several such past contexts of a world changing around it. Often enough that life took on a particular character from the ways in which its members, men and women religious, looked both on change "in the midst of the times" and on the "ever-present experience of the world" around them (to quote again from the title of these present reflec-tions) and from the ways in which they judged both world and change or history. The body of this essay will deal especially with those two matters. It will, firs.t, present several such modern changes in reli-gious life in the midst of changing times, in other words, several examples from history. Secondly, it will reflect more generally on the ways in which religious life responds to change and to the experience of the world, because the nature of those responses characterizes in part the dominant spiritualities which inform either religious life in general or a particular form of that life. Such spiritualities, in turn, significantly influence the ways in which religious congregations remain faithful to their original purposes and the ways in which they respond to human need. As the executive summary of the study concludes, "fidelity to the spirit of the founder and responsiveness to critical and unmet human needs are basic to the original mission of religious com-munities" (Summary, p. 42).2 168 Review for Religious Three Times in the Midst of Change In its fifteen-hundred-year history in the Latin Church of the West, religious life has experienced upheaval more often than is realized. To look only at the modern world, such upheaval has happened in a major way three times in the last four hundred and fifty years: during the time of the Reformation (beginning in 1517), during the time of the French Revolution (beginning in 1789), and in the renewal which was asked for by the Second Vatican Council, which ended in 1965. First, the Reformation. The whole notion of religious life was rejected by the Protestant reformers. This rejection had its foun-dation in their theology, but it gained popular support because religious life had lost much of its credibility. The scandalous rep-utation of many religious congregations and their members-- especially male religious--was all too often deserved. One does not have to read Chaucer (before the Reformation) or Rabelais (dur-ing it) for examples of why that reputation was well deserved. The church documents in those years, calling for reform, are vivid enough. Over and over those calls for reform were made, and over and over again they were ignored. The effects on religious life in the lands of reform were dev-astating. In England men and women religious had already been brutally driven out of their houses. In other countries monks and nuns left their orders in droves. Even in lands that stayed Catholic, the numbers of persons entering religious life dropped drasti-cally. So bad had the reputation of religious life become that more than once during the Catholic reform it was proposed to the Holy See that all but four orders of men, and most orders of women, be suppressed. And yet, in the midst of this seemingly impossible situation, during the Catholic reform new orders and congregations arose, grew in numbers, and flourished. Older orders gradually took themselves in hand, reformed, and prospered. Why? The second major upheaval took place at the time of the French Revolution. While the religious orders in general had been far more faithful to their rule and to the furtherance of the spiritual lives of their members than at the Reformation, still many, even the most active of them, had often lost touch with the changing world around them, a world influenced in many ways by the Enlightenment. The Revolution brought chaos to the church and to religious March-April 1994 169 Padberg * In the Midst of the Times life. Europe was the home of most of the members of the church. It was the place where the administrative structures, the finan-cial resources, the educational establishments, the charitable apos-tolates, the seminaries, the religious congregations had existed for more than fifteen hundred years, all in aid of the preaching of the gospel and the celebration of the sacraments. Quite simply, the Revolution swept away most of these realities upon which the church depended and in which religious life had embodied itself. The properties from which many of the dioceses and orders drew their support were secularized by the new governments and sold to the highest bidder. (For example, Cluny, the acme of Romanesque architecture, the glory of. the Benedictine Order, the second largest church in the Christian world, was destroyed, in part by revolutionary ideology and frenzy but mostly by several good middle-class families who bought it after the state had con-fiscated it and then had it taken down, stone by stone, to be sold for their profit as building material, all in the name of the sanc-tity of private property.) Many of the religious orders were officially abolished in the lands reached by the Revolution; members of almost all of them were turned out of their houses and left to fend for themselves. In 1789, as the French Revolution began, there were some two thou-sand Benedictine establishments in Europe; by 1815 only about twenty were still functioning. In fact, of the many religious orders of men in existence before the French Revolution, only two, the Christian Brothers and the Jesuits, have ever again grown to be as large as they were before the Revolution or larger. And yet, the hundred and fifty years from the Revolution to the beginning of Vatican II were for religious congregations and orders the most unusual years in the history of the church. More new congregations were founded than in any comparable period in the history of the church. More new congregations of women were founded in that century and a half than in the whole previ-ous history of the church. The older orders grew again. More missionary congregations were founded than ever before, and more women and men went to the foreign missions. Why? To turn now to our own histories, and the third upheaval, the Second Vatican Council brought undreamt-of change to the church and to religious life. Many in the church had hoped for change, but no one could have imagined the depth and breadth of the change which did occur. This is not the place to rehearse 170 Revino for Religious those postconciliar events of the past twenty-five to thirty years. The theological essay has well noted many of the changes that took place. Perhaps, however, the quantity and especially the qual-ity of that change can be evoked by recalling ten words or phrases from Vatican II. With the two exceptions of the words "liturgy" and "revelation," none had been common in the church before the council. The other eight are: aggiornamento, collegiality, dia-logue, people of God, inculturation, religious liberty, joy and hope (gaudium et spes), and ecumenism. The realities behind those words raised expectations and produced changes which often have gone beyond either the worst fears of those who wanted no change or the best guesses of those who hoped for it. But whether we now react with dismay, delight, or doubt, many of the details, good, bad, or indifferent, of the world of the church and the world of religious life in the church of thirty to forty years ago have changed irretrievably or even vanished. In and through those changes since Vatican II religious life has been in tur-moil, as it was in the two other great Changes were not introduced from some source external to the church such as the Reformation or the Revolution, but came about internally, from the church itself'at Vatican II. modern upheavals. A very great difference, however, is that these changes were not introduced from some source external to the church such as the Reformation or the Revolution, but came about internally, from the church itself at Vatican II and from what has been truly in its proportions a paradigm shift in the church's self-understanding. The notion of "tranSformation" in the organiza-tional realm, as described in the Religious Life Futures Project, is utterly apt here for what has happened in the~ church. "It refers to qualitative, discontinuous shifts in members' shared under-standings of the organization, accompanied by changes in the organization's mission, strategy, and formal and informa| struc-tures" (Summary, pp. 9-10). In the midst of all this, religious orders and congregations were themselves directly asked by the church to review and revise their own way of life in the light of the council's teachings, in accord with their originating charism, and in adaptation to the March-April1994 1 ~1 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times needs of today. In general, they have taken this request seriously and generously, often at great personal and institutional cost. They, too, have been caught up in the process of transformation. And yet, in this case, the optimistic aftermath of the two ear-lier upheavals has not occurred in the wake of Vatican II. Why? A brief response to the why asked at all three junctures will come later in this essay. The Experience of the World and of History The second major part of this essay will include some reflec-tions on the particular types of spirituality that inform the inner life and the external activities of religious orders. Again, why? Because on such various types of spirituality which inform reli-gious life in general.and specific orders in particular will depend religious life's understanding and judgment of the times in which it lives and of the world which it experiences. "Spirituality" is here understood simply as the way an individual or a group habit-ually acts in learning about and loving and serving God in accord with God's self-revelation in and through God's deeds, especially the greatest of those deeds, Jesus Christ himself. The heuristic structure used here to describe a variety of spir-itualities3 distinguishes four possible ways in which they view the world and history in the midst of a particular time and space by the responses to this question: Does a spirituality.view or not view the world and history as positive means to express itself and to practice a growing relationship to God? "World" includes not only the obvious natural, material world but also human society and institutions. "History" includes especially process, develop-ment and change. In practice, of course, no one of the four resul-tant types of response exists in its absolutely pure state, and obviously in real life they all exist in. particular sociocultural con-texts. In addition, all four types are always intermingled. Perhaps most importantly, each of them is in itself a good. To distinguish them however is, in general, useful for clarity and, in particular, for helping us to see where our contemporary religious life stands and how we might be inclined to move to the future. The first response to world and to history says no to both of them. The second says no to the world and yes to history. The third says yes to the world and no to history, and the fourth says yes to both world and history. 172 Review for Religious Particular examples may clarify these categories. The first response, a spirituality that says no to the world and no to history, might be called an apophatic spirituality, one which comes to a knowledge of God by way of negation. This is the type of spiri-tuality often and somewhat misleadingly known as mystical, for example the kind expressed through such works as The Cloud of Unknowing, or through the works of John of the Cross, or more recently through some of the writings of Thomas Merton. It is important to note that such a spirituality does not necessarily see the world as evil or history and change as meaningless. Rather, such an apophatic spirituality emphasizes that God is beyond any concepts and that the most authentic expression about God is negation of any specific image from world or history. A person goes to the love and knowledge of God through unknowing or through darkness. In our present and our immediate future, in .what the theological essay describes as "the dialectic between divine absence and presence" (Johnson, p. 23) such a spirituality and the postmodern experience of God may increasingly find sup-port in each other. A second type of spirituality finds an expression of the authen-tic not in the world but in history, that is, in change and conver-sion. In saying no to the world but yes to history, it is a prophetic type of spirituality. For example, the Old Testament prophets offer both judgments and interpretations of history. Through his radical poverty, Francis of Assisi said no to the abuse of material wealth that his world of the early 13th century was involved in; in so doing he gave to the poor a sign of hope in a God faithful to his promises. Such a prophetic spirituality is often characterized by living one or more of the gospel values to an extreme. Such a spirituality surely informed the first examples of religious life among the desert fathers and mothers of the Egyptian Thebaid. Other examples of such a prophetic spirituality, in addition to Francis and his poverty, would be early Christians spurning the world and awaiting the call of martyrdom and contemporary Christians motivated by the gospel to practice civil disobedience. Today, as the theological essay puts it, when accepted "forms are breaking down, interpretive support systems, are collapsing, rift~ with the institutional church exacerbate the darkness, [and] many members are in distress" (Johnson, p. 24), we may have a situation in which religious congregations say no to a world that is passing and say yes to a hoped-for change to a more fully gospel-inspired March-April 1994 173 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times future "in the risk that God is faithful in judgment and grace" (Johnson, p. 14). ¯ Third, what might be called a "locational" or a "city of God" spirituality says yes to the world and no to history. But here the When we seek a stable world and way of living in it or when we focus on a particular community or place or on our own hearts, we localize ideal, unchanging circumstances, bringing a changeless "city of God" dimension to our spiritual lives. world may be a world. Th~ authentic is located in one special place, in a world, geographical, psychological, temporal, theological, to the exclusion of other place's, with the changeless-ness that the fulfillment of that king-dom implies; that place then becomes a reflection of the kingdom of God. For St. Benedict it was the monastery as the place in which to live out the Rule. For The Imitation of Christ it is the safety of our own hearts where "you will see the kingdom of God come into your soul." For some it is the familiar church of pre-Vatican II observances. This type of spirituality may be the most common type throughout Christian history. It has also been one of the characteristics of every other type of spirituality and a force for stability in the midst of chaos, It may be an especially inviting and understandable spiri-tuality for those who have just come through a revolution. VChen we seek a stable world and way of living in it or when we focus on a particular community or place or on our own hearts, we are highlighting a way, or place that has worked for us. As a conse-quence we localize ideal, unchanging circumstances, bringing a changeless "city of God" dimension to our spiritual lives. Finally, there is a spirituality which answers yes both to world and tb history. This can be called an apostolic spirituality. To avoid misunderstanding the term and its application to religious life, let it be~ clear that everyone, of course, even in the most con-templative order, is called in some way to apostolic endeavor, to a life committed to the spread of the kingdom of God. But not everyone is necessarily called to an apostolic spirituality, a'spiri-tuality which seeks God primarily through involvement in the world and the transformation of its history. Ideally, such an apos- 174 Review for Religious tolic spirituality sees the world and history as a locus for trans-formation and for self-transformation. Most of the orders and congregations founded since the Reformation, and especially since the beginning of the 19th century, have been inspired by the ideal of an apostolic spirituality. But because the church since the Reformation, the Enlightenment, and the French Revolution has often made quite hostile judgments of the world and of history or change, this is a difficult double stance to maintain. One can easily multiply examples of church mistrust and con-demnation of the world as a source of self-transformation. And even if we have often thought the world could be such a source of self-transformation provided it had a different history or pro-vided we managed to change it, we can easily multiply examples of church mistrust and condemnation of change as a source of self-transformation, especially if it were suggested that change should apply to religious orders and more especially to the church. The way in which to give positive answers to both world and his-tory can vary greatly. Several of the 16th- and 17th-century Catholic reform reli-gious orders of women are examples of an attempt to do so. Mary Ward had a vision of such a spirituality for her Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary and attempted to put it into practice. But the apostolic group, of "that incomparable woman," as Pius XII called her in praise, was forced out of existence by an uncompre-hending Vatican in the 17th century, only to be papally approved in the 19th century. The Sisters of St. Joseph, of the same 17th century, quietly and obscurely flourished, in part because while liv-ing such an apostolic spirituality, they called no widespread atten-tion to it. The members of the Society of Jesus, for the end proposed to them by its founder, Ignatius Loyola, who could "find God in all things," were supposed to find the self-transformation of holiness through an involvement with the world in spreading the ldngdom of God. It was a world that Ignatius and his first companions knew by experience was changing and needed new ways of living and preaching the gospel. But it was very difficult to get across to many of the next gene?ations of Jesuits that both present world and inevitable change were to be taken seriously as part of a Jesuit apostolic spirituality. In its more recent his-tory, the Society of Jesus in its spirituality continues to seek for "the conversion of the individual," but it also wants to help "to transform the world into a fit habitation for justice and human- March-April 1994 175 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times ity." In so choosing a double yes, it recognized the need to take seriously both the world around it and history, process, develop-ment, and change. In the 19th century, when the Society of Jesus was univer-sally restored after the French Revolution, it could not and did not For all of the 19th century, religious, life inclined heavily not to an apostolic spirituality, with a yes both to world and to history, but rather to a locational or "city of God" spirituality, with a yes indeed to the world but with a no to history or change. both the real successes wish to deny the world itself as the locus of its endeavor. It could hardly do so and be authentically Jesuit. But that world was in the midst of great change, and the church and all religious orders, including the Jesuits, were acutely uncomfortable with change and reluctant to respond pos-itively to it. In the midst of a world in which they had never been more active and thought they had an apostolic spiri-tuality, the church and religious orders were not only uncomfortable with that world as they found it, but also often nos-talgic for a past world and in fear of a world changing yet more before their eyes. In such circumstances, for all of the 19th century, religious life inclined heav-ily not to an apostolic spirituality, with a yes both to world and to history, but rather to a locational or "city of God" spirituality, with a yes indeed to the world but with a no to history or change. This fundamental attitude may help to explain and the real failures of the 19th-century structures and activities and spirituality of religious life with which most orders'and congregations lived until Vatican II. More gen-erally it also may help to explain the puzzlement; the ambiguity, even the dismay with which religious life looked around after Vatican II and could not fathom where it stood or how it expressed its relationships with the world and with history. Which one of the four sets of responses to the world and to history best characterizes the spirituality of most religious life today? When the question is put that way, there is not and should not be a single, monolithic answer. Fidelity to the originating charism and "to the spirit of the founder and responsiveness to critical and unmet human needs" imply and indeed mandate both 176 Review for Religious such a diversity in religious congregations and such an overriding purpose that, as a result, each congregation, in order to be true to itself, will have a response particular to itself, a response which at the same time will always look to those needs. There is a yet deeper question. Why answer.at all? Why reli-gious life at all? What was quoted earlier in this essay still remains the fundamental answer: "The only reason for religious life is the experience of God." It is not only in religious life, of course, that a person experiences God, but that fundamental experience, how-ever dark or bright, however tumultuous or serene, however unin-terrupted or intermittent, has to anchor our experience of the world in the midst of time and our responses to the world and to history or change. The Response to Need Let us return now to the three points at which the question why was raised, the three times in the modern world at which religious life experienced major change in church and world and thus also in itself. Just as at the beginning of religious life in the Egyptian desert and through its earlier centuries, so also, in the post-Reformation church and the post-Revolution church, reli-gious life was a response to a need. For the monks and nuns of the desert, it was a need to live out the gospel and to follow the Lord more faithfully than they thought they could in a society in which the Constantinian church and empire had made peace and had come to rely on each other. In the counter-Reformation century, religious congregations, of direct apostolic service especially, arose in response to the Catholic revival that emphasized a renewed preaching of the gospel (hence congregations for urban retreats and country missions); works of charity (hence religious commu-nities that worked in orphanages and hospitals and prisons); the centrality of the sacraments (hence congregations devoted to urg-ing the reception of confession and Communion); the outward expansion of the gospel to newly discovered worlds (hence for-eign- mission congregations)~ and Christian education (hence con-gregations that took on schools and colleges and seminaries and the publishing of pious books and pamphlets and tracts of all kinds). "Active" religious congregations, both new ones and reformed and revitalized ones, arose in response to specific needs, religious and secular, of church and civic community. As for the March-/ltrri11994 177 Padberg * In the Midst of the Times more cloistered or so-called "contemplative" orders, while they did indeed grow, growth was much slower and reform of the inter-nal life of the community was more the norm. When one asks why the apostolic-service orders grew so dra- When one asks why the apostolic-service orders grew so dramatically in the 19th century, response-to-need again seems the fundamental answer. matically in the 19th century, response-to-need again seems the fundamental answer. In Europe a shattered institutional structure had to be rebuilt. Many of the old and formerly religious educational and social institutions had been confiscated by the state, which was often at least determinedly secularist and often actively anticlerical. The second great wave of European colonial expansion into Asia and Africa took place, with the consequent open-ing of mission fields. Meanwhile the church in the persons of its highest officials and of .most of its members was determinedly con-servative and often actively hostile to the polit-ical, social, c~altural, and intellectual currents of the age. Frequently, then, European Catholics thought that only institutions parallel to but indepen-dent of the state would "protect the faith." To respond to those needs as thus perceived, new religious congregations arose locally, regionally, and nationally. Their founders and their members had maps, the almost unchanged Tridentine rules and regulations, expressed and implied and still unquestioned, of church and reli-gious life. They had the experience of present but traditional unmet needs. They responded, generously and heroically, within the boundaries of that map. They had little imaginative ability to see unmet needs that were new. But neither did the church, for example, in the case of the socially unjust consequences of the Industrial Revolution. In the,United States of the 19th century, the circumstances were somewhat the same, somewhat different, The rules and reg-ulations of religious life were the same as in Europe, but the insti-tutions of Catholic life had to be built up from the beginning, and, as the century went on, the building had to take place right in the midst of an immigrant flood of poor, uneducated Catholics coming into a vastly different and somewhat hostile environment: Here, too, the need seemed to be for institutions to protect the faith of the immigrants and to introduce them into American 178 Revie'w for Religious society. To respond to those needs, here, too, new apostolic or "active" congregations arose and old ones established branches in the United States. They too had the same maps; they knew from experience that those maps had to be modified, simultane-ously felt guilty when they did so, and were often unable to offer to Rome a theoretical basis for the changes. While apt at devis-ing new strategies in traditional apostolates, those congregations, too, lacked the imaginative ability to see unmet needs that were new, for example, in the case of the black population and the unjust institutions of slavery and then of segregation. But at least through the 19th century and up to the end of World War II and the assimilation of the Catholic population into the economic and social mainstream of American society, the active religious congregations responded visibly and successfully to the immedi-ate educational, social, and economic needs of American Catholics. At the third major upheaval in religious life, the one follow-ing Vatican II, religious were called on not, of course, to tear up the old maps and discard them, but surely to revise them thor-oughly in the light of:the council's teaching. But such revision is not a short-term, easily~done task. Religious life in the United States is still at it and, from an historian's point of view, has not been at it very long yet, not even quite a full human generation. For Americans, used to quick results, this seems both intolerable and discouraging. And the analogy of map ~revision can only be partial, since not simply documents but also attitudes, insights, and patterns of practice enter into such a revision. As for experience, the theological essay describes well the "social, economic, and political forces at work in the culture of the United States [as] contributing to changes in religious life" (Johnson, p. 10). All of those forces, even those least direcdy con-nected with the church or religious life, have been part of the context of our experience of that life since Vatican II. They have modified both our reading of the maps of the past from which we came and our tentative responses to the present. The imagi-nation to see how to put those experiences to positive use in con-temporary religious life is still in short supply. What we need most is the imagination to conceive of what we want that future to be. ' March-April 1994 179 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times Something is going to happen to religious life in the United States over the next ten years. What will it be? Future History as a Conclusion An historian is really not a prophet in any of the usual dic-tionary meanings of that word. He or she neither "utters divinely inspired revelations" nor is "gifted with more than ordinary spir-itual and moral insight" nor "foretells future events" nor necessarily is "an effective and lead-ing spokesperson for a cause, doctrine, or group." But near the conclusion of these reflec-tions, an historian might urge on the readers of this essay an exercise sometimes called "future history," an exercise within which one can think about the future with realism and imagination. Briefly, taken literally, the exercise asks present participants in an activity or institution to write here and now but as if from a particular point in the future at least part of the history of what "has" happened in order to get to that future. It thereby requires the participants to imagine what might have happened and to select those things which they think most likely to happen to bring about that imagined future. The purpose, quite frankly, is to provoke people to turn their minds to the future decade. Something is going to happen to religious life in the United States over the next ten years. What will it be? That exercise in future history begins by looking back from the year 2005. What will have happened to religious life in the United States? For example, imagine the community of which you are a part enjoying in the year 2005 a successful existence in the service of the gospel, the church, and the human community. What characteristics describe that success? How did the com-munity achieve that success? Most importantly, what five impor-tant decisions were made by the community in 1994 to 1999, the first five of those years, to make it the success it now is in 2005? On what five things in those five years did you and your com-munity and the ministry you work in and your coworkers come to a consensus which contributed to making your community, its inner life and its exterior works, the success that it is in 2005? The future is in the present in such decisions. This framework for imagining and planning can bring us quickly to concrete details and can gently force us to face up to what we think realistically possible. 180 Review for Religious Where does one start in developing.such a future history? Perhaps with three questions: First, how would I describe to myself what I think my religious congregation fundamentally is? Second, what are the absolutely essential characteristics of its reli-gious community life? Third, what are the absolutely essential characteristics that any work it undertakes should have, be that work contemplative prayer or civic networking or anything in between? With the best answers in hand that we can presently give to those questions, derived from our present experience of the world in the midst of the times in which we live as religious, we might go on to imagine what ideally we want to be in 2005 and to plan what practically we can do to achieve that goal. Neither an historian nor anyone else could have predicted what as a matter of fact did come after the original Advent. What did take place in the coming of Jesus was a deed that was faithful to God's original purpose and to the origins of our salvation in the fulfillment of God's promises. It was an experience of God between the times, surely thus a postmodern experience in that it broke out of all past and present categories, and also a deed that con-tinues to be active even in the midst of times in the presence of the Holy Spirit in a world still "charged with the grandeur of God." That post-Advent deed and its consequences are the foundation for the yet unimagined post-Pentecost future of religious life. Notes ' Page numbers refer to Elizabeth A. Johnson CSJ, "Between the Times: Religious Life and the Postmodern Experience of God," as pub-lished in Review for Religious 53, no. 1 (January-February 1994): 6-28; hereafter Johnson. 2 Quotations from the Executive Summary of the study will refer to the text in Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 6- 55; hereafter Summary. 3This structure is taken from an article by E. Edward Kinerk SJ, "Toward a Method for the Study of Spirituality," Review for Religious 40, no. 1 (January 1981): 3-19. March-April 1994 181 DAVID MARIA KNIGHT Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love commitments I spent several years in the confused and glorious hey-day after Vatican II writing and speaking on the goal and value of the re.ligious vows. Inspired by the theology of Karl Rahner, I presented them, in a nutshell, as the "real-symbolic expressing (and therefore experience) of response to the transcendent call of grace." In English this meant that each vow was a way of realizing, of "making real," both to ourselves and to others, the truth of the faith, the hope, the love we were giving to Jesus Christ and his gospel. Poverty is a "real-symbolic" expression of the fact that we have set our hopes for fulfillment and security not on material possessions, but on the riches of the kingdom. Real poverty, voluntarily embraced, is a way of saying we really hope in God's promises, we really place our trust in God. Celibacy is an expression "in the flesh" of our belief that anyone who accepts "the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ" can have with God, now, on this earth, a rela-tionship of love as real as marriage, as satisfying as mar-riage, and as developmental of us as loving persons as the most ideal marriage could be. One does not have to be a celibate to be in spousal relationship with Christ--it is implicit in our baptismal consecration as "brides in the David Maria Knight is a priest of the Memphis diocese. He is a well-known author and speaker. His address is Sacred Heart Church; 1324 Jefferson; Memphis, Tennessee 38104. 182 Revie.w for Religious Bride" who is the church--but the commitment to voluntary celibacy is one way to realize, to make real in flesh and blood and action, the truth of this relationship that our faith tells us about and to experience interiorly the passionate intensity of the love we are giving to God in Jesus Christ. The vow of obedience is a real way of expressing our faith in the active presence of Jesus in the church as true head of his Body on earth, and an expression of confidence that he is able to use us and will use us effectively for the work of the kingdom through the government of those who speak for him with authority in his Body. This was new. It was a departure from the traditional way of explaining the vows as means for overcoming attachment to pos-sessions, desire for sexual pleasure, and pride. The new Catechism of the Catholic Church, although it takes a much more inspiring and positive approach to religious life elsewhere, still describes the "evangelical counsels" as "having as their goal the removal of any-thing which., could be an obstacle to the development of char-ity" (no. 1973). I believe that even if nothing within us were an obstacle to the "perfection of charity" the vows would still be inestimably desirable as passionate expressions, in flesh and blood, of the reality of ourfaith, our hope, our love for God in Jesu~s Christ. Their primary value is not in what they remove, but in what they give: the deep, personal awareness (and witness in the church) of relating to God in passionate faith, hope, and love. I find myself now, however, immersed in lay spirituality. As pastor of a parish--a position I requested precisely to "field test" a plan for.spiritual growth in parishes which I have been devel-oping for ten or fifteen years-- I am fc~cused on preaching and teaching the spirituality of the laity as they are defined in Vatican II (a definition which distinguishes the secular laity from lay reli-gious): those who "live in the world; that is, in each and all of the secular professions and occupations [and who] live in the ordi-nary circumstances of family and social life, from which the very web of their existence is woven." Vatican II not only makes clear, but assumes it is "evident to everyone," that "all the faithful of Christ, of whatever rank or status, are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the per-fection of charity." This, I believe, is the key to all the aftermath of Vatican II. Pastoral ministry has had to refocus.The goal of parish life is no longer to provide the laity with those services they need March-April 1994 183 Knight ¯ Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love to "save their souls." It is to lead the laity, all of them, closer to the "perfection of love." Parish ministry has changed from store keeping to intensive marketing, from a "maintenance spiritual-ity" to a spirituality of growth. Gone are the days when parishes Religious have the personal experience of committing themselves to total response to the gospel and have training and practice in living it which should make them the natural "coaches" for the laity. existed just to provide a preordained set of services, and the only stress on the priest was concern about providing them well. Now every parish is, or should be, a center fomenting desire for "the fullness of the Christian life" in all of its members and pro-viding the motivation, instruction, and sup-port necessary to keep every member growing toward the "perfection of charity." Now every pastor faces the challenge of dis-covering how to do this. And it is not easy; the paths a whole parish can follow to greener pastures are neither familiar nor well -worn. But the goal is clear: parishes exist to support that kind of living in their members which makes the life of every single one of them a "way of perfection"--a term we used to reserve for the vowed life of religious. The life of every Christian should be avis-ible, lived-out response to the first of all commandments: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your strength, with all your mind." Jesus' words "If you would be perfect." are addressed to all. To every one of his followers he says, "Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect., strive first for the king-dom of God." How does religious life fit into all of this? There are some obvious answers we need not dwell on, because they should be evident to everyone: Religious have the personal experience of committing themselves to total response to the gospe.1 and have training and practice in living it which should make them the natural "coaches" for the laity as the whole church turns toward this goal. Also, the "fullness of the Christian life" includes involvement in ministry, which is explicit in our bap-tismal commitment. There is no question about the fact that reli-gious, the majority of whom are nonordained women, are the most experienced and effective "lay ministers," taken as a body, that the church has ever known. In the historical context of what 184 Review for Religious is and not only in the abstract context of what theoretically ought to be, it is still true to say, "If you want it done, get a nun!" But there is another way in which religious life fits into this picture of the "new church" striving en masse for perfection, and I think it is something which must be recognized if the conversion of every Christian way of life into a way of perfection is going to succeed. Religious are examples and models of that dramatic ges-ture which is a key element in launching anyone into passionate relationship with God. When Jesus said to the young man in Matthew's Gospel, "If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor. ," he was giving, not a command and not a "counsel," but an example. The young man came out of a legal-istic tradition. Jesus acknowledged this in the beginning by meet-ing him on his own ground and saying, "If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments." The young man was still thinking legalistically when he said, "Which ones?" so Jesus gave him a list. But when the boy said, "I have kept all these; what do I still lack?" and showed that there was something in him impelling him beyond a religion of law observance, Jesus recognized in him a kindred soul, someone who could learn what he came to teach. Then Jesus said (and now I am paraphrasing), "Well, if you want to live by my 'new way'--if you want to be perfect, to 'live life to the full'--here is something you can do to start with which will show that you understand what it is all about. Go, sell everything you have, and give the money to the poor. Then you can come and follow me." What Jesus was calling for was a dramatic gesture--something that would catapult the young man into another orbit of response to God. He may have been thinking explicitly of the gesture Elisha made when Elijah the prophet called him to be his successor: Elijah set out, and came upon Elisha, son of Shaphat, as he was plowing with twelve yoke of oxen; he was following the twelfth. Elijah went over to him and threw his cloak over him. Elisha left the oxen, ran after Elijah, and said, "Please, let me kiss my father and mother good-bye, and I will fol-low you." "Go back!" Elijah answered. "Have I done any-thing to you?" Elisha left him and, taking the yoke of oxen, slaughtered them; he used the plowing equipment for fuel to boil their flesh, and gave it to his people to eat. Then he left and followed Elijah as his attendant (1 K 19:19-21). March-April 1994 185 Knight * Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love Jesus asks all, takes all, is worth all. Why did not Elisha just have one of his workers lead the oxen back to the barn and put up the equipment while he left with Elijah? The answer is obvious: After what he had said to Elijah and Elijah to him, Elisha felt the need to make a dramatic gesture, just to show how willing he was to leave everything immediately and give himself to the service of God. This gesture was necessary, not only to win Elijah's confidence, but so that Elisha himself would know, without any shadow of doubt, that he was sweeping everything out of his heart in undivided dedication to what he was called to do. What Jesus said to the rich young man about "selling everything" was just one example of the kind of dramatic gesture which would show that the man understood, before he started to follow Jesus, what the terms of discipleship would be. In a nutshell, Jesus asks all, takes all, is worth all. What he offers is the "pearl of great price" and the "treasure hidden in a field" for which we must be willing to sell every other pearl, even everything we own. What he said to this young man was no dif-ferent from what he said in several places elsewhere. And essentially what Jesus tells the young man is the same thing he proclaims to all when he says, "whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple" (see the whole of this passage, Luke 14:2 5-3 3). Another translation miti-gates for modern ears the Hebrew starkness of "hate fath+r and mother" by making it "turn your back on father and mother." This puts the interior attitude into the form of a dramatic gesture again, but the meaning is the same: "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And if you want to know you do not love father or mothei" more than me, make a dramatic gesture that proves it." Jesus could just as well have told the young man, "If you want to embrace my way, show it by leaving home; abandon your father and mother!" Or he could have used the example Matthew cites right before this and said, "Go make yourself a eunuch for the sake of the kingdom; that will prove you are taking me seriously!" Jesus is a teacher; he.is trying to make a point. It is of no concern to him whether his followers are rich or poor, married or celi-bate, living with their parents or missioned a thousand miles away 186 Review for Religdous from them. They can be living the "perfection of charity" in any of these situations. What Jesus is saying Ks that anyone who authentically follows him must be, in fact, total and undivided in love for God, or at least be consciously committed to such total and undi-vided love. And it is characteristic of human beings that we do not really know what is in our hearts until we express what is in them externally. As 'Karl Rahner puts it, "We do not know that we really believe in the two birds in the bush until we let go of the one bird in the hand." We cannot know that our treasure is in heaven unless in some way we renounce the treasure we have stored up on earth. And if we want to know that we really believe in the invis-ible God in our heart, one effective though rad-ical way to discover it is to give up the visible man or woman in our arms. To launch ourselves into a "way of perfection," we need to make some dramatic, radical gesture which says to us and to others from the outset that we are for real. This is what religious know, what they have experienced, and what the centuries-old tradition of religious life has demonstrated: To launch ourselves into a "way of perfection," we need to make some dramatic, radical gesture which says to us and to others from the outset that we are for real. Jesus Christ is not real to us until we take him for real. And to give up things which are very, very real to us, such as money, marriage, and independence, is a very powerful, passionate way to take him for real. It is authen-tic, it is legitimate, and it works. In the "new" church, which is consciously oriented toward the "perfection of love" as the go.al of every Christian's way of life, religious have the role of witnessing to the need and to the efficacy of expressing dramatically one's commitment to this love. Religious need to understand their vows as the dramatic expres-sion of their own intention to live single-mindedly--in "purity of heart"--in total, passionate, undivided love for God. The vows are a dramatic gesture, but a real one, like that of the bride strip-ping herself for the bridegroom. They are a gesture given daily-- every day, all day--as the expression of enduring, faithfully passionate love. The purpose of the vows is to focus our hearts on the person of Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ offers himself daily in the dramatic gesture of March-April 1994 187 Knight ¯ Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love the Eucharist--"This is my body, given up for you." He asks us to open ourselves physically to him, to receive him into our bodies in the dramatic gesture of Communion which pledges us to be one with him in heart and mind and soul, in the living of our lives and in the offering of our lives together with him, the Lamb of God, for the life of the world. Religious have understood for centuries the significance of this language of love. Whatever else they did or did not do, religious, whenever it was humanly pos-sible, participated in the eucharistic celebration daily. Those men and women who daily lived their lives in love, who daily gave expression through their vows to their passionate intention of loving the Lord their God with their whole heart, whole strength, whole minds, grasped without need of explanation the appropri-ateness of joining themselves to Jesus Christ in the passionate daily expression of his love in the Eucharist. Sometimes people ask, "Why is there no sacramental conse-cration to religious life as there is to marriage and priesthood?" Perhaps an answer is that religious ire not consecrated to a par-ticular function in the church the way priests and married people are; their function as religious is that of all the baptized: to bear witness to Jesus Christ and his gospel in the total, passionate, daily oblation of themselves. But religious, by their particular and different way of life~ do this in an explicitly recognizable way. Religious life, when it is authentically lived, is a visible, convinc-ing sign (as martyrdom is) that total dedication to Jesus Christ is possible, that the grace of undivided love is present and active in the church. Sacraments are "visible signs instituted by Jesus Christ to give grace." Perhaps we can say that religious life is "grace made visible in a total commitment to Jesus Christ that is a sign," In this case the sacramental expression of religious life--as of every Christian life which actually aims at the "perfection of love"--is the eucharistic celebration. Religious, who have .been called to make their lives a dramatic gesture of love, celebrate the meaning of their vocation when they join themselves to the dramatic expression Jesus gives to his passion, to his passionate love, every day in the Mass. 188 Review for Religious THERESA MANCUSO Quest for an Undivided Heart On a dark autumn night in Far Rockaway, the rough Atlantic lurches and rolls up the sand. The tide is coming in. Foamy waves crash along the shore, filling rocky crevices with a salty spray, dislodging, sometimes, the fearless gulls that perch precariously on the jetty's edge waiting for their prey, regardless of season, regardless of cold. High up on a boulder overlooking the surf, I perch myself, silent in the coming night, watchful as my three German Shepherd dogs dart back and forth into the water playing tag along the beach. A ripe harvest moon hovers above, the only source of light as the gathering darkness wraps the shore in stillness. Alone now except for the roaring sea,which seems alive in its noisy motion, we are sandwiched here between heaven and earth, time and eter-nity. It is a good place to think, a great place to pray. In this deserted cathedral of earth and sky and sea, I often find renewal for my soul. Solitude, silence, and surrender calm and soothe when I am lonely or afraid or when, perchance, I have momen-tarily lost sight of the vision that impels me. Many-splendored master that it is, the sea is both healer and challenger and the everlasting Face of the Deep is forever a reminder of human lone-liness, longing for God. Many years ago in the romanticism of adolescence, like many others, I was drawn and fascinated by the ideals of religious life and led to embark on a spiritual journey on which celibacy, con- Theresa Mancuso's article "Prayer, Memories, and God" was published in our July-August 1993 issue. She'lives at 448 Seventh Avenue; Brooklyn, New York 11215. March-April 1994 189 Mancuso ¯ Quest for an Undivided Heart secrated chastity, was considered the pearl of great price. For the crown of Sponsa Christi, the young religious was inspired to sac-rifice the heart, forgetful of every, human longing--not knowing for sure all it entailed. To the precious star of chastity we set our sails so long ago and far away, willing to journey through the per-ilous waters of life, armed only with faith and emboldened by the little we knew or understood about reality or ourselves. Maturity was far off, then, as we took ,.the golden chalice of chastity with both our hands, intent on draining it to the dregs. Time folded round about us like the arms of the sea as decade by decade we were washed in the flood of human experience from which there is no return. There is a solitude and silence deep in the heart of conse-crated celibacy, a surrender that echoes in the still point of the soul. Despite the changes time inscribes on the idealism of youth, it is a refreshing experience to meet today's consecrated virgins, men and women of various ages for whom religious chastity has never lost its meaning. Of their lives and their experiences, let us take note. The consecrated virgin is rather little understood and even less appreciated in the modern world. Nevertheless, religious chastity is still the sign and seal of the kingdom of God among us. We try not to forget where we came from or where we are going. There is something indelibly written in the human heart by the vow of chastity. Regardless of all the changing cultural mores in the world about us, regardless, too, of our own restless hearts, the unspeakable beauty of this vow is bound up to the essential integrity it sustains, the quest and achievement of an undivided heart. When those of us who vowed our lives to consecrated chastity long ago and far away confront the reality of today, who we are and what we. have become, deep questions await us. Have we emerged through the years with undivided hearts? Have we found the pearl of great price? Has chastity given us power to love all God's chil-dren, to nurture the world in the spirit of faith, to sustain great and noble friendships without losing the balance of a virginal heart? Is celibacy still our pearl of great price, or has it become an embarrassment to us in a world of sexual adventure,., excess, and casual alliances? Doe's chastity still shine within us with the light of happiness that shone in the promises of youth, or is our love for 190 Review for Reli~ous the celibate ideal so damaged by time and tarnished by temptation that it is long forgotten, pushed to the back of our mind as if, indeed, we had never given ourselves to God? Have we grown tired of trying? Have we lost our precious pearl? The.monk (monachos) or nun (monache) stands in the breach of the universe, a marginal person, monos-- alone. In that desert there is solitude, silence, and surrender, but there is also tenderness, joy, freedom, and peace, the gifts of the Spirit and the happiness of an undivided heart. To be alone with God in the vastness of time is sometimes frightening. We came to religious life burning with desire for union with God. The spiritual goals of enlighten-ment and self-giving called us to surrender our entire existence, everything,, right down to the deepest longings in the human heart. How shall we know if the promise has been fulfilled within us? Eschewing too much analysis, it is not with-out merit to examine ourselves with regard to chastity, for what we paid the greatest price for shall indeed be our sweetest con-solation. The reality of celibacy takes us into solitude, not once and for all, but over and over again. Every time we face the silent stillness of an unencumbered life, we recognize the act of sur-render (for there is really no other alternative), an act that leads time and time again straight to the heart of God. Along this way the saints have gone, and we may follow. Monks and nuns are not alone in celebrating the joy of the undivided heart. Many others, to be sure, in the world about us, have sacrificed sexual expression for the love of God, the practice of intensified religious living, the service of others, and the deepening freedom of the human spirit. Why be celibate in a world exploding with sexuality? Why be chaste in a society glutted by sensual allurement? Why refrain from instant and immediate gratification? The promise of chastity remains today what it has always been, an uninterrupted, pro-foundly unifying discipline of the heart, a calming of emotion. Apatheia. Passionlessness. The emptying of explosive divisive attachment. Our long journey-to God is a quest for an undivided The reality of celibacy takes us into Solitude, not once and for all, but over and over again. March-April 1994 191 Mancuso ¯ Quest for an Undivided Heart Chastity for the kingdom of God shines beside marital chastity as a vocation complete and magnificent in itself. heart, stripped of attachment to all that is not he. Kenosis. Emptying. But we do not strive to abandon passion in order to be phlegmatic zombies. We do not strive to over-come attachment so that we can be cold, mechanical people, devoid of love. Instead, chastity is the baptism of all our feelings, all our emotions, the freeing of all the power within us, zest for life, creative energy. Chastity is the focus of our vision on God,or it is nothing. Celibacy asks its practitioner to pour out its most intimate being, not into the void, but into the Total Ultimate that is God. Chastity calls for continual repentance, continual surrender. Metanoia. Change of heart. The surrender of sexual distraction and satisfaction removes from a human being those concerns about intimacy that. often eat up the larger portion of human consciousness and creative preconsciousness. The heart that is focused on God is empowered to love and embrace the entire world, not for self-satisfaction, but with gen-uine and authentic interest and care. Our consecrated celibacy should make us more loving, more caring, more gentle and tender, compassionate and kind. That is the reality of an undivided heart. To be all things to all for the love of God, unselfishly, with purity of heart--that is the joy of chastity, the empowerment of the virgin. When today the world scoffs at virginity, it acts and reacts without understanding or knowledge of what it truly is. Our quest for an undivided heart is not futile, not wasted. It is the journey of courage that takes us into the fullness of God's abiding presence, more and more revealed to us proportionately as we lay aside all that is not God. The whole point of celibacy is union with God, nothing more and nothing less. Chastity is free-dom from the pursuit of pleasure and popularity, freedom from encrustations of endless self-adornment for the sake of vanity or "sex appeal," freedom from uncontrolled emotion and undisci-plined desire--indeed, freedom from self in areas where self may be the worst enemy. We do not posit'the beauty of consecrated chastity over against marital chastity, but beside it, its sister state. Chastity for the kingdom of God shines beside marital chastity as a vocation 192 Review.for Religious complete and magnificent in itself. Monos, alone. The splendor of the celibate heart is not servile frigidity nor some holier-than-thou imagined adornment of the soul. The consecrated virgin is not opposed to the married; the virgin lives as ultimate marriage of the spirit. The splendor of celibacy is the quickening of abil-ity to embrace the world unselfishly and bring God's love back into it. By surrendering one's right to nurture one's own offspring, one is free to take the children of humanity into one's deepest embrace and to love and serve them forever. Celibacy is a font of energy in the undivided heart, a direEting of the life force to the Life Giver. We need never be ashamed for having made this choice--indeed, for having been chosen for it. Most religious have tasted the price of celibacy. Many have traveled far from the safety of religious communities in which the vows were made, those havens where temptation was kept very much at bay. Unexpqsed and untested, we thought ourselves pure. Later, mind and heart were tested by the real world. The promise of celibacy is far deeper than all the dreams 'and aspira-tions of our youth. Life has a way of sweeping away illusion. One by one we find ourselves devoid of excuses, alone in the wilder-ness wfiere we must do battle against the pull of desire. But God teaches us quietly with relentless compassion until we understand the vigorous truth of what it is all about. And then the years are gone. Single-mindedness in the undivided heart bears fruit in quiet happiness. One finds, after all, that God is always with us, his love underpinning everything we are, everything we do. All earthly delights pale beside the effulgence of God reveal-ing himself to those who seek him with a pure heart. Immersed in him completely, we are given a new ability to focus on the things that really matter. Nor should we think of celibacy as just a physical state. It is more a state of mind, a field of completion for the soul, a refin-ing instrument that fine-tunes emotion. Chastity with diligent constancy chips and chisels all the corners of the human heart. It makes us who we are, but slowly, slow. We are forever becom-ing. As the sea chips and chisels the shore, so does celibacy remove the dross of selfishness as it refines the heart. Not without pain. Not without suffering. But, most importantly, not without joy. I watch a gull swoop down into the waves, taking his catch from the sea. The small fish is caught, devoured, by the power-ful beak of the gull, for this is nature's way. Then the lonely sea March-April.1994 193 Mancuso ¯ Quest for an Undivided Heart Our quest for an undivided heart seems to take a whole lifetime. gull flies up out of the wave and is lost to sight in the evening sky. It reminds me that I, too, fly alone over the'ocean of life, single in the world, without a mate, for one great purpose, God. The gull and I are one for this single fleeting moment as the night steals on and the only sound in the darkness is the song of the sea. Two beings in the universe, separate and complete, starkly alone. Somehow in thavfleeting moment I come to understand why I choose .celibacy. All the props have disappeared since the day on which I promised chastity to God. It is very different now, the life I am leading, Those who inspired me have vanished from the earth in the sweet embrace of death or are far away from me. Our destinies, once so closely entwined, grew separate through the years. The whole world has changed, but the heart remains the same. Over time we face our dragons, such as they are. There is no exemption. Life batters the foundations on which religious vows are built. Suffering and sin touch everyone. The best we can do is to keep on choosing God first, for he has chosen us. To keep on choosing God is to celebrate the vow of celibacy for the love of God and for no other reason. To keep one's eye on the goal is to remain in an undivided heart. All along the way we just keep fac-ing ourselves, as we are, for better or for worse. Staggering truths reveal themselves, but they do not come home to us all at once. As the years unfold, bit by bit we uncover the truths of who and what we really are. Life insists that we go beyond the images, far beyond our misconceptions and imaginings. Sometimes it is a painful, searing journey. Our quest for an undivided heart seems to take a whole lifetime. It was not the work of the novitiate nor completed in the ceremony of vow day. The richness of the vowed life dawns slowly a long way down the road from where we started. As the moon rises higher in the sky over Rockaway, the dark-ness fills with a luminous aura. The sea quiets down as the tide rests inland. The dogs hunker down beside me, digging deep cav-erns in the sand to lie down in. Questions of celibacy have long challenged me, not just tonight, but many nights for more than a quarter of a century. Now, in this luminous nightfall on the shore, all inne~ rhythms find themselves attuned to the sand and sea and sky. One with the universe for a single moment, the burdens of a 194 Revie~ for Religious lifetime fall silently into the waves. Configured in stark simplic-ity, it suddenly makes sense, lt's all about an undivided heart. I did not notice the stars coming out slowly in the black dome of sky as the evening wore on. They twinkle now light years away, far above me. There they are just as they have always been. But I didn't notice them, not until now. Only now do I see them clearly, a starry quilt across the heavens wrapping land and sea in the blanket of their glory. The whole point and purpose of religious chastity seems suddenly at last so clear, so complete. The quest for an undivided heart. Through it we are called to create an interior environment free from the remnants of undisciplined love, unrea-sonable attachment, self-centered emotionalism, and the display of ego. Celibacy re~noves distraction from the undivided heart. One consecrated to celibacy still stands in this troubled world as a sign of the kingdom of God as the stars stand from age to age, forever. Gathering my things, I descend the rocks and leave the beach, dogs at my side. The stars are twinkling high above and the sea's roar is silent. Everything is still as the fullness of nighttime falls. The burden of loneliness is gone; commotions of the mind are silent. With renewed conviction I head for home, focused, for a while at least, on the pearl of great price that once was mine and calls me still to the undivided heart that finds its all in God. Vocation Poets and prophets Are born to bleed And orily lesser ones weep. To have heard and held in hollow heart a word Seared lips al~ne may speak Is glory enough--is glory indeed! Janet Benish March-April 1994 195 BRIAN C. YATES Imaged Celibacy: A Reflection for Priests This reflection on celibacy considers the imagination in e life of a celibate. To put the theme bluntly: Do I see and imagine myself as a celibate? Do I see my celibate self as a lov-ing and lovable man? The apostolic exhortation "I Will Give You Shepherds" (Pastores dabo vobis, 7 April 1992) says, "The gift of self, which is the source and synthesis of pastoral charity, is directed to the church" (§23). My query is this: Is the self that comes to mind in these questions and in this statement my real and true self, or is it in practice my false self?. My false self--using Thomas Merton's distinction--is what may be described as my mask, my shadow, my empirical self, the self I develop in my own likeness rather than in the likeness of God. I develop the false self to cope with the trials of life; it is the self I project and display to the outer world of people and experience. The true self, on the other hand, is that deeper new reality which lies hidden within me as the image of God, the word of God that I am, the new man described by St. Paul. To paraphrase Merton, the real I is simply one's self and nothing more, one's self as it is in the eyes of God. First, then, do I as a celibate try to work at making my false self celibate? Do I attempt to accomplish the task of making who I think I ought to be celibate? Such an approach is all of my own doing--granted all the goodwill in the world--and is prone to utter frustration. Why? Because celibacy needs to be linked not to Brian C. Yates, a diocesan priest, writes for us from Galilee House; 60B Blair Street; Bondi, N.S.W. 2026; Australia. 196 Review for Religious the false, unreal, pretended self, but rather to the real self. I am firmly of the opinion that many of us celibates have tried to make our false selves celibate. It is, however, only when we get in touch with our real selves by honest and true self-knowledge and awareness that we accept ourselves as created by God in his own image and likeness. We then accept the word of God that each of us is. Only when we discover our true self and discover the real-ity of God dwelling within us can we admit that our identity rests on our being loved by God who dwells within. By throwing off the hold the false self has on me, I become open to the gifting of the Holy Spirit. The "Come, Holy Spirit" invocation is a cry from the true self, not the false self. Second, do I image myself as a celibate loving and lovable man? I propose that celibacy thrives as a reality in our lives only when our graced active imag-ination never lets us forget that we possess it as a gift of the Spirit of God. In other words, if celibacy is not imaged as a desired gift, it will not continue to be there as a gift or in any other way. The invitation to image is suggested by Jesus' question "What are you looking for?" (Jn 1:38). Men who have been ordained to the priesthood have been so gifted because, over the course of years, they have imaged priesthood and celibacy as the gifts they are. The art of imaging is not fantasy or mental picture making, nor is it a means of escaping reality and life's demands. Rather, it is the way which Providence uses to get us into the real. It is the energy and power of one's mental faculty that operates through the medium of images, symbols, myths, stories, and parables--for example, the kingdom of heaven is like a pearl of great price, a dragnet, a hidden treasure, a festive wedding banquet. Imaging is a way of knowing--it is beyond mere reason and rational thought. When we image, we intuit and we use our feelings, emotions, and memories, without excluding logic and planning. In fact, these latter ingredients prevent us from sinking into mere reverie or daydreaming. The process of imaging has been aptly caught by the saying that "we tend to create what we love." Do I love celibacy? That is the question. The desire, under grace, to image is encouraged by St. Bernard's remark "The desire is the pledge of the fulfillment of the Imaging is a way of knowing-- it is beyond mere reason and rational thought. March-April 1994 197 Yates * Imaged Celibacy The image of celibacy has a life of its own, a life to be subsequently realized in practice. desire" and by Ricoeur's observation that to change behavior we .need to change the image. I propose that celibates will find their lives greatly enhanced by the practice of imaging celibacy. If one does not image celibacy as a gift to the true self, much energy will be exercised on the task of avoiding temptation, of coping, of excessive concern about the quality of interpersonal relationships, of asking "How far can I go?" or expressing one's sexuality in inappropriate ways, of offering up dif-ficulties, of living encumbered by suppression and repression, of merely tolerating the law of celibacy from outside as a technical requirement of ministry. When a man images celibacy as a gift to himself and practices a celibate lifestyle as a loving and lov-able person, he authors his own life as a free disci-ple of the Lord. Freedom and life are the results of such imaging and such practice. The image of celibacy has a life of its own, a life to be subse-quently realized in practice. As long as it stays healthy by being consciously lived, this life of celibacy prevents a takeover by outside factors. On our spiritual journey the passionate energy of imaging is aptly expressed in Luke's preamble to the Last Supper. Jesus' image is proclaimed: "I have greatly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer." This image, this desire, was acted upon by Peter and John: "Go and prepare our Passover for us" (Lk 22:7-16). The imaged desire of Jesus became a reality--it hap-pened. The Beatitude "Blest are the single-hearted for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8) further captures the imaged energy of the celi-bate. This blessed "sight of God" is shown again in the imaged and vigorously implemented desir~ of Zacchaeus to see Jesus. His running out in front and climbing the sycamore tree secured the presence of Jesus in his house that very day (Lk 19:1-10). Annie Dillard, in her story of the Weasel in Teaching a Stone to Talk, writes of "people taking vows of poverty, chastity, and obe-dience by choice. The thing is to stalk your calling., to grasp your one necessity and not let it go." If their vision has become blurred, celibates need to regain appropriate ways of imaging their choice of celibacy--they must stalk their calling. They must do this in conjunction with their own self-knowledge and aware-ness, their conscience and their value system, They must not shun 198 Review Jbr Religious the effort involved in such imaging and such living. They must keep looking in the right direction, in season and out of season: "They shall look on him whom they have pierced" (Jn 19:37). The Sacred Temple You will find your way by the grace of God over the broad dirt road through the merchant mob: the press of children selling holy cards, the pretty, gypsy girls and brown, drunken bards yelling: "No. no plaster., alabastert." as the ocean air fills with rum and laughter rum and laughter Scattering seagulls like failed prayer's fruit in a once quiet place the mob is upon you pushing, tugging, pulling at your jacket with old gum and bloody, sad gods of plastic their playfully wild dogs between your feet looking, whining, growling for something to eat something to eat But, then your senses blur. You are taken into, away, beyond the soul awakens where the bright sweetness of eternal Light consumes that crazy mob of our false delights where the Word of God draws with gentle bands and you know and are known where the birds fly home to the holy land. John Boyd OSB March-April 1994 199 JOANNE MARIE GREER Needed: An Ethic of Memories challenges In my current careei- I teach and supervise religious who are in training as pastoral counselors in M.A. and Ph.D. programs. Personal memories, memories of inter-personal exchhnges and relationships, are very live issues for these trainees, both in their emerging clinical compe-tence and in their own processing of their own pasts. This article is a result of my reflections deriving from my work with the students. Those reflections were crystallized by the following incident. Quite by accident I met Maria, someone who turned out to be a link to my past of almost forty years ago. I found that Maria was a close current friend of Anna, some-one I had known rather well in high school and also been with in the novitiate. I had moved to another part of the country and had not seen Anna since. Further exchanges ensued: "Well, do you know X?" "Did you know Y? . Did you also live under Mother Z, and what did you think of her?" "Did you visit such and such a place?" and so forth. Then my new acquaintance said, "Oh, by the way, my friend Anna is sometimes called [a slightly salacious nickname] within her community. No one will tell me the story behind it." With a moment's reflection on my part, I was able to supply the embar-rassing information, which came from Anna's life around age sixteen, When she and I were schoolmates. Joanne Marie Greer PhD is director of research in the Pastoral Counseling Department of Loyola College; 7135 Minstrel Way, Suite 101; Columbia, Maryland 21045 200 Review for Religious Later I was reporting this incident to Susan, a current-day friend. I had felt troubled by the exchange with Maria about Anna's nickname, but could not put my finger on the reason. I was certainly not jealous of Anna's friendship with Maria. Anna had not been a close friend of mine, and I had not thought of her in years. My friend Susan reproached me for telling the mean-ing of the nickname, saying: "What you remember of Anna does not belong to you. It belongs to you and Anna together. If Anna had wanted her current-day friend to know this about the past, she would have told her herself. Besides, when Maria tells Anna what she knows, Anna will be troubled. She will wonder what else you may tell Maria about the past." I conceded that Susan was right, and felt 'there was some deep wisdom in her comment. I continued thinking about it off and on for several days. I finally concluded that this apparition from my past had caused me to momentarily regress in my judgment in a way which I still regret. But it may be useful to describe how I reached this conclusion. In this way my medium--this article--becomes part of my message, that memory is a volatile and indeterminate thing. As a psychoanalyst I have learned the professional discipline of analyzing my own thoughts carefully whenever I feel troubled, lest my lurking disturbance throw me off balance in my clinical work. Initially I set out to trace my own free associations to the exchange about Anna's nickname and to Susan's subsequent reproach. The first thing I recalled was working in the novitiate of my order, and the secrets I had painfully held within. I then moved on to the memory of seeing the pain of the novice mistress when it got back to her what gossipy and critical-things the departed trainees had said about her to their relatives and friends. I had found the novice mistress a very difficult work supervisor, and I understood the diffuse anger of the disappointed, disaffiliated postulants and novices. I resolved, however, that if I ever left the order (as I afterwards did) I would keep its dirty laundry to myself. I simply did not want to cause such pain, and I cut off all mem-ories to guard against remembering and talking. I went so far in this that none of my in-laws even knew that I had spent ten years in the convent. Memory .is a volatile and indeterminate thing. March-April 1994 201 Greer ¯ Needed: An Ethic of Memories Another association that came to mind was to a recurring cur-rent- day announcement in my parish bulletin, inviting people to join a counseling group entitled "Adult Children of Dysfunctional Families." The invitation listed several questions. If one answered yes to these questions, the implication was that one should join this discussion group. I recalled that I always read the list of ques-tions with rising irritation and impatience. I am well aware that the answers to these questions can indicate a multitude of subtle or gross psychological difficulties. I also know that these diffi-culties are unlikely to be helped by ten sessions of parent bashing, however ghastly one's parents may have been. In fact, my experi-ence has been that such discussions often give persons with seri-ous characterological difficulties a new excuse to indulge in self-pity, instead of helping them to effect in themselves hard psy-chological changes. My thoughts then went to some students in my pastoral-coun-seling classes who seemed unable to learn anything abstract because their own memories were so enlivened by the class mate-rial. I had to work against the tendency of these few to turn the class into group therapy. This led my thoughts to my admiration for a student who came to me and said simply, "I don't want to go into details, but I'm dropping your class because it's getting me too upset. I'll take it again in two years, after I've done some work in therapy." I also connected my associations to my original contact with psychoanalysis. At that time I was aware of being quite depressed at the impending death of my mother-in-law and the illness of my young son. I went to my HMO (health maintenance organi-zation) for the twenty sessions of psychotherapy included in my employer's contract. After ten sessions the supervising psychia-trist threw up his hands and said, "Go have psychoanalysis. You spend half your energy avoiding mourning over the loss of your friends in the convent, so you cannot stand up under the pres-sure of the present. We cannot do anything for you in ten more sessions." I took his advice, found it helpful, and became so inter-ested in analysis that I ultimately became an analyst myself. So I had become a "specialist in memories," as a roundabout result of my original avoidance of memories! How did this con-nect to my indiscretion in sharing my memory of the meaning of Anna's nickname and to my subsequent discomfort? I spend part of each day listening to memories that are eatin, g 202 Review for Religious at my clients, my analysands. For their own personal benefit, I almost always discourage them from sharing these memories out-side the sessions. They would dissipate the emotional power gen-erated by private reflection and structured therapeutic work on their memories if they broadcasted them to friends and relatives. That emotional power would then be less available for real per-sonal change. Anger, grief, and disappointment are powerful emotions. In the psyche they are similar to oil or coal that can be converted to fuel, used as energy for action and redirection. Endless talk dissipates rather than concentrates this energy. But I have a second reason, an important ethical one, for discouraging people from sharing these old memories that they discover as we work in therapy sessions. Memory is a tricky thing. What we empha-size, and what we forget, depends not only on what happened, but on our intellectual capacities at the time of the event and on our ability to endure the truth. What we remember is seldom the whole story. Here is the advantage to keeping these memories within the therapy sessions. If kept within the treatment relationship, this potential discrepancy between past facts and current memories is simply more grist for the therapeutic mill. If we discover together a suppression of some aspect of the past, within the ses-sion we can very usefully explore why that bit of information was so carefully forgotten and what change has made it possible to remember now. The layering of memories is such a common-place that psychoanalysis has a special name, "screen memory," for a memory that hides behind it yet another, more traiamatic mem-ory. In a full-length analysis of a person with a traumatic but largely forgotten childhood, I have seen the "screen" layers turn out to be more than two deep. This constitutes an excellent i'ea-son for those in treatment to hold their tongues while continuing to trace the red thread through the tangled skein of their mem-ories. There is, however, yet another ethical aspect to the question of sharing a memory from treatment. Suppose the person in treat-ment decides to give a sibling a play-by-play description of the current status of the therapeutic work. Several major problems ensue, which seem to me to have important ethical dimensions. First of all, the listener may have shared some of the experiences What we remember is seldom the whole story. March-April 1994 ]03 Greet ¯ Needed: An Ethic of Memories in the recovered memories. But the listener may not have a ther-apist or other suitable confidant with whom to work through the feelings stirred up by these confidences. Even if the listener is a current-day friend who did not share the speaker's experiences, the friend .may have had similar experiences which are suddenly brought into working memory. In either case, this recollection occurs, not when the listener chooses and feels ready, but when the speaker thoughtlessly imposes this unexpected psychological task. This is one good reason that therapy per se is a profession and not a friendship task. Professional therapists have been trained to attend to their own intrapsychic reactions to the client's dis-course. The client realistically depends upon this aspect of the therapeutic contract in order to be free of the burden of caring for the therapist's psyche during the sessions. Moreover, the client need feel no guilt at all about burdening the therapist, because the client is paying the therapist to perform this intrapsychic task. It is the therapist's job to have recourse to self-analysis, peer supervision, or a resumption of personal treat-ment if a client's discourse about traumatic memories then arouses troubling feelings and memories in the therapist. To expect this same degree of accommodation from a friend would be exploita-five. Such concomitant self-care cannot be appropriately forced on a nonprofessional in order to make one's friend more "useful" in working through one's past. To force this task upon a friend would be appropriate reason to feel quite guilty. A very serious problem may follow the sharing of one's mem-ories outside of therapy as if they were firm fact. The uncon-scious operates by a set of "primary process" laws. The psychoanalytic term "secondary process" refers to our rational, adult way of thought processing and is roughly equivalent to "rea-soning." In contrast, primary process is the more primitive and imaginative way of thinking that takes place in dreams, creative productions, and memories. In primary process the part may be substituted for the whole, or vice versa; one person may be sub-sfituted for another, or one event for another, because of some yet unnoted logical connection between them. In dream analysis these connections can often be recovered by asking the analysand to systematically free-associate to each element (noun, verb, or adjective) of the dream narrative until the stream of associations runs dry. But in memories per se, often the missing or substituted elements become clear only much later, when the remembering 204 Review for Religious person overcomes resistance to a more accurate memory. The dangers of sharing the "interim drafts" of the final memory should be obvious. Terrible hurts may be imposed on the innocent. But suppose the memory is accurate and stands fast over time in the face of careful analysis? There still seems an ethical prob-lem in broadcasting such a memory. Memory by definition refers to the past. The persons in the memories have current-day rela-tionships with other innocent people. For example, suppose a sib-ling who molested you now has a wife and children. What good would be served by venting one's rage within the family and destroying the peace of the newer family members? One would be obtaining revenge, or at least emotional ventilation, at the expense of the innocent. Certainly the person who recalls experiences of victimization and exploitation has every right to establish a psychological dis-tance from the past abuser. But this can be done without sharing one's thoughts. Further, over the course of a long mental-health treatment or course of counseling, the analysand usually arrives at a position of compassion towards those who caused them suffer-ing in childhood. Even in cases of former physical or sexual abuse, the termination of treatment finds the survivors in a position of forgiveness combined with appropriate self-protection, rather than a position of vengeful attack. This psychological disposition is serendipitously not only more Christian, but also more life enhancing. As we approach the end of treatment, I have sometimes been thanked for insisting on the confidentiality of the ongoing treat-ment. In the heat of remembering, one may wish to confront one's torturers. But later, after the pain has been alleviated, an analysand is often grateful that some small but meaningful rela-tionship remains, for example, with parents who are now under-stood to have been pitifully impaired by their childhoods. After the incident of Anna's nickname, one result of my asso-ciative process was a new realization that middle-aged people who have been, or still are, in a religious order have not one but two families of origin. The usual past practice of admitting very young candidates means that many candidates completed adolescence and entered young adulthood with a second set of parents, the training staff. Moreover, the drastic changes involved in enter-ing a religious order could be expected to cause, and did cause, massive regression in many candidates. This means that, in effect, March-April 1994 205 Crreer * Needed: An Ethic of Memories they spent not only some of adolescence but even all of adoles-cence and some of a second latency period within the cloister. It would be theoretically likely that the usual mechanisms of for-getting childhood trauma, recovering it in garbled form, and feel-ing a need to work through it would be present When is a memory private, and when is it community property? When must it be told, when may it be told, and when must it be kept secret? in such people with regard to t~0 childhoods and two sets of parents. My reflection led me to include myself among those who had such a past and to recall that my main dissatisfaction with my training analyst had been his utter incapacity to imagine my life experience as a young religious. Thus Anna's nickname pointed me to a new task in my ongoing self-analysis. My second realization was a personal grasp of a dilemma'I have listened to many times from the victims of family crimes. When is a memory private, and when is it community property? W-hen must it be told, when may it be told, and when must it be kept secret? I had learned that this question may surface about something as large as incest or as small as a nickname. As in many of the subtle ethical dilemmas in life, there is no pat answer to this question. It is well to keep this in mind. Here a final memory linked with Anna emerged, and I under-stood another of the roots of my early resolve against giving pain by narrating private memories of my past convent experience. In this memory I was a novice, on vacation at a rustic seaside camp connected to a rural high school owned by the order. Along the length of the washroom wher~ I was brushing my teeth, there was a ventilation space just under the eaves, open to the cloister walk outside. Out on the cloister walk I recognized, among a group of visiting major superiors, the voice of the nun who had been principal of my school when Anna and I were students together. Another superior who did not know me mentioned my name. My old principal, who had not spoken to me in three years, remarked, "Oh, yes, that one is full of the Old Nick." My eyes filled with angry tears. I felt it was unfair to judge me at age eigh-teen by my behavior three years before. At that point in my current-day reflections, I realized that each of us is in a process of becoming. Those who have remem- ~06 Rwbiew for Religious bered us only by some static moment and then have passed out of our lives do seem to have an ethical obligation to keep their own counsel. After all, persons being impugned via the narration of memory may, in effect, no longer exist; they may be thoroughly different from the persons called to mind by the reminiscence. In any case, they deserve the benefit of the doubt. Participants in therapies which focus upon memories of years ago need to keep this in mind. So do ordinary folk, particularly as they age and their store of memories becomes larger and larger. Easter Lily Your bell is poised for announcement, green-white at first, the color of music not yet tongued. We have come to expect drama: spring's green entrance, the dandelion invasion, snow in the orchard, and those housewrens concealing their nest in the ivy-veiled oak. This morning you trumpeted six gold notes from your ivory cave, a fanfare for the resurrection from the dead. Avis Kunca Kubick March-dt~H11994 207 \~ILLIAM MOCKUS A Discipline of Self-Respect Forthose seeking direction in their spiritual journeys and for .1_ .those who journey with people seeking God's direction, how we use the word discipline needs to be given attention. Our assumptions about discipline significantly affect our spiritual exer-cises and practices. A few years ago a cartoon depicted one man saying to another, "Yes, I'd like to reach spiritual perfection as soon as possible; then move on to bigger and better things." Obviously, this perception of "spiritual perfection" relates more to ego achievement than to true spiritual growth. But, like most humor, what makes it funny is its nearness to truth. We desire to grow spiritually, but we are not sure of how or when the goal is reached. When asked what they desire at the beginning of a retreat or a spiritual-direction relationship, many people say a closer or more intimate relationship with God, a more faithful practice of prayer, or a sense of security around what they are already doing in prayer even though it may "feel dead" to them. Often, from what we have been taught and have come to believe about spiritual perfection, we assume that greater disci-pline, meaning greater self-control, will produce the desired spir-itual fruit. To pray well, we believe we must control our wandering imagination, our body, even our breath. We believe that, if we fdil ai' our discipline ot[ self-control, then we or someone else may judge our spiritual life, if not our entire self, to be a failure. William Mockus, a diocesan priest from Paterson, New Jersey, currently serves on the. retreat team at Bon Secours Spiritual Center. His address is Bon Secours Spiritual C.enter; 1525 Marriottsville Road; Marriottsville, Maryland 21104. 208 Review for Religious We have long recognized that, in developing most worth-while skills, some type of discipline is required. We assume, then, that living Christian lives "skillfully" must involve the "discipline" of putting the Jesus story into our everyday activity. But our image of God should not ignore Jesus' own activity at work within our lives as they are. Having such an image involves a different sort of discipline. Rather than straining to achieve a degree of spiritual perfection that will allow us to feel secure by sheer force of will, we need to seek a "disciplined faithfulness to our own advancing StOry." In the spiritual life the essential ingredient is relationship-- our individual relationship with God and our communal rela-tionship with one another in God. It is for the sake of these relationships that discipline is important, but only secondarily. In our growing-up years, it is important to learn some discipline, some self-control. Without "boundaries of behavior" for impulses and emotions, we would do much harm to ourselves and others. Good boundaries are important for developing ego identity and strength. For adults, however, it is a mistake to confine one's thinking about discipline to self-control. For people beyond young adulthood, viewing one's need for spiritual discipline as a function of self-respect can be more help-ful than striving after an unrealizable degree of self-control. In fact, spiritual (and emotional) growth may be more hindered than helped by too much of it. Mature Christians realize this. Increased self-respect comes from patient growth in God, not from aggres-sively building oneself up to self-perfection. Discipline for the journey is more a matter of trusting in the Spirit's movement than of standing tall or standing one's ground. We do not arrive at "spiritual perfection" as much as journey toward it in hope and faith. Here a healthy discipline of self-respect can prevent us from abandoning the quest for spiritual perfection in frustration because we lack enough self-control to arrive at some idealized point of our own choosing. This adjustment in our understanding of spiritual discipline can help us move from a success/failure model of spiritual life to one of ongoing progress. It is a call for respect of one's "true self" rather than control over one's imperfect self. The practice of self-respect, like most spiritual tasks, requires a real commitment to discipline. But it is a discipline that has patience for the grow-ing self's time of maturation and integration. March-April 1994 209 Mockus * A Discipline of Self-Respect People often perceive their lives as somehow overshadowed by what they have come to understand as their vocation or calling: the idealized notion of being a Christian, to be perfect as their "heavenly Father is perfect." Traditionally we have been taught to strive toward spiritual perfection in prayer and spiritual practices. Unfortunately, for us limited human beings, the reality of our many imperfections is often contrasted too harshly with the ideal. No matter how we struggle we always fall short of our desired perfection, and the ideal always eludes us. If self-perfection is the goal, the flawed reality of our lives usually confronts rather than comforts us in our spiritual quest. In terms of God's perfection, and our own expectations, we always fail. Nevertheless, thanks to the desire that God places at the core of our being, we keep. striving in one way or another to deepen the relationship with the One who is the source of all our desire. Yet, when we do not respect our own truth and wisdom, we too fre-quently seek some magical prayer discipline or some miracle that will deliver us from our failure-ridden struggle. If God wants us to be perfect, then more fervent prayer, or Jesus, or some spiri-tual director will help us finally achieve it--right? For those who seek "spiritual perfection," reaching the goal is constantly frustrated by human limitations. One's prayer disci-pline or acts of charity, one's responsibility to family or commu-nity, fulfillment of one's commitments or vows can never be as they should be because perfection moves as soon as it appears within reach. Considering what might be years of frustration in attempting to reach an idealized image of oneself, it is easy to understand some people's difficulty in determining how to improve their spir-itual practice or in ever finding the "comfort zone" of a commit-ted daily prayer practice. The built-in danger of a self-perception based on an ideal is that the reality of our limitations causes us to judge our efforts harshly, no matter how hard we try--unless in frustration we give up the quest. A typical response to what often feels like constant failure is grief or, worse, despair. In Vital Spiritualities Jerry Broccalo explains the distinction between a spirituality of the real and a spirituality of the ideal while recognizing the value of each. As with the rest of life, when it comes to our spirituality there is a radical difference between the ideal and the real. We too often confuse the difference. Despite the God-life within us, we are not God; weare not 210 Review for Religious perfect and cannot control everything in our life, especially its limits. A discipline of self-respect allows us to see the truth of our humanness more clearly. It requires that we discard the belief that our perfection is within our power. God is God; we are not. Our spiritual growth does not depend on our ability to control reality, but rather on our ability to surrender con-trol. ~ This surrender depends on our recovering what may be termed our "firsts." Making the shift from a discipline of self-control to one of self-respect is a matter of taking the right steps in sequence. One cannot skip the first step in the" process. We need to recover our appreciation of the first commandment, the first beatitude, and the first three steps of any twelve-step program thfit deals with addictions. Each of these firsts points to several parallel truths. We are not in charge, we need God, and we cannot control everything about our lives. The truth behind all of these firsts is that we are mor-tal and limited, as well as graced and saved. We cannot assume the power to judge or condemn ourselves for failures or wrong choices. Although we may judge an action or the lack of action as evil or sinful, it is God's domain to judge the person: Poverty of spirit, the first beatitude, requires that we real-ize exactly who is and who is not God in the human/divine rela-tionship. Because I know that prayer, exercise, and setting boundaries around my appetites are all essential for my well-being, for my "true self" to grow strong, I know that I need discipline, but not the discipline of self-control based on an ideal image of myself. Perhaps the most common temptation to idolatry is the ongoing desire to see myself only through others' .eyes. Butmy holiness depends on being my true self and worshiping the God in whose image I was made rather than a god made in my image. The discipline of self-respect compels me to do these things because .of what Christ has taught me about the reign of God within me. When I do not practice the discipline involved in liv-ing the Good News, I am being respectful of neither nay true self nor the gospel. If I do not pray or care for my body with proper diet and exercise, I need to look again at my spiritual discipline. But even then I have no right to condemn and crucify myself. A discipline of self-respect allows us to see the truth of our humanness more clearly. March-April 1994 211 Mockus ¯ A Discipline of Self-Respect Instead, in honest humility I can admit nay lack of self-respect and recommit myself once more to following the Lord rather than pursuing my idealized self. A discipline of self-respect calls me to constant conversion and does not allow me to assume divine authority over my own, or someone else's, failures. This discipline is one of true humility, and holds that human beings may not usurp God's authority. Maybe this is why the first commandment is the first, and the first beatitude is first, and why the same three steps are put at the beginning of every twelve-step recovery program. The first step is the need to recognize our dependence on God. The first steps in recovery, like the first beatitude and the first commandment, contradict the common belief that, if only we exercised enough self-control, we would pray better and live better and thus become more holy--and, pre-sumably, this level of spiritual perfection would make us more loved by God. This may be more a form of spiritual consumerism than a spiritually mature relationship with God in Christ Jesus. One may object that this type of spiritual discipline sounds too much like those theories which so casually justify the selfishness and self-centeredness of contemporary culture. From teachings learned in our growing-up years, it is easy to believe that all talk of self-respect promotes attitudes that are too self-centered. Admittedly, the danger of self-righteousness always remains with us, but it may be worth the risk to use the spiritual discipline I propose in the hope of gaining a more God-centered rather than self-center.ed view of what discipline is meant to be. The phrase "discipline of self-respect" may suggest imma-ture self-centeredness. People often assume that, if a spiritual dis-cipline does not involve self-denial, then it must be some form of narcissism. But such an ego-driven and immature sense of self is not what we are speaking about. We are advocating respect f0r one's "true self," as Thomas Merton uses the term, where the egoless self encounters the reign of God within one's life. In a conversation several years ago with Dr. Frederick Franck, I inquired about the Buddhist notion of decreasing one's ego desires and the Christian notion of dying to oneself. Dr. Franck responded that "first one had to have an ego." Before one dies to oneself, one must be a self or have what may be termed a' healthy ego, a sense of one's own true self. For the believer, Christ' is not only the image of the invisible God; he is also the image of our true self encountered within the reality of our lives, not in 212 Revie~v for Religious some unrealizable ideal. A discipline of self-respect is not self-ishness. It is a way to understand spiritual discipline as a call to die to one's false self-centeredness in order that one's true Christ-centeredness may be more fully realized in our lives. It is God's reign rather than our own that this discipline seeks. This call to be our "true selves" is always new and meaning-ful, no matter what age we are or in what stage of life we find ourselves. Whether we are young and need to control our impulses and urges, or mature and need to respect the truth of our real but limited lives, our spiritual discipline must reflect our experience of life and God. What is required in the spiritual jour-ney, if it is to be more God-centered than ego-centered, is a healthy and humble discipline towards one's true self. This disci-pline involves an ongoing quest for self-knowledge and self-respect and an openness to God's constant and loving call for conversion. If one's discipline of prayer or exercise or eating or working is to be tru!y healthy and whole, it must be balanced and con-gruent with one's true identity. It cannot be mere conformity to the images and masks we have held before us, whether these are images of perfect beauty or perfect sanctity. One's spiritual per-fection, then, is not a goal to be chalked up on a self-actualiza-tion chart. It is not a matter of self-mastery, but of self-surrender. The discipline of self-respect is a matter of surrendering to one's true self, encountered at the point of contemplative union with the God who made us just the way we are. Correction Do you know what the word KUMASI becomes when the spellcheck of a computer program encounters it? It becomes CHUMPS. Our apologies to the KUMASI diocese of Ghana mentioned in Susan Rakoczy's article "Charismatic Renewal and Consecrated Life" in our November- December 1993 issue, page 913. March-April 1994 213 ANNETE ADAMS A Transformational Journey May living room can be a cozy place in the winter. Making fire in the fireplace, watching the flames, listening to the crackle of wood, catching a glimpse of a spark breaking away, all move me into a very reflective mood. There is some-thing about a fire in a fireplace that captures my spirit and invites me to quiet. I began to think about images: fire, sun, wind, water, animals, insects. Since images have played an important part in my spiri-tual journey, I looked back to see what image has spoken most powerfully to me. That image is the butterfly. I began reflecting on the monarch butterfly about ten or eleven years ago. Did you know that in its caterpillar stage it can resist moving into the next stage? It can postpone moving into the chrysalis until the fol-lowing spring. This experience reminded me of a time I had been resisting a change in my own life and thinking of all the reasons why I was not the person for this new ministry. Why me? Why now? Why not someone else? I struggled for a long time and finally one day, too tired to fight anymore, I just sat and listened to some reflective music. As I listened, someone came into the room and told me of a wonderfulsight she had just seen. She had watched a beautiful monarch emerge from its chrysalis. She had never seen such a wondrous transformation. For me that was a very powerful moment, for it spoke to me of my own moment of surrender. It was not until I surrendered that I could begin to be free enough to say yes to what I was being Annete Adams SND has been a teacher and a formation director. Currently provincial secretary, she also gives retreats and does spiritual direction. Her address is Notre Dame Educational Center; 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. 214 Review for Religious invited to do. Was this the beginning of another time in my life that was beckoning me into my own chrysalis, to a state of fertile emptiness, to a time of waiting, inviting a transformation? That image .and that symbol are still with me on my journey. I sit here now, in the midst of another transition time in my life, knowing it is time to let go, to move on, uncertain about what is ahead, and yet excited about what might emerge and bring new life and energy. I remember being on a week-long retreat and feeling as though I were a chrysalis. There was not a thought, a prayer, a song, or a gesture that spoke to me. I took a walk that day through a very quiet neighborhood and got lost. A monarch butterfly on the ground caught my eye. I went to look at it. It was dead. I remember picking up this fragile bit of creation, too beautiful to leave there, and holding it in my hand as I walked on, seemingly forever. I came to a park and sat on the grass, opened my journal, and drew what I saw; somehow it became a priceless gift for the day. At the end of the time I took it to a "safe place" where it would not be trampled on and then began my journey back. I remember sharing the incidents of the day with my director. I told her I could not even imagine why I was carrying, so care-fully, a dead butterfly. Her question to me was simple and yet profound: "Did you ever think that the dead butterfly was you-- the part of you that died, that is no longer--and that is why you carried it with you until you could let it go? I knew at once that the suggestion in her words and eyes was true. I had been look-ing outside myself for the answer when in fact it was within. As I reflected on this image later, I noticed near the fireplace a small sand castle. It had been given to me as a gift because of my great love for Teresa of Avila and her Interior Castle. I wondered if each dwelling place could be like another cocoon--a place of darkness, a place pregnant with all the possibilities of newness and a place of deep union between the lover and the Beloved--as it awaits its moment of transformation. Such a simple image and yet what profound insights! All this reflecting brought me to con-sider my own journey and' that of those on the road with me. I reflected on spiritual direction for this journey of ours. Have you ever watched the cycle of the monarch butterfly? To me it seems similar to what happens in spiritual direction. The journey is one of wonder and joy. The journey is one of searching, watching, waiting, mystery, and transformation. Marcb-.4pri11994 213 Adams ¯ A Transformational.yourney The egg of the monarch butterfly looks like a very, very tiny pearl. The Searching To get yourself a monarch-butterfly caterpillar, you would do well to look in a field, along the road, or in a garden for the milk-weed plant and then to examine its leaves and stalk carefully. The egg of the monarch butterfly looks like a very, very tiny pearl. You can take the leaf on which the egg rests and place it on a moist sponge; in time you will see a tiny caterpillar emerge to begin its new life. If you cannot find an egg, then you should look for an already hatched monarch caterpillar--with its eas-ily spotted black, white, and yellow circular bands--wherever it has left a trail of partly con-sumed milkweed leaves. Directees do their own kind of searching in spiritual direction. They search for a director who will help them unfold their real selves, one who will help them search out the truth, one who will love them for who they are and continually journey with them as they come to know a God who nourishes them on their journey. In spiritual direction directees search and find; they search and sometimes do not find; but they do not stop searching, no matter how painful it becomes. It is not the director's demand that makes this contihued search happen. It is their realization that God's search for them is much greater than their search for God because God's love for them is unconditional. The Watching If you really want to watch the monarch caterpillar in its var-ious stages, then you need to put the portion of the plant that the caterpillar is on into a large glass jar and cover it with some fine netting. The caterpillar moves all over the plant, continu-ally eating bits of leaqes, taking in all the nourishment it can for the journey. In very quiet moments, with your ear over the top of the jar, you can hear the sound of each bite. It is that kind of posture of attentive listening that is part of being a spiritual director. It takes many quiet moments to notice what is happening in a directee's journey. It takes the right setting, an atmosphere for growth, openness, and readiness for the jour-ney. The directees need to place themselves in a setting where spiritual direction can take place, to prepare themselves to be 216 Review for Religious receptive to however our God wishes to feed them with words, prayers, songs, or silence. The Waiting The caterpillar needs leaves from the milkweed plant every day. You can watch in silence each day for its constant growth-- watching it become larger and larger until one day it stops eating and begins searching for a place to attach itself so as to begin the mysterious and won-derful work of forming the chrysalis. I have watched for many hours in utter amazement at how care-fully the caterpillar walks around and around its container until it finds the place to fasten itself securely. Th

Issue 51.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1992. ; for religious Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 3 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis Universio,., by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. 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 V~;ashington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Senti address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, anti additional offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5.00 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for 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 David J. Hassel SJ Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY/JUNE 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 3 contents life choices 326 A Monastic Way in the World Theresa Mancuso tells of the monasticism she has found herself continuing to live now for ten years in New York City, ever since she left her monastery in upstate New York. 337 I Leap Back Over the Wall Corey S. Van Kuren OFMCap offers reflections on his experience of reentering a religious community. 341 Why We Stay Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ presents a personal witness to a lasting commitment to the religious vocation. 347 When a Sister or Brother Leaves Melannie Svoboda SND offers personal reflections on the departure from religious life of a lifelong friend. transitions 356 The Integral Sabbatical Brian B. McClorry SJ blends the traditional sabbatical elements of coursework and reading with time in a remote wilderness and discovers the riches of the ordinary. 373 Using Ignatian Discernment Philip L. Boroughs SJ applies the Ignatian principles for discernment to a person in a time of transition. scripture and spiritual life 388 A Woman's Compassionate and Discerning Heart Mary Lou Cranston CND examines the compassionate heart of the. woman in 1 Kings 3 as a model for understanding discernment and its relationship to religious obedience and governance. 397 Peter's Characterization in Luke-Acts Lola M. Wells proposes that a unified reading of Luke-Acts provides a valuable portrait of individual discipleship. 3 2 2 Review for Religious 403 Petitionary Prayer in a Biblical Perspective John H. Zupez SJ reflects on the constant value of petitionary prayer especially through a more mature way of entering into our Scriptures. 408 Hasidism, Creation, and the Psalms Joseph Fichtner OSC, guided by the Hasidic tradition, finds in the Psalms an awe-filled creation spirituality alert to the Creator's presence and power. devotional life 417 Marian Spirituality and Apparitions Walter T. Brennan OSM suggests that the proliferation of Marian apparitions leaves us living in a gray area of pastoral judgment and practice, but paradoxically gray is full of color. 424 The Mirror Image in Clare of Assisi Sister Karen Karper develops how Clare presents Christ as the mirror of one's own deepest identity and its apostolic implications. charism and mission 432 Reclaiming Competence Theresa M. Monroe RSCJ indicates that some careful limits and boundaries would protect the creativity our times demand of religious institutes. 453 Restructuring William F. Hogan CSC points out that restructuring in religious congregations must balance the twofold need to maintain institutional essentials and to adapt to the challenges of the mission. 458 reflection Why Claude la Colombi~re? John A. McGrail SJ uses the canonization of Claude la Colombi~re to consider the roots and contemporary value of devotion to the Sacred Heart. departments 324 Prisms 461 Canonical Counsel: Voluntary Exclaustration 469 Book Reviews May-j~une 1992 323 prisms Pope John Paul II seems to be setting a record in saint making. In his various missionary travels, he frequently celebrates the ritual of beatification or can-onization of a woman or man recognized for holiness by the local people. Some are critical of this making of saints. "Out of step with the times," they say. Others just wonder why. We human beings need our heroes and heroines. The stories of women and men who have captured our minds and hearts because of their bravery, their dedicated service, their contribution to a more humane world have been told in every culture and in every age. The names change, the circumstances differ, but the inspiration for human living remains the same. We all seem to be searching for a glimpse or two of heroism not too far from home. Yet some fear or some reluctance appears to stifle, early on, our own desire for the heroic. Various factors may contribute to this reluc-tance. Perhaps pop psychology, too readily imbibed as Gospel, has made us too content with being the ordinary persons we are, too willing to be coddled into a generic self-esteem. Or when heroes are proposed, a mean spirit in us and in our culture may drive us to search out ways to cut these people back down to ordinary size . . . or less. Maybe such behavior flows from a poorly idealized pro-letarian spirit which is a communist residue in us all. Often it seems that heroes or heroines are quickly raised up and 324 Review fbr Relig4ous just as quickly forgotten. Perhaps our enthusiasm for their exam-ple and their deeds lasts no longer than the music or video of the moment. Then, too, we probably fear the disappointment of the hero or heroine letting us down; we surely fear the cost of hero-ism for ourselves. Despite such stifling factors or because of them, our need for inspiring heroism to permeate our everyday world in the living example of contemporary women and men remains. The vari-ous spiritual traditions in the church have been first enfleshed in the lives of women and men before they came to be written down as programs for the following of Christ. Life and ministry shone out in persons with names and faces before any rule or constitu-tions were formulated. There comes a time in every spirituality when structures or formulas or written theological treatises are essential if it is to become a heritage or tradition within the church community. A common way that particular spiritualities have been institutionalized has been through the foundation of religious congregations. Religious life does not exist as a generic reality, but only in particular embodiments, each with its own approved rule of life, an organized spiritual tradition. A religious rule of life, then, not only provides for the identity of a particular reli-gious family as a legitimate form of following Christ, but also ¯ brings that family's prophetic voice to the harmonies and coun-terpoints of the church on earth. The danger of any heritage arises when it becomes a tomb or sculpted sarcophagus, beautiful in its form, but containing disconnected bones devoid of breath. Only heroes and heroines make spiritualities live. Can people live heroic lives in an unheroic age? The answer obviously lies with us. No matter what our spirituality or her-itage may be, the people who embody it for us retain an impor-tance beyond a brilliant theoretical study of a particular charism or some wonderfully fashioned new constitutions. Saints, both old and new, hold out to us the promise that this kind of a fol-lowing of Christ is humanly possible. Requiring a little heroism, perhaps, but humanly possible. Our church and our world need heroes and heroines. Anyone of us who is serious about the spiritual heritage we try to live rec-ognizes the call within it to be heroic. To paraphrase Chesterton, it is not so much that heroism has been tried in our day and found wanting; rather, today we try so little to be heroic. .David L. Fleming SJ May-3~une 1992 325 life choices THERESA MANCUSO A Monastic Way in the World Into the darkness of a cold winter's night, I peer quietly from my third-floor window, reflective after the day's work. Gathering up my briefcase and tightening my gray woolen scarf close about my face, I leave the office and head up Lafayette Street towards the "M" train. This is the evening part of my daily routine, the trip home from work. Upstate far away the semantron sounds over halcyon hills of white birch. Monks and nuns make ready to answer the call of the monastery bell which will soon follow the hol-low rhythm of the semantron. Donning black choir robes, they will take their places for Vespers. Ancient chants will blend harmoniously with the whistling mountain wind as it purrs along the windows of the monastery church. Still living my self-imposed exile of a decade, I walk through the darkening streets of lower Manhattan as falling snow shimmers softly about the dim street lights. I hear down-town church bells chiming six o'clock. The old nostalgia rises as I hustle down broken concrete steps into.the cold, damp tunnel, far from the candlelight kingdom of my monastery home. The "M" train screeches into the sta-tion, jamming to a stop along the drab platform. Doors fling open and I rush to board, jostled by the crowd, my fellow travelers, all scrambling for a seat. Everything monastic, everything I love, is far away and long removed, Theresa Mancuso has been a member of an active religious order and of.a monastic community. She has published on wide-ranging topics 'including religious education, elder abuse, and criminal probation. She lives at 448 Seventh Avenue; Brooklyn, New York 11215. 326 Review for Religious but I carry it still in my heart. Here in the streets of the city or deep beneath them hurling through subterranean corridors on hard cold rails of steel, I ponder the Desert Fathers and the vows I made years ago while walking in their pathways. Every day, five days out of seven, I begin and end my travels at Union Street station in the underside of Park Slope, Brooklyn. It is a poor neighborhood unreclaimed by urban renewal. Trash and waste clutter its curbs and sidewalks, a place where immigrants cling tena-ciously to the fringes of hope that carried them from their homes in Ecuador, Nicaragua, Puerto Rico, parts of Asia, Africa, and Eastern Europe. They work hard here and live hard, struggling to make it on Union Street. These are my neigh-bors and I am theirs. Amid the drama of daily life unfolding here with its stark reality calling me toward a new wisdom, I park my car and climb down the subway steps to board the train to and from Manhattan. Every morning and every evening my meditation begins and ends here, my earnest prayer rising from the cold and lonely street. The crowded train on weekday mornings teaches me much of patience and endurance. Pushing, shoving, sweating, shivering, they board, riders of this underground iron horse, travel-weary as they squeeze into place. Once settled, the subway people sink into watchful silence, hardly raising their eyes yet ever on guard. Destinies mingle here in this place where the sun does not shine and danger is always just a breath away. Muggings and murder are familiar specters in the New York City subway. The security of the monastery is a dream-like state, a fading unfamiliar mem-ory. There is no security here. Here one rides in the arms of Divine Providence, wrapped in total abandonment under the pro-tection of the Mother of God. There are no promises of personal safety in the darkness of this daily voyage underneath the city. I often look about and see prayer happening on the faces of many fellow travelers. Some'read Scripture, openly holding a small Bible on their laps; some say the rosary, while others sit straight with hands folded in the perfect posture of meditation. How true ring the words that rise in my heart as the train rushes forward, "Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us." I often look about and see prayer happening on the faces of many fellow travelers. May-.~une 1992 327 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic V~ay in the IVorld Dirt and discomfort surround me as I call upon the assistance of the Holy Spirit to quiet my soul and prepare my mind to reflect more deeply on that which alone is nec.es~ary. In this, the most unlikely of places, I have learned to make my daily prayer. Well I remember the daily formula used in my earliest experience of religious life, when the superior commenced the community's prayer time with the words: "Let us place ourselves in the pres-ence of God and ask the assistance of the H?ly Spirit to make our meditation well." These words speak themselves in my mind as the subway train runs along the track. The harsh screech of iron wheels blazing along the curved track under the East River assaults my ears as my mind focuses on interior prayer. My eyes meet a kaleidoscope of society, fellow travelers scurrying like ants on their way to anyplace but here. They are part of the collage of prayer that rises in my heart. Sometimes I wrestle with truths of the spiritual life learned in the safe, secure society of robed monks and nuns and I try to apply those truths to today's society, neither safe nor secure. What is monasticism if not the road to repentance? And what is this daily voyage in the belly of the earth if not a journey of repentance? I study my companions .along t_fie way, for they will often teach me without saying a word. Busines~ men and women dressed in smart somber suits, their briefcases clutched with pro-found importance--their presence awakens me to the cries of sec-ular society. I watch students and tourists with backpacks loaded on their shoulders, leftover hippies with long hair tied in greasy ponytails. I observe ill-clad .teenagers late for school or playing hookey, perhaps, instead. The sea of humanity that ebbs and flows around me leads me deeper into contemplation of the Creator who knows them all, each by name, who reads the secrets of their hearts and hears their every longing. My fellow riders are of every race, religion, color, size, and descriptign. Together we hurl through tl~is iron tube deep in the belly of darkness. The homeless are here, too, dreary and desolate, fighting a daily battle with hunger, told, and desperation. They live on the subway trains or ride them until they are evicted, for here at least there is some warmth and shelter from the outdoor elements. Coffee cups are freqtiently extended in their dirty hands under hungry, sad, defeated eyes. What can they not teach me of poverty and penance? Indeed, I am embarrassed at the luxuries I knew in the monastery while they, the poor and dispossessed, not 328 Review for Religiog~ by vow but by reality, have perhaps not for one instant in a life-time known real comfort, security, or personal safety. They force me to reexamine everything I once took for granted. I count their sufferings in vacant eyes and in the biting fatigue on faces worn and haggard. They call me to deeper repentance without saying a single word, me who have enjoyed so much of what they lack. Outside the protection and security of the religious life, outside the shelter of community, I have come to new terms with reality, to understand at last what it really means to have no one and nothing but God. Sometimes the subway poor wander through the train speak-ing loudly, interrupting our smug self-centered silence. We are reading, we are thinking, we are silent; they are begging. They ask for change or a dollar perhaps if they feel lucky. But straphanger charity is always unpredictable. Accursed with misfortune, they ride side by side with the powerful and privileged while I, look-ing from one to the other, remember that poverty has many faces. I see it there, poverty, even among the rich, poverty of spirit and of morals, poverty of faith, bankruptcy of the soul. My heart is forced to consider the meaning of poverty in vows I took so long ago and the poverty I practice today, for after all some kind of poverty is essential to the monastic life. But everything is differ-ent now; I understand for the first time in my life the struggle for survival others must face. When I offer one of them the small and meager gift of a dollar or a dime, I know that I am here not for the purpose of teaching them but in order that I may learn. So different from the monastery classroom, this too is an education of the heart. When I left the monastery ten years ago, I fully expected to abandon forever the life I had known, for twenty-five years, the religious life. I thought I was headed for secular society, for free-dom and promise in a world without restrictions and restraints, away from the rigors of community life with all its pain and heartache. I came to New York City at the recommendation of the metropolitan. But, once here, I soon realized that I had only taken the nun out of the monastery, not out of me. All my experiments with other lifestyles served to teach me that monastic life was rooted far deeper and more intensely in my heart than I had ever dreamed. My spiritual journey continued 'far from the support of monastery routine, far from the view of the monastery community. May-.~une 1992 329 Mancuso ¯ ~1 Monastic Way in the World Indeed I found myself living alone the same monastic life I lived in the community. All I had read in years gone by concerning the Camaldolese in the West and ideorhythmic monks in the East began to make great sense to me. Could I survive spiritually as a monastic living in the world? I sought a spiritual teacher and could not find one. Then I found one, strange and unexpected, in New York City; not a per-son, but a phenomenon: this daily ride on hard cold rails of steel. The New York Subway System, harsher than the sternest spiritual father, pulled me from the gutter of despair in the dismal winter of 1981. It dragged me down the cold dark tunnel of despon-dency and forced me to choose between life and death. There I was forced to cling to God with all my might lest I fall from the subway platform by my own step and crash on the tracks below in the path of the roaring train. Ten years have healed that broken-ness. A new hunger awakened within me. A new spiritual jour-ney began as I recommited myself to the monastic way. My search for monasticism in the city led me to understand that what I needed was monasticism of the heart. I knew I could not go back before I grew up, and perhaps never. What I needed more than ever before in my life was an authentic spirituality, a genuine monasticism, for now I was a nun without a monastery, alone in a world I did not know or understand. My new cloister was the streets of the city; my new obedience, an obedience to reality and the obligations of survival. The cold, hard teacher I had found was the subway itself---with no name, no face, and no heart and demanding of me complete abandonment and total surrender to God. It spoke to me as surely as any spiritual teacher I have ever known. It spoke because my whole being was listening. I was searching with all my heart. That is what great spiritual longing does; it opens every fiber .of one's being. Then one can truly hear. At last. One listens best when no more escapes are possible. Every day, morning and evening, I found myself grappling with the mysteries of faith and reality, struggling to discern the presence of God in the secular world. The milieu of faith I had known in religious life and took so much for granted was far behind me now. I had to create one in myself if I was to retain a spiritual focus in my life. In the personless hands of this tutelage, there was no protection, no one to turn to, no arms to hold me faint with fatigue. Fear loomed up over the darkness of my soul like fog on the docks of South Street Seaport. In the beginning I 330 Review far Religiaus was angry, depressed and bitter. Confusion reigned where once I thought I knew my purposes. Conflict raged. Gradually, from daily meditation and interior prayer deep in the darkness of the earth as I traveled the subway system, there came the dawn of a soft, strong light which began to illumine the darkness of my spirit. I remembered words spo-ken to me long ago by my father when I was just a little girl: "There is no night so dark that you cannot reach out and take the hand of God." Slowly I regained perspective on the original purpose of my life, my spiritual journey. Is there, I wondered, searching my heart, the possibility of being an authentic monastic living in the world? And if there is, what shall it ask of me and how shall I answer? When the doors we have passed through are closed and locked behind us and those we have loved no longer speak our name, then indeed we must come to the truth or we shall surely perish. And if the truth should call us on alone, girded only with the armor of faith, with no assurances and no compan-ions to stave off the terror of the night, when there is no road back, we must carve our own road forward. When that which we have loved the most is forever lost to us, we must build a new tabernacle in the desert of the heart. This is the vocation of the monk or nun in the world. To bring to birth in the solitude of society an authentic monasticism of the heart, alone except for God and whatever he provides. Every morning I exit the train at Chambers Street and make my way up the subway steps. The stench of urine greets me, the first smell I perceive each day in downtown New York. I who love the warm richness of burning incense and the leaping flame of candlelight, I am thrust into this daily reminder of what is behind and what lies before me: the smell of the street and its treachery, the darkness of places where candles never flicker. I am Moses in the desert, forty years of wandering across the wasteland of Manhattan. Today I pass two Hasidim studying a subway map just outside the entrance of the train. One is bent with age, his white beard flowing over the collar of a shiny black coat. The other is young, unmarried, tall and blond with side curls fluffing out from under his black yarmulka and felt hat. They do not acknowledge me, a goy, though I pass within inches of their out- 'There is no night so dark that you cannot reach out and take the hand of God." May-~t~une 1992 331 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic Way in the World spread map. On Centre Street a Chinese peddler opens a stall, displaying his wares on two small sidewalk tables set by the curb. He and his wife sell woolen caps, scarves, sweatshirts, and pants. Their breaths steam like smoke in the windy street. Here on the next corner the Italian sausage man has been standing for several hours beside his concession wagon. Smells of sausage and sauerkraut overwhelm me as I pass, for the day is very young. I walk behind two black lawyers dressed in gray three-piece suits. They are deeply engaged in conversation with a white woman, also an attorney. She wears herself proud, this articulate lady; achievement and prominence like her gold earrings proclaim her success in a man's world. They head toward the courthouse on Centre Street carrying their serious leather briefcases with an air of profound importance. I think about pride and power and humil-ity and powerlessness. I think about the righteousness of law. A thin young man, alone and smiling, dressed in woman's clothing, sits on the bench at Thomas Paine Park, quietly hum-ming to himself. He is there every day, all day. Across the street a tall Hispanic man, handsome in his faded blue jeans and tan hooded sweatshirt, keeps his post with hand outstretched. He entertains passersby, juggling several coffee cups and telling humorous stories. Is he a fool for Christ's sake, or has he only learned to play the fool in hope of an extra quarter in his cup? When the morning crowd has passed and rush hour is over, he slumps onto a park bench and does crossword puzzles until later in the day when he will resume his trade, the daily round of beg-ging. I walk on toward Lafayette and Leonard Street. A homeless woman pushes a grocery-store cart which contains all her earthly possessions. She is wrapped in layers of rags. Near the corner of Worth Street, I notice the old cab driver, an Irishman with shin-ing blue eyes and stubbly beard. He is retired now to a life of penury, another beggar on the streets of the city. He sits on the park bench combing white disheveled hair just as he did yester-day, just as he will do tomorrow. What monk weaving baskets in the desert or writing music in a modern monastery knows greater mortification or penance than he? Soon he will change his wet socks no matter how cold it is. In the rain, in the sleet, in the snow, or in the sun I see him every day, his stack of reclaimed newspapers beside him. I wonder if he ever thinks of God, or must he always worry about his daily bread? I continue down Centre Street and lift my eyes to read words 332 Review for Religious inscribed high on the courthouse faCade: "The true administration of justice is the firmest pillar of good government." I think a lot about justice. Justice, mercy, and charity. Righteousness and law. I think about the government of our country, the government of the church and that of monastic life. I wonder about politics in places where politics should have no place, the house of God. I wonder if the hand of justice can ever reach beyond the bound-aries of political alliances, those in the world and those in the church. Does the true administration of justice happen anywhere, I wonder, and if so, when and where? Who renders justice in real-ity? Is the government of the church and that of monasteries in particular built on true justice and charity, or is it linked to the power of a few who have pleased their superiors and risen to high places? Who are the recipients of justice? And I, when shall I learn to be just? When shall I have the courage for justice and charity? Crossing the street before the light changes, I ponder the plight of those for whom justice never happens and charity is but a word, those in the world and those in the church. Now I head toward the large marble building at the corner of Lafayette and Leonard Street. Its dark charcoal .walls shine in the morning sun. It is here on the third floor that I work in the New York City Department of Probation housed in the Family Court Building. It is time now to concern myself with matters of crim-inal justice: domestic violence, restitution, probationer miscon-duct, probationer drug tests. My tasks are writing and analysis. I lay aside my morning reflections and commit myself to the day's work. It, too, has something to teach me. In the monastery I baked cheesecakes and bread, I built cabinets and furniture, grew vegetables and cooked for the community. I tended guests and prepared the hospitality we offered to strangers. Did that work dif-fer so much from the work I do today? Was it more purifying to my soul or more pleasing to God than these hours before the computer researching and writing about criminal justice? Who can say that one is somehow more pleasing to God than another? Is it not the heart that makes the difference?. Everywhere there is something to learn. Often have I looked into the eyes of a pro-bationer, understanding that we are all on probation in this world, all of us facing the opportunity to change our lives or not, and the consequences thereof. Nothing, it seems, is incapable of teaching us if we pay attention with our hearts. This is the way it is, five days a week, every week of the year. May-.~une 1992 333 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic Vday in the IVorM All about me are the signs God places in my path calling me back to himself over and over again. I gather up the fragments of the day, bits and pieces of reality, signposts and fellow travelers I have met along my way. I take them to my heart, where like candles they illumine the darkness of my soul. I pray for them as I pon-der what they have told me without speaking. I am jostled into awareness by the touch of their reality on my own. In seventeenth-century France a man named Vincent, now called St. Vincent de Paul in the Roman Catholic Church and considered by Western Christianity to be the universal father of charity, said to his first sisters--those early pioneer sisters in social service, for nuns until that time were always cloistered in monas-teries--" Your cloister will be the streets of the city and your chapel the parish church." On the streets of New York and beneath them, I have entered a new and different cloister, a spiritual one. It is not an enclo-sure; indeed, it is very open. Open to reality. Open to grace. The parish church is indeed my chapel. There in the sacred hours of Vespers and Divine Liturgy I come to understand what Vincent de Paul was talking about. It is a phenomenon of the last decades that numerous sisters, brothers, monks, nuns, and priests have left the enclosure of con-vents and monasteries and ventured forth into the world. For sure, many of them have completely turned to new lifestyles, abandoning the old. Some have married, others have entered paths altogether removed from that on which they first set their course. I am among another group, that of monks and nuns liv-ing alone in the world and striving to continue the monastic jour-ney started in community. Some may say that monks and nuns in the world cannot be monks or nuns at all. Perhaps so. Perhaps not. If monasticism is repentance and conversion of heart, surely anyone with goodwill who sets out on the path of repentance and conversion of heart is truly a monk, truly a nun. If monasticism is the search for truth and harmony in the universe, a search for God hidden beneath all the layers of reality that cover everything and everybody, then those who search are truly monks and truly nuns. If the habit does not make the monk and the essence of monasticism is seeking God above all things and striving to live the spiritual life with all one's being, then those who commit to this sacred journey--whether alone or in community, dressed in 334 Review for Religious religious attire or secular garb, recognized or not recognized by official ecclesiastical structures--are truly authentic monks and nuns. The riason of the choir is not suitable for the street, but the true choir robe of the heart is purity of intention, single-mindedness in faith, humility before God, ation. One need not live in a monastery to wear this authentic spiritual robe, and thus clothed on the inside of one's being, one is truly a monk, truly a nun. Yes, it is frightening to ~tand on the edge of the desert and know that absolutely there is no other way to pass. It is hard to go naked into the nigh.t of the spirit with no comforts, no road maps, no spiritual father or mother, no companions for sup-port or sustenance. Alone. This stripping, however, of everything we mistake for safety and security is the reality that makes us true monks and true nuns in company with those who have gone before us, the Desert Fathers of antiquity. I do not wish to compare one form of monastic life with and love for his cre- The true choir robe of the heart is purity of intention, single-mindedness in faith, humility before God, and love for his creation. another. I do not wish to contrast the merits of living in com-munity and living in the world. Rather, what I wish to ponder is the fact of the spiritual journey, the reality of the spiritual searcher whereve~ he or she may be. This inner journey never ends though everything may change. If we know that, whatever may have gone before us and whatever yet may come, there is no path for us but through the desert, no cloak for us but the mercy of God, no pos-ture but humility and repentance before his face, then we have sufficient knowledge to continue on the path. He will provide all that is needed. If we find ourselves aware that we have no road map, no comfort station, no companion to lighten our burden and cheer us along, how shall we find our way? Will fear and loneliness defeat us? Having lost or abandoned everything, the soul stands naked and empty in the face of its Creator. This is the moment of truth. Accepting our essential nakedness and littleness, we take our emptiness back to God. Kenosis. The outpouring, the emptying of our hearts. Everything we have done and have failed to do. We gather up the fragments of our lives and return them to the Lord. May-.l~une 1992 335 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic Way in the World Holy wisdom teaches us that everything lost in time will be recov-ered in eternity. Our task is but to seek the Master who calls us to the feast. Contemplating the mercy and terrible judgment of God, how shall we stand? Only in abandonment and complete surren-der, with no excuses and no demands except to pray: "Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we for-give those who trespass against us." When all the rest is taken from us or when we, like foolish children, have ourselves run from our Father's house, have nothing, we may yet have every-thing, for only faith, hope, and love remain, "and the greatest of these is love." I wonder as I wander the streets and subways of New York if the monastery is not really everywhere and monasticism everyone's journey. Over a Garden-Wall at Bambous Mission Ile Maurice Can He be jealous that I hear the music of men's loves swirling whirling over garden-walls dancing through the moonlit trees around, swirling whirling once again and around and out, now carried on the evening breeze mingling with the rustling grass and palms and shyly whispering leaves, now ebbing flowing on the turning tide of salty scented ocean air? Can He be jealous? of me? of them ? Or does He too plainly see and hear the kernel of man's pain and loss and disillusionment they waltz about? And yet He holds me tighter. Cothrai Gogan CSSp 336 Review for Religious COREY S. VAN KUREN I Leap Back Over the Wall tth le 9c5o0n ~Me n° ~ iacf~ d aid ~ni ~y _Cehi rgOh~i~ leeadr s.h ~nr r!eLfl ;c~ o0~ eOr ~eeaV idff' she recounts in classic style what occurred and what she felt as she reentered a world she did not know because of her "hiddenness" in religious life. In the past twenty-five years, many religious have left reli-gious life, and most others have experienced enormous changes in it. Many books and articles have been written about the emo-tional, psychological, and anthropological realities involved in such changes. These writings run the gamut from leaving reli-gious life altogether to changing one's status in a particular com-munity tokeeping the same status in another community with a different history, ministry, charism, or geographic center. Lawrence Rywalt CP, in the September/October 1991 issue of Review for Religious, lays out in fine fashion the realities of what goes on with those who are changing their religious life by pass-ing from a "community of origin" to a "receiving community." Throughout his article he uses terms like "a time of adolescence" to describe the mixed emotions one experiences upon entering the unknown. It is somewhat understandable to this reader, as one who is presently going through this process, that these terms are more than somewhat awkward; they may be harmful if per-ceived to be negative. Not only is there a lack of a "clear" canonical process for Corey S. Van Kuren OFMCap is currently in the reentry program of the Capuchin-Franciscan province of St. Mary (New York-New England). His address is St. Michael's Friary; 225 Jerome Street; Brooklyn, New' York 11207. May-~une 1992 337 Van Kuren ¯ I Leap Back Over the Wall The cycle of leaving/reentry can and perhaps should be perceived as a healthy pattern of living. defining this reality of "reentry," but the rarity with which it is perceived and coped with, let alone talked about, makes the use of analogy the only way to discuss it. There are no terms proper to this process, so we who exp.erience it and those who must deal with us are forced to speak in analogy or struggle to invent new ways of speaking about who and what we are. (This is as frightening as was the experience of Monica Baldwin in 1950.) In my own case, the entry/reentry process has happened a couple of times. I first entered the Capuchin Order in 1973 and left in 1981 before ordina-tion. I returned for a short stint and left again. In 1986 I was ordained a diocesan priest and now am in a reen-try program with the same province of Capuchins. I firmly believe that the cycle of leaving/reentry can and per-haps should be perceived as a healthy pattern of living. It is only through the ongoing struggle to find God's will that anyone of us is going to reach sanctity, the goal of any vocation, religious, mar-ried, or single. We need to call the emotions and behaviors they involve by their real names, instead of trying to liken them to any other experience of change. Leaving religious life is no't like divorce, an analogy often heard. Divorce usually happens after prolonged experience of anger, hurt, or at least a clear realization of irrec-or; cilable differences. My own exp~rienc~ and that of others who have talked with me is that we felt, or discerned, that the life we were leading was not what we were then called to, if indeed we ever were called to it. This is not to say that the feelings of loss were not real for us or that we did not miss the people or perhaps even the structures that w~ left behind, but the negativity of such feelings that divorce usually implies was absent. Likewise, to term the process of reentry a time of "adoles-cence" because it might conjure up feelings 6f "anger, despair, fear, chaos, denial, bewilderment, and malaise," as Rywalt sug-gests in his third stage, casts a shadow on the reality of these feel-ings as healthy or as progress or as worthy of an adult. In any event, the expectation of finding such negative feelings is pro- 338 Review for Reli~ous claimed more strongly than any thought of the possibility of feel-ing joy, peace, and a sense of "coming home"--which seems, at least to me, highly possible for those in the reentry process. Just prior to my ordination as a diocesan priest, at a meeting with Bishop Frank Harrison of Syracuse, I revealed to him one fear I had, that I was not sure that I was not called to religious life as I had previously believed and that I might feel compelled to try to reenter religious life in the future. I felt it necessary to speak to him of this feeling before ordination, and must admit that I feared his response might be that I should postpone my ordination until I was sure. Not surprisingly (in looking back and having come to know Bishop Harrison better), his response to me was wise, fatherly, and helpful. In essence, he assured me that this feeling was no reason not to go forward with ordination, pro-vided I was sure that even as a religious my call would include ordained ministry. In addition he laid no claim to knowing what God had in store for him in the future, let alone what the same God had in store for me. The question remains for me: Should it not be possible to change, to move in and through the structures of ministry as we seek God's will, without enduring the analysis of our psycholog-ical motivation, having our behaviors monitored or judgments made about the health or sickness of our actions? It seems to me that as Gospel people we would at least admit to the possibility of a religious motive, the reality of the call. We are too quick to give over to the sciences that which is spiritual, God centered, and not bound by the analysis of science. Is it a bad thing for men and women to constantly try to dis-cern God's will for them? If occasionally this discernment calls for change in structure or movement in or out of structures, need these people be subjected to an analysis of their health, a ques-tioning of their motivations, or must they live with the stigma of being unable to commit? I cannot predict whether my reentry experiment will be sue-cessful in moving me to "profess" again within the Capuchin com-munity. It is my deep hope and desire that it will. However it happens, though, I will neither judge the community nor myself at fault. Nor will I subject myself to questions whether I am mov-ing or not moving through "healthful" stages of development in the process. Prayer, the grace of God through living the Gospel counsels in common, sacramental grace, and meaningful ministry May-June 1992 339 Van Kuren ¯ I Leap Back Over the Wall will be the reality that decides for me and the community if this reentry is God's will. I find that reality comforting and assuring. I do not want to degrade the proper role of the sciences in defining the realities of our life. But as Christians, as ministers, as religious, we cannot give them positions they do not deserve. They must be seen in the proper perspective, and that means integrated with religious, spiritual realities--not taking their place. The leap back over the wall takes as much grace and courage as does the original leap over the wall. That grace and courage comes from relationship with a loving and forgiving God. Religious find this in the lives and faces of brothers and sisters more than in the psychological and scientific analysis of what is healthy or in other comparisons. A leap over the wall--a leap back over the wall--is always a leap of faith. Antiphonal With joy and gladness we cry out to you, Lord: with love and laughter make our hearts sing today from sunrise to sunset. Wisdom of God, be with us, ever at work in us: guiding our hearts and hands; our thoughts, our words, our works. How happy are we who dwell in your house, 0 Lord, forever praising you. Maryanna Childs OP 340 Review for Religious EILEEN P. O'HEA Why We Stay Aging, inadequate retirement funds, as well as the high cost of health care that paralleled and intensified these issues, were crises in religious life that Archbishop Rembert Weak]and of Milwaukee and the campaign inaugurated by the American bishops made public. This campaign aimed at bring-ing attention and monies to the plight of religious communities in America. It brought public attention to something else as well. Along with the assessments religious communities were making about themselves and the data provided by professional research organizations, it made plain that religious communities, with their median age then at 62 and rising, could be vanishing from the American culture. What to do? Get more candidates! Vocation ministry then became a recognized need in religious communities. These min-isters were given offices, cars, and money to explore solutions to this problem. What was once left to chance meetings of persons attracted to religious life now became a full-time occupation. When the problem did not get resolved with an influx of members, these vocation ministers started confronting both com-munity leaders and community members about their nonin-volvement in the process of attracting candidates. Religious communities then began to examine their collective consciences. Why are people not attracted to us anymore? Are we doing some-thing wrong? Are we no longer reflecting those religious values Eileen P. O'Hea is a Sister of Saint Joseph of Brentwood, New York. Presently she is working as a therapist and a spiritual director at Stony Lake Office Park; 2459 15th Street N.W.; New Brighton, Minnesota 55112. May-June 1992 341 O'Hea ¯ Why l~Ve Stay that attract people to want to live out the gospel in a religious community? Or have we been so coopted by materialism and our own needs that people see us as just another lifestyle with little connection to the holy and the truly religious? Or perhaps we are just not presenting ourselves, not advertising ourselves enough, not effectively reaching the public's consciousness? Not doing enough or not being enough to attract members was taken seriously by religious communities. But numbers of candidates did not increase. What religious communities found was that there were people "out there" who wanted to join them in prayer and gospel response, but not full-time. This gave birth to associate membership. These associates reminded members of religious congregations of the value and importance of community. They recognized, perhaps intuitively, that the joining of persons in faith and love is essential to the experience of realized love. Religious communities opened their doors and their hearts and found that the relationship between them and their associate members was mutually beneficial. Leaders and members of reli-gious communities latched onto this relationship as the hope for the future of religious life. This new hope was translated into a familiar organizational plan: designate a community member as director of associate membership. Give the person a car, office, and money to explore this undertaking. The beginning of associate membership brought a sigh of relief to communities. Many communities began to see associate membership as the answer to extinction. But, shortly after its ini-tiation, problems began to arise about how much "say" associate members would have in setting the direction for religious com-munities and whether they could vote for members for leader-ship positions or become leaders themselves. How much "say" would associates have about monies spent, or how much access would they have to these monies in time of need? Moreover, actual associate membership, however popular and good, is not weighted in favor of youth and vitality. Some of the individuals attracted to this membership share the same median age as the community with which they associate. Some of a dif-ferent age group visit for a while and then move on or are taken up with other commitments. Some, of course, stay and radiate to the established community their vitality, gifts, and deep spirituality. What Archbishop Wealdand did through the campaign he inaugurated was make thoroughly public what had been only 342 Review for Religious known in the privacy of religious communities. What happens to individuals when they finally express some fear out loud to a friend or therapist happened to religious communities. They could no longer deny or conveniently repress the facts of aging and dimin-ishment. When the private fears of religious communities were brought into the public forum, they became more real, more potent. The problems of aging, not attracting permanent membership, inadequate health care are realities known to members who have chosen to stay in religious life. These problems are compounded especially for women religious as they sometimes experi-ence themselves systematically oppressed by the institutional church. Women have been deeply hurt. In this ecclesial relationship, as in other personal relationships, the hurt can come only if the investment is deep enough. And it is precisely because their love for the church is so deep that women, as well as men, have experienced hurt from some of the structures, operating principles, and mind-sets of the institutional church and its representatives. Some of us have chosen to stay in religious life fully con-scious of the crises and dilemmas presented. Others have left for personal reasons such as fear about the lack of security religious life represents. Still others wrestle with the option of leaving as they look at the statistical data, their experience of the institu-tional church, and the logic of the situation. Some of the reasons people stay are very personal, some are theological, and some are mystical. My reasons for staying incorporate all of these and, I believe, represent some of the convictions and intuitions held by many. One of the sweetest gifts of religious life I have experienced is the friendships I have had and the bonding I have experienced with a group of women who are part of my community. Though I do not stay in religious life because of them, their presence is very important. If you could imagine us all standing in a circle facing a luminous light, dancing our way to that light, it would image this reality somewhat. We weave in and out of each other's lives in this dance of life, knowing the reality of the center and at times being that center of light for each other. Though I do not stay in religious life because of my friends, their presence is very important. May-~Zune 1992 343 O'Hea ¯ Why We Stay The ones not in my immediate circle I know belong to another circle of their own intimate friends. We do not experience the light in each other yet. But our experience in community and our interdependence over the years have brought us from mutual rejection or intolerance to mutual appreciation of the differences between our personalities and mutual caring about each other. Someday, after my negative intellectual and emotional program-ming has been purified, I will know that they too are light. In the meantime I am surrounded by women who, at some level, value the search and desire to be one with God and struggle to live this out in their ministry and personal life. In the novitiate our novice director told us that we would be given a hundredfold return. I could not then imagin~ what that could mean, but reflection on the past years says that is so. Although my life has been difficult at points, especially through the sting of a celibate lifestyle, it has also been life-giving and full of wonderful people and experiences that belonging to a reli-gious community has either allowed or facilitated. And although I can point to oppression in the past (religious life, like marriage and other vocations, was evolving in its understanding of itself), today I experience inner freedom. In spite of, or because of, belonging to a religious community, I have come to some under-standing of myself. I have had the opportunity, through prayer and commitment to spiritual pursuits, to know myself as loved and to realize that my being and the Being of God are the same reality. Some days I am more conscious of this truth than others; some days my own egocentricity obscures it completely. My longing to be one with God drew me to religious life. Frequently I was disillusioned by members of my religious com-munity. Each hurt, each disillusionment, forced me to peel away another layer of a psyche torn between finding its happiness out-side itself in people and things or finding happiness inside itself. It was a bright moment, a moment of light, when a deeper self was realized, a self that found within her the longing of her heart and then began to make peace and love with the external world. That process continues. Religious life helps the process. The same wise woman of my novitiate also quoted the saying about putting one's hand to the plow and not turning back. It is another reason for staying in religious life. It is not a matter of logic or assessment of security needs. Staying in community is a stance of faith. In faith I believe that my original desire found 344 Review for Religious form through religious community. The form might change or dissolve or might mimic all living organisms and go through a disintegration period before being reintegrated in a new form. I wafit to be faithful to my original commitment, which is a com-mitment of right relationship with God, of knowing and discov-eri~ ng the essence of this relationship. The task of all forms, including that of religious life, is to give expression to a deeper reality. The reality of God is beyond form. The place of faith is standing with others, community members and friends, and fac-ing together the deeper reality and not being overwhelmed as the form does whatever it needs to do. To be companioned in faith and love at this level of reality is to mirror the light, life, and love of a God who is beyond form. When sisters and brothers stand together at this place of faith, we redirect the energies of the world from its obsession with form to the Reality toward which all form is supposed to point. The creative energy of God is what we see reflected in our material universe, but the ultimate call of all human beings is to go beyond ~he reflection to the source who is Life and Being. As groups of religious unite in faith, facing into and sharing in the c~nter who is Love, they acknowledge the interrelatedness of all p~rsons in a communion of being that is beyond form. Perhaps the apparent disintegration experienced by ?eligious com-munities is part of the nec~essary evolution all living organisms go through. Perhaps it is taking us to a deeper experience of real-ity- the Reality beyond form. We, in our age, have evolved to a point where we are con-scious of being conscious. We are teeter-tottering on the edge of a new shift in consciousness. Members of religious communities have made great efforts to join with one another and to remove the psychological and emotional blocks that cause us to see our-selves as separated from each other. We have made great efforts to know ourselves at our deepest level. As we discover this deep-est self, we begin to realize that God "is" the centered self--that we (God-I) ire one. The realization of this oneness is an experi-ence that cannot be contained. It cannot be restrained by the form that is our body or the form that is religious community. As we recognize our being "in" Love, we begin to experience oth-ers no longer as other, no longer as outside ourselves--or sepa-rated from us. This is the beginning of communion consciousness. It is a way of being with each other that is beyond form. May-June 1992 345 O'Hea ¯ Why We Stay Why do we stay in religious life? We stay because the form that is religious life is still pointing us to the Reality our hearts have longed to be one with. We stay because our companions have been faithful to us and we want to be faithful to them. We stay because the greatest adventure of all, the awakening of con-sciousness to Reality, is about to happen and religious community can facilitate that awakening. We stay because we recognize love here. We stay because we know God's faithful love and want to respond with love. We stay because the form provides, 'through the experience of community and ministry, relationships of mutual love and sharing. We stay because we refuse to be intimidated by fear and a lack of security. We stay because we have put our hand to the plow and want to fulfill our commitment. We stay because our lives and commitment are about faith. We stay because in community the experience of God as Trinity is being realized and manifested in relationships that are life-giving, loving, and mutual. We stay because our intuition tells us that the experience of com-munion consciousness is about the many discovering themselves as one. We believe that the evolution of religious life is moving us closer to this discovery. We stay because true identity is realized in the discovery of the mutual indwelling of our being in the being of God and others. We stay because we want to witness to the Reality beyond form. Silence I cannot say that I no longer sing for in my heart, the while my lips are dumb, my song I keep. I only know that words no longer come to break the silent singing of a thing that lies too deep. Florian Reichert SSJ 346 Review for Religious MELANNIE SVOBODA When a Sister or Brother Leaves All of us in religious life have seen some of our brothers and sisters leave our communities even after many years. The circumstances leading to such a decision are usually complex and unique to each individual. But one fact is simple and universal: a person's decision to leave religious life has an impact on those who "decide to stay." The stronger the ties that bind us together in a religious community, the greater the pain and con-fusion when such bonds are, for all practical purposes, severed. This article explores some of the pain and confusion sur-rounding one sister's leaving. "Sue" (as I call her) is not a "real" sister, nor are these direct quotes from my own "real" journal. Such a reflection would be too personal for me to publish at this time. It would also run the risk of violating the privacy of a par-ticular individual's decision to leave religious life. Sue is rather, a composite of a number of i'eal people who have left my commu-nity and other communities as well. And though this account is fiction in the technical sense, it is nonetheless, I trust,-very true. It is my ho~e that these reflections will resonate with the thoughts and feelings of o~hers who have experienced a friend's departure from religious life. She tells me, "I'm leaving." And she wants me to be one of the first to know, before "it's announced." I sit in silence and disbe- Melannie Svoboda SND, a regular contributor to Review for Religious, resides at Notre Dame Academy; Route One, Box 197; Middleburg, Virginia 22117. May-j~ne 1992 347 Svoboda ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves Something is terribly wrong. Like someone has died or something, only I cannot remember who. lief in the front seat of the car. For a few moments I can say and do nothing. I am not surprised. Not really. Hasn't she been sharing her struggles with me these past three years? Didn't I suspect even a year ago that her searching and questioning would eventually lead to this: the decision to go? No, I am not surprised. But I am numbed. At least momentarily. Finally I say, "Are you sure?" And in the dim light of the car I see her nod and pull out a tissue, and I know she is crying. I reach over to her-- awkwardly over the gear shift and try to comfort her. I say her name a few times, and then I start to cry, too. For several moments we sit like that--me with my arm around her shoulder. No words. Just the sound of our soft crying. After a few moments we both sit up straight and blow our noses. In unison. We laugh at that and the laughter frees us to talk. Unhaltingly, she tells me of her most recent talks with her spiritual director, of her meeting with our provincial, and of her plans to tell her fam-ily. Everything seems decided. Everything is in place. She will leave in two months--on July 1. One day short of the twenty-eighth anniversary of her entrance into religious life. Of our entrance. I try to listen to everything she is telling me, but my mind is still stuck back there on her first two words, "I'm leaving." At the end I cry some more. I feel her hand gently on my back. I say, "I'm sorry, Sue." She thinks I mean for my tears. But I don't. "It's okay, Melannie. It's okay." But I am thinking: It is not okay. Nothing is okay. And, I fear, nothing will ever be okay again. When I wake up in the morning, I sense: something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Like someone has died or something, only I can-not remember who. I turn on the light. My eyes wince from the assault of its brightness. As my head falls back onto the pillow, "it" hits me: of course, she is leaving. How could I forget? As I slowly crawl out of bed, I feel sick to my stomach. And I know it's 348 Review for Religious not something I ate, it's not the flu. It's the thought of her going away. Later this morning she calls to ask me how I am. She asking me! I say, "Okay. How about you?" And we talk a little more. But before she hangs up she says, "You know, you cried the most. Of everyone I have told so far, you cried the most." And then she adds, "Thanks." Thanks? For what? For loving you? I go to school and I am the cheerful, competent, organized teacher you read about in all the educational journals. But it is all a sham. Inside I am dying--only no one knows. Her leaving is an oppressive burden I bear alone--for now--in secret. But maybe that is good, I think. For as long as nobody else knows about it yet, her leaving has an aura of unreality about it--which eases the pain a little. For now. o~o o~o o~o o:o I have known her for over thirty years--since we were fresh-men in high school. We sat next to each other in homeroom that year, and I liked her from the very start. She was cute, funny, lively, and (above all) good. Although we were typical teenage girls back then, we were somehow comfortable with bringing God into our more serious conversations. We were both terribly idealistic back then. My idealism nour-ished hers and hers mine. Although we made the decision to enter religious life independently of each other, we obviously influ-enced each other greatly. One month after graduating from high school, at age eighteen, the two of us entered the novitiate of the Sisters of Notre Dame--together. I decide I am taking this whole thing too morosely. I tell myself: "So, what's the big deal, anyway? You are acting as if she has died or something. That's stupid! So, a friend decides to leave religious life. So what? People make big changes in their lives all the time. "So, she is leaving. Don't make it soUnd so awful. Gone are the years when we called such departures 'defections.' Do not try to figure out her decision. Do not try to understand it. Accept it. May-~une 1992 349 Svoboda ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves Accept her. Stop moping. She's leaving. But life will go on--for her, for you." And just when such logic makes such good sense to me and I resolve to accept her decision with greater equanimity, she calls me on the phone and, after talking to her for an hour and hang-ing up, I cry again. Through my outpouring of words, I am celebrating her and our friendship. I talk,to Bob about her. He listens with concern and com-passion- as usual. He asks me all kinds of questions--about her, about me, about our relationship. And it is as if a dam has been broken wide open, and my words come gushing out like water. And I talk and talk. And in the talking I suddenly real-ize: I am celebrating her. Through my outpouring of words, I am celebrating her and our friendship. And it feels good. Then I tell him of my concerns for her, my fears. He listens attentively, gen-tly prodding with a question every now and then. And I am grateful, so grateful for this man who can elicit such an out-pouring from me and who is so respectful of everything I tell him. Finally he says, "You love her very much." A simple statement of fact. And I nod and smile at its obvi-ousness, and then I cry a little more and laugh, too. And later he asks, "Have you taken all of this to the Lord, Melannie?" And I stumble over my words, knowing I have not. At least not nearly enough. I tell Bob: "I keep thinking, 'God, if I love her this much, how much more you must love her.'" "That's good," he says. "That's good." And I leave Bob with a lighter heart and a clearer appreciation of my love for her-- and of my pain. And I wonder: When will I take all of this to God? Soon, I think. But not yet. I am worried about her. She is looking for a job now. She is talking about salary and taxes and insurance and getting an apart-ment. Almost all of our conversations these days are about her-- her and her plans. 350 Review for Religious It bothers me a little. Why? Do I feel left out? (I have plans, too!) Or is it that I want our relationship to return to an earlier form, to a time when our plans tended to coincide more? Whatever, I suggest to her: "The next time we get together, let's do something. Like go bowling or even to the zoo or some-thing, okay?" She says okay. I am relieved, for I am tired of talking about her, about "it." But as soon as I admit this to myself, I feel small and selfish. I do not understand her reasons for leaving. They are deep and go back many, many years. She still believes in religious life, she tells me. She still loves our community. And yet leaving us is something she feels she has to do. I do not understand, but I believe she has to do this. That belief makes her going easier for me to accept. o~o o~o o~o o.'o I loved her before we were Sisters of Notre Dame. I will con-tinue to love her afterwards, too. Yet I sense (and so does she) that there will be a change in our friendship--a significant change. After all, our shared commitment in the same religious commu-nity has been a vital part of our friendship. With that pai't gong, we are both wondering: How much wili our friendship be altered? And will the two of us be up to such an alteration? These past few days have been "guilt days." I keep thinking: Did I, as a friend, fail her? Is that why she is leaving? Maybe there is something I could have done that would have prevented her from making this decision. Maj'be .I could have been more sensi-tive, more caring, more supportive, more . Or did we as a religious community let her down? Is there something we as a community should be doing to prevent all these departures? Maybe we are overworked. Maybe we are focusing too much on ministry and not enough on each other. Maybe we are living the life all wrong.-Maybe., maybe., maybe. Bob says,"Youwomen really do get emotionally involved in each other~ lives." May-.~une 1992 351 Svobodu ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves I ask, "Don't you men feel like this when a brother leaves your .community?" "No," he says, "with us it is different. I do not think we feel it nearly as much as you women do." If what Bob says is true in men's communities, there is a part of me that envies men. But, then again, there is a part of me that feels sorry for them. Peg calls. She knows now, too. Finally someone in the com-munity I can talk to about it. "What do you think?" she asks me. And I tell her what I think. Then she shares with me her feel-ings. She is hurt. She is angry. She is worried about Sue. And now there is an added dimension to my own pain: seeing the pain Sue's leaying is having on others like Peg. But it is Peg's anger that takes me aback. So far I have not felt any anger, have I? Only hurt. Only worry. But now I wonder: Am I denying my anger? Am I letting Sue leave us too easily? Should I be fighting more to make her stay? Is my acceptance of her decision my way of lessening my own pain? Of easing my anger? I do not know what to think anymore. At the break at the meeting, Carol grabs me by the arm and pulls me out into the hall. "What's with Sue?" she asks brusquely. Not sure how much she already knows, I ask, "What do you mean?" Immediately I sense her irritation: (She has ne;cer been known for patience--or gentleness.) "Okay, Melannie, you can spare me the gory details. I know she is leaving. All I want to know is: Is she going to be okay?" I nod. "Yes, she is going to be okay." Carol seems satisfied--with that tiny scrap of information. I am amazed at how little it takes to appease hei', how little she wants to know. But maybe I am reading her wrong. Maybe she is just being extremely respectful of Sue's privacy. Whatever, she walks back into the meeting seemingly content. It was announced today. In a letter from the provincial. One brief paragraph. (Over twenty-five years of living religious life, and one short paragraph to tell the community of your leaving.) She 352 Review for Religious has asked for a leave "for personal reasons." Let us "remember her in our prayers," and so forth. How many times have I read such announcements? You would think I'd have gotten used to them by now. But I never have. I hope I never will. When I get the letter and read it, I cry again. How strange. I have not cried in weeks about "it." Why now? Then I realize: the announcement finalizes "it." There is no denying her leaving now, no turning back. It is a fact. And every sister in the community knows it now, too. o:o o:. o~o .:o Mary meets me in the hall, and I can tell by her eyes what she is going to say before she says it. "I just read the announcement about Sue, Melannie," she says softly. "And--and I guess I just want you to know: I am praying for her--and for you. I know it must be hard." She puts her hand on my shoulder. I smile. I say, "Thanks, Mary. Thanks." But two people are struggling inside of me. One is saying, "Yes, comfort me! Please comfort me!" while the other one is screaming, "Go away! I do not want your pity! Go away!" So, she is gone. Officially. Not completely, of course. She is still "connected" to us, for the church does not ordinarily permit a quick egress from religious life. Rather, it encourages a gradual one. She is still one of us, although living in an apartment now and working on her own. She will stay in touch with "us" by her contact with the provincial, with one of our local communities, and with a few of us, her closest friends. I tell myself, "She might come back. Some do, you know-- after doing what they have to do or whatever . " But I know in my heart: hardly anyone ever does. I call Sue. It has been weeks since we talked. The spaces between our conversations and meetings are getting wider, I notice. She is upset because she feels her leaving has hurt so many sisters. She knows some are angry with her. She says, "Why can't they see that my leaving is not an indictment against religious May-June 1992 353 Svoboda ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves life or their decision to stay? Why can't they just accept my deci-sion?" I say something like, "Well, maybe you have to give them more time, Sue. After all, you took years to make your decision. Now give them time to work through accepting it." I see Bob ~again. He asks about Sue. "Have you begun to deal with what effect her leaving is having on you personally--and your own commitment?" "Not really," I say. "I think I am still wallowing in the pain of losing her. And I am still too worried about her to think too much about myself. And I am so busy, too." ("Mercifully busy," I think to myself.) He listtns attentively and then says, "That's okay--for now. But it will come, you know. Sooner or later. You will have to deal with it: your own decision to stay." I know he is right. At the community meetings this week, I miss her very much. I expect to see her in the hall, to have lunch with her, to laugh with her. Only she is not there. Afterwards I call and talk to her, but I do not know how much of these community meetings to share with her, how much she wants to hear about what "we" are doing. And I sense I am beginning to see her as no longer a part of that "we." If only she were more sure of herself. If only I saw more direc-tion in her life, more certitude. But she still seems so direction-less, biding her time with this temporary job, still searching for who knows what. Everyone asks me, "How is Sue doing?" And I never know how to respond. If I say, "Fine," that is a lie. She is not fine. She is confused, lonely, and struggling. But if I say, "She i~ having a really hard time right now," that is misleading, too. It makes it sound as if she has made a mistake in leaving us. So, not knowing how to respond to their inquiries, I usually end up saying, "She is okay--but it is hard, you know." And my 354 Review for Religious voice trails off, and I think I have communicated the truth as well as it can be communicated. I love her. I care about her. I miss her. That is all I am trying to say, God. These jottings are perhaps too focused upon me and not enough upon her. But I entrust even that to your love as I try to entrust all things--especially Sue. She leaves. I stay. Why? Forever I have never lived in forever. ? where love is always and night never comes. Tonight, as I crawl into the arms of your Love, God, the idea of lasting forever causes a shudder thru my being. I have never known forever. ? here, everything ends. Day ends when night comes. and Yesterday is different from Today or Tomorrow. Here nothing is always the same. As I lie here thinking of your Love that lasts forever, two pains f!ll my being-- fear and desire, because I who had a beginning will join You in life unending. I have never known forever. ? Vowed to You, I promise to persevere unto death. Should I not say, ". into life"? Claire Mahaney RSCJ May-j~une 1992 355 BRIAN B. MC CLORRY The Integral Sabbatical transitions I woke very early on a June morning, restfully uncertain where I was and so checked the surrounds with interest, coffee and cigarette in hand, looking for a sound, geo-graphical answer. The sunlight was bright, the landscape clear: Holman Island, Northwest Territories, Canada, some three hundred miles inside the arctic circle. The third and final part of my sabbatical had begun. Holman seemed a far cry from the Jesuit Renewal Center in Milford, Ohio, where the sabbatical had started, a far cry from Cambridge, Massachusetts, where I had spent a semester at the Weston School of Theology. It was all a far cry from Leeds, England, where I had been Catholic chap-lain for the University and Polytechnic. Both in Cambridge and Milford I had been mildly surprised at the number of people, mainly religious, who were also on sabbatical. No doubt there is a tendency for sabbatical people to frequent the same watering holes when they are not wandering the earth visiting their con-gregation's communities. Sabbaticals are now common among religious, and in the religious press sabbatical pro-grams are widely advertised. The sabbatical now seems to be an unexceptional part of religious life in much the same way that, for some congregations, the tertianship--a kind of compulsory spiritual sabbatical--is an integral part of formation. This is clearly a new development. Brian B. McClorry SJ writes from Manresa House; 10 Albert Road; Harborne; Birmingham B 17 0AN; England. 356 Review for Religious In the 1960s sabbaticals were primarily a way of dealing with problem people or people with problems. It was, of course, a moot point whether the problem belonged to the persons involved or to their congregations. These sabbaticals were, in part, ways of responding to developments which were unforeseen, confusing, and frequently unwelcome. Sometimes they were mainly thera-peutic or disciplinary. There is likely to be a healing element in many sabbaticals, but it is right to allow sabbaticals a valid exis-tence on the far side of therapy. Recently the sabbatical has been reintroduced as a disciplinary measure by congregations and Roman authorities in an attempt to save an order or an ortho-doxy felt to be imperiled. Again the question remains whether it is the person or the institution that stands in need of a sabbatical. This, however, is not a question I will discuss here. There were and are "problem," "therapeutic," and "disciplinary" sabbaticals as ' well as those associated with academic work. But none of these is unexceptional and integral to religious life. The integral sabbat-ical, however, is new. Of course it may well be asked how integral to religious life sabbaticals really are, even at a more or less empirical level. Neither all congregations nor all religious make use of them. Indeed, when taken, not all sabbaticals are greeted in a sufficiently sabbatical fashion. There is the itch to justify or to decry, a ten-dency to view sabbaticals as a reward, or a vacation, or as a debt to be paid. That there are many kinds of response to the statement "I am on sabbatical . . ." is sufficient reason for discussion. Moreover, if religious make widespread use of sabbaticals, the diocesan clergy in the main do not. There are regional and denominational variations. Sabbaticals are commoner among diocesan priests in the United States than in England; the Methodist Church in England has a policy and a provision for sabbaticals whereas Roman Catholic dioceses in England do not-- except in a very negative sense. The questions raised both by sab-baticals and their absence are of widespread interest. In what follows I will try to examine way~ of understanding the "integral" sabbatical, using my sabbatical experience as a kind of case study. This approach inevitably will be limited, but not inevitably limiting. There are no absolute anecdotes: individual cases are also part of our social, cultural, economic, and religious history. Most serious questions will be left decently unanswered on the ground that closure is ordinarily premature. May-d~une 1992 357 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical Timing and Validation One clear and important element in evaluating and preparing for sabbaticals is timing. Scriptural tradition designates every sev-enth year as a sabbatical year. The British province of the Society of Jesus provides for h sabbatical ten years after tertianship. Having a policy, provided it is not applied woodenly, allows indi-viduals to have and to plan for sabbaticals. It also allows the con-gregation to suggest them more easily. It is at the level of policy that the question of justifying sabbaticals emerges with particular force. Are sabbaticals.justifiable? As with many questions, this one is best approached not directly, but through the categories which are found helpful in discovering the kind of thing a sabbatical might be. There are, of course, lines of thought in the scriptural tradition. Originally the intention behind the sabbatical year was to give rest to the land, the vineyard, and the olive grove. This rest would give the poor and the wild animals a chance to eat (Ex 23:10-11) and allow debts to be remitted (Lv 15:2). There would be no scarcity, for the "sabbath of the land" itself would provide enough food (Lv 2 5:6). The help given to the poor was not to be confined to the sab-bath year (Dt 15:9), for this sabbatical value was of permanent importance and validity. What is involved here is a careful knowl-edge of the land, plants, and animals--and the perception that the workings of the economy both damage these and do violence to the community. People are squeezed out and forced into the powerlessness of debt. The sabbatical year is a piece of positive discrimination and a recall to the tru~ values and creative origins of the community. Parallels are problematic, but it may make sense to view the contemporary sabbatical in these terms rather than as intrapersonal refurbishing or as an opportunity for gain-ing skills or knowledge. To leave for a time the work we do may well benefit that work (there will be, it seems, no shortages), and both the work and the workers may recover their creative ori-gins. We may begin once more to perceive whfit is demanded and who is excluded both in our work and in our societies. In this sense a sabbatical may be an effective symbol of grace and faith, of justice and peace. The link between "sabbatical" and "sabbath" is obvious. Whether or not this is the beginning of a line of thought in favor of the "integral" sabbatical, the question of timing remains. Timing is not simply a matter of administrative convenience or 358 Review for Religious possibility, nor is it only a question of calendars, frequency, and opportunity. Some years ago I had a particularly trying period of ministry in a poor inner-city area. The ministry failed. The team failed to work together--a failure in which I was implicated deeply. Eventually the project was closed. I was hurt, angry, and had come to the end of the road. The off-road terrain was hardly visible. I scarcely believed I had energy enough left to start afresh any-where and so began to dally with the seductive idea of a sabbati-cal and its promise of escape. Fortunately my provincial suggested that I return to university chaplaincy work--a ministry I had known and liked. To my surprise I agreed quickly and easily and, in the event, found to my delight that the energy and interest were still there. The work therapy worked. After four years, how-ever, it became clear that my old and easy patience with under-graduates was wearing thin, that I wanted to spend my time with faculty, ecumenical questions, and issues affecting the institutions themselves rather than with students. It was not the end of the road, just time to go. Then the idea of a sabbatical reemerged, tinged with excitement, less seductive but more promising. The sabbatical promised to be less therapeutic or escapist than it would have been if taken earlier. It would be more positive, an affair of discovery. Sabbaticals are "integral" in more ways than one: they are better timed the more they are at one with the positive move-ments of our life stories and not just snagged on fragment.s of these narratives. Better timing, it seems, might also lead to a bet-ter content. Content and Desire Academics on sabbatical might well do research, though many academics speak of sabbaticals in terms not reducible to academic research. Nonacademics also might want to do research, to con-template steadily or ferret away busily in some area which comes into view as life-giving, deeply interesting, part of the emerging oudines of a mysterious but attractive future. On occasion it makes sense to learn skills that can be put to determinate use. Sometimes it is better to do woodwork. Clearly the content of a sabbatical varies indefinitely and could even include the possibility of a care-fully mixed cocktail. I wanted to have time, space, and the right environment for reading and writing. So much was a felt need. I also wanted to follow a program in spiritual direction. For many May-June 1992 359 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical years I had given one or two directed retreats a year and won-dered what, if anything, I had learned from the experience and what, if anything, I imagined I was doing in this ministry. It seemed that retreat work of some kind was a likely future. For me woodwork was not a serious contender--although I can almost smell the i:eel of the grain. Behind the question of content--what, after all, shall I do?- there is the matter of imaginati6n and desire. What do I really desire? How free or frozen is the imagination that shapes our conscious desires? What are the desires that might free or freeze our imaginations? It does not do to link desire solely with what is conventionally good, for there is more to good than convention supposes. It does not do to mold imagination only by pi'agmatic realism, for realism can imprison as well as free our imaginations. Desire is a matter of discovery and strange meetings: a geography of uncertainty and power. Maps for desire do not exist, for it is a contemplative heuristic, a medium in which mystery is disclosed. It is not, however, an infallible heuristic. A year before he died, a friend who had many desires told me, "I have never known what I really wanted to do." Desir~ is not exhausted in the desires we know we have. In Genesis the naming of animals is, in a strange and unfem-inist narrative, part of a search that culminates in the joyful, real-ized completion of creation. God brings the animals to the man to see what he would call them (Gn 2:19). To stay long enough in prayer so that completing the sentence "I want." is done iri God's presence is to begin to name those elements of ourselves and our world which God brings to us for naming. We may name what is incomplete or destructive in us, or what lacks integration in our lives. In this naming w~ may be set free of what possesses Us, an exorcism in which the demons, if they return, have no real power. We are freed from d~fensiveness and become less timid. Alternatively, we may find that we name our positive desires and find in this naming that the truth of our seeking and welcoming is revealed. In both cases the disclosure of the God who, in Christ, dream~ with us brings with it freshness and discovery. The con-tent of a sabbatical, however practical or impractical it may be, is also to be discovered, found out, stumbled across, given. The content of a sabbatical should resonate with or express the desires we discover in us, desires which at the same time help us find out what a sabbatical--or a life--might be like. 360 Review for Religious Even though my imagination was thin, my desires were real enough: an intern.ship in spiritu, al direction at Milford and a semester of reading at Weston. I felt there was much to be dis-covered in the course of these programs that would be enjoyable and useful. I did not envisage any discoveries jolting my paradigms. At Weston I would go on a light diet and look for space. There were, however, some four months of the sabbatical which were as yet undetermined. The "third world" was not a strong contender. I had recently spent a hard but exhilarating summer in Guyana and, years before, had done my tertianship in India. A journey to Zimbabwe or to South Africa always remained a possibility. Whatever the status of my gawky ratio-nalizing, the truth was that I had no particular desire to go to the third world. I found I wanted to go to northern Canada. The experience would be new, which is one value in sabbatical planning; but it was the desire to go, rather than arbitrary novelty, that mattered. Certainly I wanted to be far from known places and defined expectations; there was the lure of the north with its sparse and spacious environment and its rather specialized attractions of ice and snow. That world would have a different scent: snow alters aromas. The Canadian north had always been attractive to me, and once or twice I had sniffed at its fringes. But although the desire to go was clear, its rationale was elusive, mysterious. It had to do, I thought, with going to a large, remote, and cold place in order, paradoxically, to unfreeze my imagination and creativity. The north was the right environment for that kind of event, in some sense the necessary place. Moreover, there was the remote but dramatic possibility of spending time in the Canadian arctic. I liked the dramatic frisson, expected something to "happen," and found that the prospect enhanced the attractiveness of the sab-batical as a whole. It gave a sharp edge to the enterprise and I looked forward to that edge. I got out maps and wrote to bishops. The desire had emerged and persisted. The provincial concurred; the bishops in the north agreed. So much for the discernment. I write, of course, after the event--with the heightened accu-racy and inaccurate overclarity which marks retrospectives. Sometimes, however, the content of a sabbatical is found largely Sometimes the content of a sabbatical is found largely in retrospect. May-3~ne 1992 361 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical in retrospect. Characteristically I planned my sabbatical carefully. I was not going to drift into a sabbatical and discover afterwards that a sabbatical is what I might have had. My time would be spent well, responsibly, even originally. But planning has its times and seasons, and for many "planning" and "exploration" are hyper-active metaphors better replaced by "contemplation" and "wait-ing." A friend of mine spent the first three months of a sabbatical year waiting to see what he wanted to do; another spent some months after his sabbatical finding out what he had done and what his desires had been. It seems that the justification of sab-baticals and their content lies in the mysterious priority of desire and imagination rather than in efficient planning and declared good intentions. There is some need for discernment of desire and imagination, for neither whim nor designer image is a suffi-cient guide. Conventionally, the value of a sabbatical rests on enhanced skills, published research, a revitalized person. The generous mea-sure of truth in these pictures--which do express something of our desires--should not obscure another dimension. Sabbaticals are in some respects like parables.~ Jesus' parables carry many meanings and so have a capacity to interact in many and new ways with our lives and cultures, Sometimes the parables break under their own realism--ninety-nine sheep are left unprotected in the course of the search for the one which is lost. The parables both disjoint our ways of looking at and being in the world and open up new and energetic possibilities. On this basis it is mean-minded to settle effectivelyon one allowed description of a sabbatical, for example, "study leave." What matters is that sabbaticals are allowed to become parables, polyvalent narratives whose realism does not determine the story. Milford and Cambridge It is a commonplace that programs in spiritual direction include much "listening." Accurate, active, contemplative, prophetic, and holistic listening--with individuals and in a group--are all elements in a conversation. They are ways of dis-covering what may be going on in prayer or life--ways of finding a path that fits and may.lead somewhere. No doubt I learned and relearned some skills at Milford and welcomed the lines of inquiry and interest which these engendered. Such learning, however, is 362 Review for Religious notoriously not neutral or unaffecting. Listeners listen also to themselves; and, when they become conscious or aware of what they hear, there is the possibility and gift of a transformation which is not reducible to the addition of skill to skill. So I found, in a time of surprise, a change in me which was about trusting and expecting more from God. The coloration of my world shifted, its shape altered. The world I stepped into was a friendly place and the friend-liness was to be trusted. This perceived feature of the world was not a purely intrapersonal shift. Nor was it entirely an empirical affair. My father moved from house to hospital and from hospi-tal to a retirement home with his memory impaired. I returned to England for a few weeks to help the moves and to sell the house. The Gulf War started unbelievably and ended with unseeing cel-ebrations. Ten feet from me in a bus in Boston a man was shot in the face on Good Friday. But the world was friendly because God was in the world and the world was in God. This discovery did not invite me to rush into developing a theodicy or to reread the old ones, to put together friendliness and unfriendliness. If there was a theodicy, it would be rooted in, among other things, a complex attentiveness to the world, which was in God, and to God, who was in the world. Both the friendliness and the unfriendliness of the world called forth the look of friendly regard. This, the grace-ful face of panentheism, seemed new--a well-remembered face seen as if for the first time. This friendliness connected with specific matters in spiritual direction. In the language of Ignatius's Spiritual Exera'ses, I became better able to trust "consolation" both in myself and in retreatants. God, after all, relates to consolation and desolation in different ways. The relationship to desolation is real but entirely provi-sional; what characterizes God's action is consolation. In this friendliness it also became possible to sit happily with my igno-rance when giving spiritual direction. "Not knowing" was nei-ther a fearful void to be filled nor an affront to be denied. It was not an affront to competence but a resource to be tapped. To sit with ignorance was to be in danger of finding out, with the part-ner in the conversation, what good thing was happening, what shape hope might take. Such changes in ways of looking at and being in the world are at one with the Old Testament tradition on sabbaticals: a recovery of creative origins. They may happen in the staid, sup- May-d~une 1992 363 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical portive, and challenging world of the Jesuit Renewal Center-- although Milford, Ohio, is not a location which of itself provokes radical insight. (Sometimes it seemed that many areas of our planet are invisible from Ohio.) But changes may also require places or environments which are marginal or shocking. A friend of mine spent most of his sabbatical working in a refugee camp in Thailand. What can be hoped for, wherever we go, is that changes include but are not restricted to intrapersonal health and survival. They will also include the world in which we ordinarily live but have only partly discovered. We may also hope to accept and to find that we do not control the narrative of the sabbatical--nor does the institution or environment in which we find ourselves. Such hoped-for changes, as in the Old Testament tradition, do not need to be confined to the time of a sabbatical, but can have a more permanent validity. With some loss of narrative control, I spent a few weeks in Montreal and Quebec City writing fiction (short stories in which I struggled with and for the narrative) before descending on Cambridge, Massachusetts. The semester at Weston was to be reflective: a few seminars for social reasons and an amount of reading. There was much to delight in, from Erich Auerbach's Mimesis to Annie Dillard's Teaching a Stone to Talk. The reading mattered. Someone said that Annie Dillard's writing evidenced "an amoral hospitality to experience." What price could the dis-cernment of spirits fetch here? Auerbach's literary criticism dis-tinguished a high style, quite divorced from the ordinary life of undistinguished people, from a style, also high, which found won-drous significance in commonplace lives and circumstances. If Milford was about trusting God in a world in which consolation and friendliness were to be trusted, Cambridge was about doing that in the ordinary present--the place where true hospitality lies. For some periods of time I had felt (often with good reasons) that there were important things to be done which were not real-izable in the job I had, the place I was in, the circumstances in which I found myself. Matters were unsatisfactory. Something of this feeling is, perhaps, an occasional inevitability. Life is unsat-isfactory in different ways and at a variety of levels. But a gap can open between the present and the significant future which robs both of any real value. Of a character in Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep, the narrator says, "He was looking over into the next val- 364 Review for Religious ley all the time. He wasn't scarcely around where he was." The gap, of course, is about faith as well as presence. There can be a belief in a "god within" who does not welcome the present and a belief in a "god without"--usually absent from the present--in whose future greatness is promised. These two gods are awkward little idols who are not on speaking terms, but who conspire to augment the discomfort of the believer. In the disappearance of the gap between the present and the significant future, there is the loss of two idols, of two gods, and a being found by the one God. Monotheism turned out to be a very powerful affair. The disappearance of the gap, the exiling of the idols, helped me to let go of some things I would never do, however grand the significant future and the pointed present. This was not asceticism or realism, that doubtful consoler. In friendliness and free from the idols, I found there was no need to package myself, to tie up in well-wrapped parcels who I am and what I do. I become pack-aged for reasons of defense and success. But these energy-con-suming activities turned out to be not only harmful but also, and more importantly, unnecessary. The fears that provoked packag-ing became heavily relativized. John Macmurray has a striking remark about fear: The maxim of illusory religion runs: "Fear not; trust in God and he will see that none of the things you fear will happen to you"; that of real religion, on the contrary, is "Fear not; the things that you are afraid of are quite likely to happen to you, but they are nothing to be afraid of.''2 There may well be matters about which it is right and proper to be afraid, but the fear that provokes packaging turns out to be wonderfully otiose. What emerged in Cambridge and had been emerging in Milford was a new sense of integration or fit, not only in me but in how I am present in the world. I preferfit, with its sense of a curve fitting spot readings, a trail in the wilderness which finds the nature of the landscape, a saying in a conversation which res-onates and reveals. "Integration" is a touch static and inward. The appearance of the fit had precisely the quality of exploration and discovery--exploration within and, at one with that, explo-ration of the world. A man lies bleeding in the aisle of the bus, sol-diers pray for peace as the Gulf War ultimatum runs out, people have the glow and the shock of the Holy Spirit on their faces, the books are in the library, the seminar sparkles, and the cold May-June 1992 365 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical in Quebec City gnaws the bones by the frozen St. Lawrence out-side the first Jesuit house in Canada. In all of this idols vanish, the world has a new curvature, and God dreams and surprises. Sabbaticals are times for heralded and unheralded exploration and discovery. These are prime sabbatical hopes and valid extrasabbatical values. Going to northern Canada, to the remote places, seemed like an appropriate continuation of this journey. It had also the character of a celebration. Yukon and Northwest Territories From one point of view, I went north in order to "supply" in parishes and on mission stations. It would be a time of much trav-eling and short stays. As the sabbatical proceeded and the time for departure drew closer, I found that what I wanted was simply to be in the here and now, in that environment, with those people. To be present in a friendly, contemplative, unpackaged, and reflec-tive fashion was what mattered. I did not want to undertake a study tour or become a tourist. Nor did I want to stay in one place "working" or creating a proactive availability. For this period, rootedness was not a value. Staying wherever the bish-ops3 suggested would keep me free of programs, encourage a being present which had little predetermined character--and yet would allow me to give myself and others a ready and real account of what I was doing and why I was there. Performing a small ser-vice was a satisfactory blessing and a gift I needed. I also wanted to look at the landscape and to see what hap-pened when I looked. The environment, I thought, would announce itself in ways which could not be honored simply by going for a walk. From this viewpoint people were secondary, but there is an environmental dimension inseparable from human life and it seemed that the native people would be at one with their environment. That people were secondary in my immediate inter-ests was not a dismissive attitude. So I looked at the landscape-- from the ground and from the air in light planes. In Yukon Territory it turned out to be difficult to look steadily at the moun-tains, valleys, lakes. What was there remained veiled by a prodi-gal facticity, and I had to set myself repeatedly not to turn aside. To sit' with this ignorance was also difficult. "This coast is too beautiful," said a man in the Vancouver airport to a friend; "get me another beer." Eventually the season of looking (after winter 366 Review for Religioto and before summer) itself turned out to be curiously privileged. The mountains disclosed more of themselves when their features were picked out by a light snow cover than when blanketed by heavy snow, or as free of snow as they might be in the late sum-mer. All seasons are privileged and so--also and therefore--was this present time. Eventually it became possible to see shapes, colors, and variations--to pick out the crude outlines of the geol-ogy. At what seemed an infinite cost, it became possible to look steadily. The startling landscape and harsh climate provoked ques-tions. Although the land is beautiful, some of the "southerners" who have come to stay cannot tolerate the winter isolation and depression. The land is wonderful and the energy people expend relates them closely to the environment; but mining marks the landscape. The slag heap grows huge in the middle of the valley by the mine in Cassiar; the tailings continue to mark the Klondike. But in Elsa, a ghost mining town, there is no human activity. The trees, lynx, and martin--the original inhabitants--are beginning to reclaim their territory. To what does this expenditure of energy and ingenuity relate? Sometimes--often--the energy is not expended. Without employment the choices seem to be contem-plation, alcoholism, activism, or hibernation. But the southerners who come and stay--or who return with regularity--seem to be larger and more significant than I imagine they would be if they had remained "outside." It is as if the landscape gives them value and importance or allows their significanFe to emerge and flour-ish. Some come north for a time of healing or to step away from unaccommodating circumstances; others are on the run and bring their pursuers with them. At best there is more than eccentricity and escapism. Lives are lived with old values brought from the south which are given room and enhancement by the land; new values are recognized and welcomed in small towns in the moun-tain wilderness. Strong views coexist with tolerance, showing a respect for people similar to the necessary respect for the climate. At times there is scant respect for environmentalists, who are seen to have a relationship with the country and the animals which is thin and unreal compared to that of miners, hunters, and trappers. Yet downstream from Whitehorse the waters are polluted. The pollution amazes: the Yukon, though twice the area of the United Kingdom, has a population of only about thirty thousand. Despite the invitation and the rewards, I found it difficult to May-~t~une 1992 367 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical sit, to be, to contemplate, and see. My head, eyes, and feet were always in danger of being drawn away toward the future or toward present effectiveness. There was the ridiculous itch to justify how I spent my time here, in one of the most privileged environments on earth. To look, to appreciate and hear, were not more impor-tant but, rather, prior necessities. So much, it appeared, would be true for me also in the United Kingdom. There, too, I would need to discover how to look and listen. Eventually these dis-tracting energies, these pieces of unbelief, became insubstantial. Sitting in the dust--the gold dust--of Dawson acquired power. What mattered were walks along the banks of the Yukon River, taking care to identify the ducks. Surf scoters! This identifying and naming were not violently dismissive (a "that's that and what next?" attitude) but allowed what I saw to become part of the public world, made it shareable and so part of a communal promise. In some places the forests were thin. It was possible to move through them without following a trail or struggling through the undergrowth and fallen trees. Twice the bright' bark of the birch trees seemed to give light. The forest was lit from within: an event as unexpected and as usual as a fox crossing the road. I left the Yukon for the Northwest Territories. The flight from Whitehorse to Yellowknife exchanged vertical country for a horizontal landscape: a flat, flat land. Whitehorse, in mountain-ous country, has few buildings over three stories; Yellowknife, in a terrain that scarcely undulates, is full of high-rise buildings. So do we mark in our architecture our estimates of ourselves and our relationship to the land. The short Yukon spring, when all the trees came out in leaf during one afternoon, also vanished. I flew to Victoria Island, well north of the arctic circle, where there are no trees. It was snowing at Coppermine and Cambridge Bay, the snow flung horizontal by the wind. The frozen bay and the tundra do not make for "beautiful country," but they are exhila-rating: some snow remains and there are occasional, new flowers close to the ground. I see it as keenly and as vividly as the jaguar I saw in a Guyanese village two years ago. The twenty-four-hour sunlight and the intricate flatness of the land, heaved up into flat-topped rock formations near Holman, enliven my tentative pres-ence in these astonishing places. Suddenly the tundra is a place for happiness.4 There is excited wonder at the native people leaving their 368 Review for Religious houses and going to live in "camp" or "on the land" as the win-ter subsides, at the sleds, skidoos, and boats lining the bay and half covered in snow, the profusion of dog lines. There are the inviting enigmas of the snow and ice (color coded like the houses, where the color gives information about origin and ownership), the wreck of Amundsen's Maud. I walk by houses in spaces which are hardly streets, greeting and being greeted, enjoy the camps, am on holy ground. People here do not live "off the land" like Europeans on safari in what became African colonies; they live "on the land." Certainly they do not have "a place in the country." Marie Zarowny, interviewing the Dene and Inuit peo-ple about their political, economic, social, and cultural concerns, found that these were, for the people, inseparable from spirituality: "We are deeply spiritual and our spiritual power comes from the land . Our spirituality is tied in with the animals.''s I found, in this land of the Copper Eskimos,6 a desire for a project, a Gospel activity, and began to sense something of what it might be as I w.alked the tundra, cut inland by the lakes and pancake-topped striated banks, as I prayed in 'the mornings. It is to live and explore the belief that God in Christ is active in the middle of' our creativity and destructive-ness-- and to do so partly in terms of neglected areas of Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises. The context for this would be ecumenical. The people involved most likely would be marginal in ecclesiastical and social terms. Maybe something of this could be said in pub-lic language. I imagine a thin book as sharp, bright, and useful as a razor. The idea is not new. What is new is the tangibility given an idea by the land. The book does not itself matter. What counts is the invitation to live and move in this way. So much is a possible event, the gift that is also a product of looking and sit-ting with ignorance, of listening and friendliness. It is frail but real. Cautious at first, a caribou crosses the trail and moves off across the tundra, splashing through the meltwater and covering the bare ground and remaining patches of snow at a determined trot. An arctic hare appears, each hair individual and alive, crouches down ten feet away, and remains still, long-eared, and eye to eye. What mattered were walks along the banks of the Yukon River, taking care to identify the ducks. May-June 1992 369 I fly south of the arctic circle to Yellowknife, for two weeks in the parish--weeks full of conversations. Then I go on to Fort Smith, by the Alberta border, for a similar two weeks. It is good to sit by the Rapids of the Drowned on the Slave River watching the pelicans, the birds clearly at home in the spilling and swirling waters. Living "on the land" spoke of ways of living in the United Kingdom. Waiting for the looked-at and walked-over landscape to disclose itself speaks of a wider connectedness, a solidarity. I remember the six Jesuits and two women murdered in E1 Salvador on 16 November 1989. Later I fly north again, north of the cir-cle, to Inuvik. There I wonder once more about space and people: the Northwest Territories are larger than Western Europe and have a population of about 55,000. I do not know what this con-trast might mean or what it is to populate or overpopulate the land. In a short while I will exchange these huge and empty spaces for my own overcrowded little island, where every piece of land seems like an archaeologist's find. Meanwhile there is the Mackenzie delta to see--the delta of the Decho, to use the Dene name--and the small settlement of Arctic Red River to visit. But sabbatical time is running out. When I arrive back in England I will have spent some four months never passing more than two weeks at a stretch in any one place. Afterwards It is usual to say that those who travel undertake an inner journey as well as an outer journey. Covering distance, when the travel is a pilgrimage, is a metaphor for a change of mind and heart. Explorers explore also themselves and their own cultures. Similarly the landscape, the land on which we put our feet and live, is an exterior landscape which affects and is affected by our interior landscape. Barry Lopez, contemplating the "bleak and forsaken" aspect of Pingok Island in the Beaufort Sea, writes: The prejudice we exercise against such landscapes, imag-ining them to be primitive, stark, and pagan, became sharply apparent. It is in a place like this that we would unthinkingly store poisons or test weapons, land like the deserts to which we once banished our heretics and where we once loosed scapegoats with the burden of our transgressions.7 Happiness, however, had been given on the undistinguished tundra. The "land" had become a metaphor, a mnemonic, partly 370 Review for Religious learned and partly obscure, which held attractive promise. This was not distant from the care of the land in the Old Testament sabbatical tradition; it was close, also, to the concern for people and society, for the excluded, which is integral to that tradition. The landscape of Victoria Island and the Decho had reminders, in the oil storage tanks needed for winter warmth, of a different economy, other concerns. The land-scape would also include the cityscape, the interre-latedness and demands of first-world economies. Desire and fear both go into the making of cities and are evoked by the complexity and coloration of their shapes, just as they affect and are evoked by our perception of the land. The city includes and excludes, vivifies and oppresses--and needs as much care in its contemplation as does the tundra in the arctic and the mountains of the Yukon, as much set-ting of ourselves not to turn away. In the city, in our quotidian economies, the invitation is the same: to look steadily, to sit with ignorance, to trust the friendliness, to find, in this also impossible terrain, the outlines of the kingdom as drawn in the few "remembered" words of Jesus. Back in England, in Birmingham, there are vivid memories of smokehouses and camps, mountains and snow, the tundra and the frozen sea, mosquitoes and black flies, the particular people and their traditions. The coffee-lubricated conversations continue to echo. The tundra, I think, was easier to look at than Birmingham. But the tundra invites a fuller regard for my own place, these islands off the coast of Europe, and speaks of new possibilities. The landscape of the Yukon speaks of hoping for what is more and larger than is admitted in other, more usual, locations. Solidarities beckon in a welcoming fashion. A sabbatical is a way of returning to one's own place. The difficulty of all this is clear: "The differ-ing landscapes of the earth are hard to know individually. They are as difficult to engage in conversation as wild animals.''8 Nonetheless, to think of a world without wilderness is to be full of disquiet. For wilderness--living "in the land"--was integral to Milford and Cambridge, and is part and parcel of where I am now and where we all are. Explorers explore also themselves and their own cultures. May-June 1992" 371 Notes ~ In what follows on parables, I am indebted to James Crampsey, "Look at the Birds of the Air ." The Way, 31, no. 4 (October 1991): 286-294. 2 John Macmurray, Persons in Relation (Adantic Highlands, New Jersey; first published by Faber and Faber, London, 1961), p. 171. 3 Thomas Lobsinger OMI, Bishop of Whitehorse, and Denis Croteau OMI, Bishop of Mackenzie-Fort Smith--to whom I am very grateful. The Yukon and Northwest Territories are ordinarily a Jesuit-free zone. 4 A time of happiness, if not frequent, is at least commented on often enough for it to be by no means unique in this kind of terrain. See, for example, P. G. Downes, Seeping Island (Saskatoon: Prairie Books, 1988). The happiness contrasts with, but is not provoked by, the harshness of the country. Imprisoned by "a relentless wind of eight days fury," Downes is told by his partner "You do not 'hope' in this country; you do not hope, you just do the best you can" (p. 63). An explanation is given in a foot-note: "What he means is that 'hoping' is a passive state, and that you must be physically and mentally active in this type of situation." This seems also about right when hoping in God. s Marie Zawowny, "You Can Help Us to Become Strong Inside: Discerning the Direction of the Church with the Dene and the Inuit," Insight: A Resource for Adult Religious Education, no. 4, 1991, National Office of Religious Education, Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops. 6 "Copper Eskimo" was the phrase I heard. Local people do not always use the the more favored general name, Inuit--"the people." A fine account of life with the Inuit of the area is given in Raymond de Coccola and Paul King, The Incredible Eskimo: Life among the Barren Land Eskimo (Hancock House, 1989). The work was first published by Oxford University Press, New York, in the early 1950s under the title Ayorama; the new edition is fuller and uncensored. 7 Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams: Imagination and Desire in a Northern Landscape (Picador, 1987), p. 255. See also the chapter "Landscape and Narrative" in his Crossing Open Ground (New York: Vintage Books, 1989). 8 The continuation of the quotation noted in n. 7 above. 372 Review for Religious PHILIP L. BOROUGHS Using Ignatian Discernment work, ministry, or living arrangements. Diminishing energy, feel-ings of boredom or of being taken for granted, or an emerging desire for new challenges can signal a need to reappraise one's situation. Obviously, these times of transition are unsettling, and they can be stressful as one begins to let go of the security of the familiar and searches for new clarity and direction. However, these periods also can generate new possibilities and a renewed sense of responsibility for one's life. At times such as these, the Serenity Prayer of Alcoholics Anonymous seems particularly appropriate: "O God, grant me the courage to change the things that I can change, the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference." Sometimes circumstances warrant a fun-damental change in one's life, while at other times a change of attitude or behavior seems mor4 appropriate. As one critically reviews his or her situation and assesses available options, one wisely might wonder whether there are any norms or principles to help one choose among the options. In the Spiritual Exercises St. Ignatius of Loyola offers a num-ber of principles for discernment which can be extremely useful for those entering into a time of transition. One of the major goals of the Exercises is to assist those who Philip L. Boroughs SJ may be addressed at 621 17th Avenue East; Seattle, Washington 98122. May-June 1992 373 Boroughs ¯ Using Ignatian Discernment undertake them to make the right life choices. The principles of discernment reflect Ignatius's own experience of prayerful decision making, and a brief review of the major transitions in his life will offer a context for his insights. Ignatius's Life On 20 May 1521 Ignatius was wounded in the battle of Pamplona, and in the long recuperation period which followed, a fundamental reorientation of his life began. Over the next sev-eral months, as he contemplated his future, Ignatius became aware of different interior movements affecting him. Gradually he rec-ognized the patterns of these interior movements, noting that certain spirits or desires produced peace and hope while others, which initially delighted him, eventually left him sad and depressed. As a result of these fluctuations, Ignatius decided to fol-low the spirit or direction which ultimately consoled him, and thus his religious quest began in earnest. Abandoning his life as a soldier and courtier, he moved to Manresa and formally commenced a spiritual journey which grad-ually helped him to identify and understand his limits and dis-oriented attachments as well as his deepest dreams and desires. After months of intense prayer and penance, mystical experiences, and interior growth, he embarked on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. There he hoped to spend his life visiting the holy places and help-ing souls. However, after he had been in Jerusalem only nineteen days, the Roman Catholic authorities ordered him to leave. The political climate was tense, and they did not want to assume lia-bility for this questionable religious enthusiast. Accepting their legitimate authority over him, Ignatius con-cluded that it must not be God's will that he remain in Jerusalem. He decided that he needed further education if he were to serve God's people in some other capacity. He returned to Spain and began studying grammar at the University of Barcelona. Two years later he advanced to study the humanities at Alcalfi. After many months, however, his austere lifestyle and his growing rep-utation as a lay spiritual director caused such controversy that he was investigated by the Inquisition. Mthough exonerated of any wrongdoing, he was forbidden to continue his spiritual ministry. Consequently he moved to the University of Salamanca. There the same pattern was repeated, and once again he had to revise his 374 Review for Religious plans. Ignatius then transferred to the University of Paris, where he spent the next seven years earning his bachelor's and master's degrees. These were intense years of study and spiritual ministry, and they were also years when he gathered some lifelong com-panions who shared his ideals and his commitment to service. As his formal education drew to a close, Ignatius became seri-ously ill and was advised by his doctors to return to his native country to recuperate. He journeyed home with the understand-ing that he and his companions would reassemble in Venice once he had recovered. From there they hoped to gain passage for Jerusalem, where they would spend the rest of their lives in min-istry. Ignatius and his friends vowed to wait one year in Venice for passage to Jerusalem; but if they could not arrange their trip dur-ing that time because of political turmoil, they would travel to Rome and place themselves at the service of the pope. Since no ships left Venice for Jerusalem that year, they proceeded on to Rome in keeping with their vow. As their reputation for holiness and ministerial effectiveness spread, requests for their services began to arrive from various corners of the world, forcing this rather loose-knit group of friends to consider the nature of their commitment to each other. After weeks of prayerful deliberation, they decided to form a reli-gious community and elected Ignatius to be their religious supe-rior. Although he initially declined the position, subsequent prayer and consultation with his spiritual director moved him to accept. He spent the last fifteen years of his life as the superior general of the nascent Society of Jesus. During this time of rapid growth and development, Ignatius not only provided this new community with inspired leadership, but he also prayerfully drafted its con-stitutions. With the exception of his seven years at Paris and his final years in Rome, Ignatius moved fre.quently throughout his adult life. His constant effort was to discern and follow God's will within the social and historical realities of his time. A!though he was the recipient of many mystical graces, few of them provided him with specific instructions about the decisions he faced. Rather, these mystical experiences confirmed the general direction of his life and God's ongoing companionship with him. Decisions about particular choices he faced required prayer and discernment to discover God's will. Ignatius's early lessons in the discernment of spirits, his respect for human learning and reflectivity, and his May-~Tune 1992 375 Boroughs ¯ Using Ignatian Discernment courage to act once he felt he knew what God wanted of him facilitated his prayerful decision making during the numerous transitions of his life. Predispositions for Discernment Ignatius's religious experience and his Spiritual Exercises sug-gest that, if an individual wishes to enter into a process of dis-cernment in order to discover God's will, certain predispositions are necessary: interior freedom, sufficient knowledge of self and the world, imagination, patience, and the. courage to act respon-sibly. Without these graces, true discernment is not possible. Interior Freedom: The first paragraph of the Spiritual Exercises clearly asserts that interior freedom is a sine qua non for finding God's will: "We call Spiritual Exercises every way of preparing and disposing the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attachments and, after their removal, of seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul" (SpEx 1). When Ignatius speaks of ridding oneself of inordinate attach-ments, he can be very explicit. In the Meditation on the TWO Standards, he identifies inordinate attachments primarily as temp-tations to riches, honor, and pride (SpEx 142). Today we might describe them as an attachment to possessions or a specific lifestyle, a desire for recognition or a preoccupation with the opinion of others, and an insistence on being in control of one's life or radical self-sufficiency. Ignatius believed that attachments " ~uch as these would so condition one's life that one's relationship with God would be seriously compromised and one's freedom to find God's will would be lost. During times of transition in a person's life, other variations of inordinate attachments also can surface. For example, at the first sign of serious difficulty, some people immediately search for new living or work possibilities, fearful of the asceticism required for long-term commitments. Others, feeling misunder-stood and unvalued, find it easier to cling to chronic anger and bit-terness than to identify and address the source of these feelings and move to a more integrated life. Still others become so com-pletely preoccupied with their own personal growth that they ignore the legitimate needs of those whose lives are intercon-nected with theirs. Whatever form an inordinate attachment takes, 376 Review for Religious it can effectively inhibit the possibility of true discernment because it centers one's life in oneself rather than in God. Knowledge: True spiritual freedom or detachment depends on self-knowledge. More than just an understanding of one's limits or even one's patterns of temptation, self-knowledge requires a pro-found awareness of one's gifts and one's deepest desires. However, during times of transition, individuals frequently say that they do not really know what they want. This is often part of the initial unrest which introduces a need for change. But it also can be an invitation for individuals to reclaim their deepest desires, those essential values which give ultimate meaning to their lives, their relationships, and their involvement with the world. For example, when one becomes overwhelmed juggling the increasing demands of family and career, or exhausted by the mounting expectations of one's ministerial position, or seriously disillusioned by institutional intransigence, identifying again or reformulating one's deepest desires provides a starting point for making new choices. Articulating one's deepest desires helps one to prioritize commitments and can provide some perspective for letting go of tfiose concerns which jeopardize whfit is more impor-tant. Sometimes people come to realize that .they have to r~con-sider tfieir original life commitment because of s.ubsequent choices they have made over the years. Others may discern that their deepest desires have not changed, but their they have to find a new oi" healthier way of living them out. S~ill others may experi-ence a call to liv~ out their original commitment even more rad-ically. Reapp~:opriating one's deepest desires is a critical dimension of self-knowiedge. However, for Ignatius self-knowledge was not enough. He spent many years studying in some of the most respected univer-sities of his day and achieved an advanced degree in theology because he believed that education was a critical component for ministry. He even rediaced his intense spiritual activities during his university years because he discerned that his ex[ended prayer was interfering with his con~mitment to study. Ignatius emphasized education as a significant component in the formation of young Jesuits and as an important ministry of the Society of Jesus because through it he promoted the ongoing transformation of individu-als, church, and society. Consequently, not only knowing oneself, but also knowing the complexities of any given situation, pos- May-June 1992 377 Boroughs ¯ Using Iffnatian Discernment sessing a critical understanding of systems and structures, and having sufficient education for one's current ministry or some new possibility are critical dimensions of a discernment process. Imagination: Knowledge in concert with imagination can produce new possibilities. Ignatius clearly manifested an imaginative approach to ministry through the creation of the Society of Jesus and its novel structures and methods. He also used the power of imagination in his approach to prayer. Through an imagina

Issue 30.2 of the Review for Religious, 1971. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 6i~ Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania tgxo6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building ; 539 North Grand Boulevard ; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright (~) 1971. by REvmw Fog RELIO~OUS. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, Maryland and at additional mailing offices. Single copies: $1.25. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year, $11.00 for two years; other countries: $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REvmw Yon RELtOtOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REvmw yon RELIOIOU!L Change of address requests should include former address. - Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REvmw FOR RELIOIOUS; P. O. Box I 110; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editorial correspondence, and books for re-view should be sent to REvIEw FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. MARCH 1971 VOLUME 30 NUMBER 2 BROTHER THOMAS MORE, C.F.X. Religious: Partners for Justice and Peace Within the past few years, Pope Paul VI has established January 1 as a World Day of Peace. For 1971 he has selected the theme: "Every man is my brother." To enlist the support of religious institutes, the Holy See recently sent a document to" all superiors general stating that the World Day of Peace should transcend the limits of a simple celebration and really bring to the world the message of Christ's love. This Day of Peace is an invitation for an examination of conscience; it is an exhortation not to judge or condemn others, but to find out how much we ourselves as individuals and as mem-bers of society are accomplices of evil in this world; it is a means of making us more aware that we are and ought to be the guardians of our brothers. As religious by the very nature of their profession are orientated towards their fellow men, they have special motives for making this examination of conscience. Pious practices are not sufficient to make us good Christians. Christ Himself told us that we shall be judged by our attitudes and acts towards our fellow men. Nor is it suffi-cient that we be on good terms with our fellow religious. In this age, with the mass media keeping us informed about what is going on throughout the world, we cannot say to the Lord: "Where did we see you hungry, or naked, or" in prision. ?" The theme for 1971 looks beyond the present state of hostility in the world to the root of war--a failure to understand the yearning for the recognition of basic human rights by men in all parts of the world to escape from hunger, misery, disease, discrimination, and igno-rance. As long as this festering condition exists in any part of the world, there will always be the threat of war, violence,- and unrest. Perhaps nowhere else have the hopes of this part of mankind been better expressed than in Pope Paul's own Brother Thomas More, C.F.X., is su-perior general of the Xaverian Broth-ers; Via Antonio Bosio0 5; 00161 Rome, Italy. VOLUME 30, 1971 161 ÷ ÷ ÷ T. More~ C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS blueprint for peace, Populorum progressio: "Freedom from misery, ~he greater assuranceof finding subsistence, health and fixed employment; an increased share of re-sponsibility without oppression of any kind and in se-curity from situations that do violence to their dignity as men; better education--in brief, to seek to do more, know more and have more; that is what men aspire to now when a greater number of them are condemned to live in conditions that make their lawful desire illusory." It is these men and women in particular whom'the Holy Father wants us to see in the light of Christian charity as our brothers. For only when we do believe them to be our brothers can we be deeply concerned about their struggle to obtain their freedom. This struggle for freedom is given greater emphasis if it is looked at within the framework of three contem-porary issues that are on the front stage of our history. The first is that 20% of the people living in the Atlan-tic world command about 75 to 80% of the world's in-come, investment, and trade. This statement becomes more than a matter of statistics when we realize that the society within this 20% contains a large number of professed followers of Christ who are the inheritors of a Christian tradition. But within this society, "Christianity is invoked in order to lead a sort of crusade against communism. Christianity is invoked in order to combat the wave of hatred, deeprooted re-sentment and terror which is rising everywhere. The 20% who let 80% stagnate in a situation which is often sub-human-- what right have they to allege that communism crushes the human spirit? The 20% who are keeping 80% in a situation which is often sub-human--are they or are they not responsible for the violence and hatred which are beginning to break out all over the world?" x If these words seem to ring with the exaggerated rheto-ric of a prophet, they do come from the heart of a bishop in an underdeveloped section of Brazil to awaken us from complacency. The second contemporary issue is the influence of the younger generation in movements for social justice and peace. It is almost universally agreed that this young generation has a feeling of oneness in human develop-ment and is alive to the increasingly international char-acter of human events.~ Also among the young is a new 1 Helder Camara, "Development Projects and Concern for Struc-tural Changes," IDOC, North American edition, May 23 1970, p. 20. 2John Tracy Ellis notes that in the transformation of the Catholic Church's leadership in the United States from a passive to an active adherence to the social papal encyclicals of John XXIII and Paul VI, the Church had the advantage of the "radically different ap-proach to war and peace" of students in the Catholic colleges, uni-versities, and seminaries, "the vast majority of whom were much radicalism which questiOnS strongly, often violently, the priorities and standards inside the economy and struc-tures of the Atlantic world. "If, say the young, this is the ultimate fine flower of our commercial industrial civiliza-tion, it might be better to blow it up and start again." a The third current issue is the growing awarenegs that we live in a village world, that we belong to a world community. We are all becoming alive to the increasingly inter-national character of human events and associations. There has been a great stir~:ing of conscience on the sub-ject of world poverty in the midst of plenty, on the ques-tion of world peace, and in the matter of racial discrimi-nation, wherever it may be practiced. This stirring of conscience and the awareness of the repercussion of global events have helped to break down parochial and national barriers. People everywhere are catching the vision that sees any deprivation of human rights as a universal crisis that profoundly disturbs the world community. Within this contemporary framework of an unbalanced world economy, the influence of the young generation in social justice and peace movements, and the search for world community, the Holy Father's theme for 1971 has a particularly strong appeal for religious. There is abundant evidence that religious in the United States are aware of these three contemporary issues and of the major social ills of our times. The fol-lowing suggestions and reflections are made as contribu-tion to this growing involvement of religious in arousing the People of God to promote development, justice, and peace in a world where "Every man is my brother." Peace As professed disciples of Christ, we cannot limit our horizon to the internal concerns of our community life. As members of a religious institute, we cannot be satisfied with the missionary efforts of a few of our members in developing countries. Perhaps there was a time when people could feel at ease when they had prayed for peace. In our days, we have an inescapable responsibility not only to pray but also to do something for peace in the world. Peace is an involved and sometimes painful question. It touches us on the emotional level because of our racial, national, religious, social, or educational background, or more sensitive to the papal teaching on peace than their parents and grandparents had been" (American Catholics and Peake [Washing-ton: Division of World Justice and Peace, USCC, 1970], p. 14). a Barbara Ward, The Angry Seventies (Rome: Pontifical Commis-sion of Justice and Peace, 1970), p. 44. + + + Justice and Peace VOLUME 30, 1971 163 ÷ ÷ T. More, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 164 because of other more or less conscious motivations. For the.objective education of ourselves, our communities and those whom we serve in Our apostolates, we have to make a continuous effort to overcome these all too human feelings. We must likewise try to avoid all blind spots of emotional prejudice which prevent us from seeing the real issues. One of the first things to be done .is to seek informa-tion in order to build up a solid basis for judgment. To refuse, either emotionally or through sheer indifference, to become informed is certainly one of those sins of omission which the renewed liturgy has most appropri-ately called again to our attention. The constitution Gaudium et spes (n. 82) gave us a lofty ideal when it stated that "it is our duty to prepare, by all possible efforts, the time when all war can be com-pletely outlawed by international consent." Too often we are not aware of the moral influence which we, as individuals or as a group, can exercise on the political level. War is one'of the major moral concerns of our day --what is our attitude toward war in general? Do we know and appreciate the theoretical and practical impli-cations of moral theories on war and on the use of vio-lence? Does the traditional "just war" theory still hold in our times when the powers of destruction are apocalyptic? Gaudium et spes continues: "Those who are dedicated to the work of education, particularly of the young . should regard as their most weighty task the effort to form the minds of all to the acceptance of a new spirit of peace. Every one of us should have a change of heart." Those religious engaged in the apostolate of education have the opportunity and the duty to give practical direction in this area. In particular cases there should be discussions with students and parents on the implications of "conscientious objection," passive civil resistance, and other controversial attitudes towards war, social injustice, and the like. Moreover, as citizens we have our political rights and duties. On some occasions this may require forthright speech and action, after mature consideration, even against decisions made by the highest authorities. We all respect the attitude of a man like Dietrich Bonhoeffer and of others under the Nazi regime, or of some modern Soviet authors, or of. a man like Hekler Camara. Great and at times heroic courage is needed by such people to stick to their most profound convictions and to suffer for them. In a democratic society similar courage can sometimes be needed. One can appreciate, for instance, the moral fortitude of the American Jesuit provincials who, in a letter to all United States senators, on May 21, 1970, expressed their deep concern about the recent de-velopments in the Vietnam war. Development and Justice We must show every man the esteem, the respect, and love which he deserves as a member of the human family and as a being created by God and the object of His love. We must concern ourselves with the full human develop-ment of the world, to take a global view of mankind and of the human race, to see ourselves as members of a planetary village, where "Every man is my brother." Religious cannot be less sensitive than the younger generation to the worldwide and national obstacles to social justice; nor can they fail to see in these committed young people their fellow brothers and sisters who may be showing religious that evangelical poverty can be the purest expression of Christian liberality. In every religious institute there have been community and chapter debates on evangelical poverty. Some think it has lost its meaning or that it has no place in contem-porary society. But before reaching such conclusions, the individual religious or the community involved should remove from the scene all those obvious unnecessary forms of middle-class comfort upon which so many of them may depend. Perhaps a few bold steps in experi-encing how poor people live might also be considered. Communities and provinces could include special de-velopmen~ projects in their budgets.4 It may then hap-pen that religious will discover alternate options to settling down to a comfortable middle-class existence. This process of "settling down," with its subsequent bourgeois acceptance of a comfortable and secure living, is a corporate sin which religious can fall victim to against the spirit of poverty. And this lack of the spirit of evangelical poverty can prevent religious from being sensitive to the social ills of our society. The greater awareness in our times of belonging to a world community parallels the movement within the re-ligious life for a greater understanding of gommunity. If fuller participation in community is evangelical, if it is the forum 'in which the hope of the Resurrection and the appreciation of the present realities are held in ten-sion, then it will predispose religious to take a global vision of mankind and of the human race. This vision ought certainly to be one of the first fruits of the new religious community. *See Louis G. Miller, C.Ss.R., "The Social Responsibility of Re-ligious," REWEW fOR REI.~CIOUS, v. 29 (1970), pp. 658-61, for a practical suggestion for practicing social consciousness on the prov-ince level by investing funds to alleviate the pressing social crisis in our times. 4- 4- Justice and Peace VOLUME 30, 1971 165 ÷ T. More, .F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 166 Provincial and general chapters need to discuss those issues which profoundly affect the world community and national communities, with the hope that as they face their own internal problems, they will also turn toward those which lie at the heart of our contemporary society. Some of these issues are: racism, minority groups and. human rights, nationalism, .conscientious objection, the so-called theory of "just war," and disarmament in our era of nuclear weapons and missiles. Religious should continue to serve the Third World through their missionary work. However, this commit-ment ought to be incorporated into the new thinking on evangelization-development now taking place in many secular and religious assemblies. As Father Philip Land, s.J., of the Pontifical Commission of Justice and Peace pointed out recently to the superiors genera.1 in Rome, one of the chief contributions religious can make is to un-derstand the development debate, increase their com-mitment to the UN's Second Development Decade, and integrate the activity of their congregation into this global project. As an example of the need to understand the devel-opment debate, Father Land pointed out that real challenges confront religious as regards developing and developed countries in the area of education. With re-gard to the former, it is widely argued that Christian schools produce an education that simply ties their stu-dents to the existing power structures; with regard to the latter, it is questioned whether our schools produce an education conducive to the structural changes the poor nations rightly demand. The final suggestion is that made by Monsignor Joseph Gremillion, Secretary of the Pontifical Commis-sion of Justice and Peace, to a recent assembly of su-periors general: "The initiatives of religious are abso-lutely vital everywhere. Even though conferences of bishops might take certain responsibilities, it is essential that 'free movements' and individual leadership be ex-ercised-- a~d often this is provided by religious, men and women, as chaplains, inspirers, educators, anima-tors." "Every man is my brother": In choosing this theme, the Holy Father's aim is to help people to become aware of the unity of the human family, and thereby to favor a deeper and more sincere solidarity between men by removing from their manner of acting every form of discrimination based on distinction of race, color, cul-ture, ethnic origin, sex, social class, or religion. Are we prepared to play our part for a better, a more human, a more Christian world? JEAN LECLERCQ, O.S.B. Culture and the Spiritual Life I. THE MEDIEVAL MONASTIC TRADITION Learning and the culture which results from it refine a personality by helping it to acquire certain values of humanity which make up the fund of the commonwealth of human nature. In the Middle Ages these were never isolated from a man's religious living: they became part and parcel of his initiation to Holy Scripture, spiritual reading, meditation, prayer; they were determining fac-tors in a man's search for God, a search which, at all times, implies an ascesis not only for the inquiring mind, the intelligence, but for every one of man's faculties. These human values are not independent; they are an-cillary to the more noble values of a sacred humanity, that is, of a human nature and condition penetrated with the grace of Jesus Christ, transformed by the Holy Spirit, and consecrated, set apart for the Father in the Church. For the men of the Middle Ages who sought after God, Christian humanism meant something more than mere assimilation of culture; it implied the growth and self realisation of the person in the totality of his values: the raw material of human nature was never separated from the refining effect of Christian living. Certainly, culture and language had an important part to play in this process of fructification; but they did not, of themselves, bring it about. They favored the assimi-lation of profane literature and allowed the scholar to discern those experiences which were susceptible of being transformed and thus raised to the level of his own lived Christian reality, the level at which he became and real-ized himself by union with God. Thus in order to under-stand the humanism of these Medieval monks we must try to discover the specifically Christian experience lying behind the terms of a language inherited from masters of pagan antiquity. We have, as it were, to guess the per-sonal experience, the desire for God experienced by each + + + Jean Leclercq, O.S.B., is a monk of Clervaux Ab-bey in Luxem-bourg, Europe. VOLUME 30, 1971 16'/ lean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 168 writer who loved learning; we must endeavor to unveil in some way the Medieval monastic writer's intimate being in presence of God. Conflicts and Solutions But once we start trying to do this, we perceive the presence of two conflicting parties. According to the degree of sensitivity of a given Medieval period, this conflict situation is experienced more or less keenly, more or less clearly, and expressed more or less frequently in the texts. But the two parties of the conflict are con-stantly in presence and are mutually conditioning. The first conflictual element is the relationship to be established between the spiritual life and the profane realities which one met with when learning Latin; the problem with which students had to grapple was how to remain Christian and become even more so by contact with pagan values expressed in ancient literature. The second element is situated in the sphere of impact be-tween man's fallen state and the nobleness of human nature: man has personal experience of concupiscence waging within him; his experience tells him that he is capable of sinning, and that he actually does sin; but he knows too that he is endowed with a real "capacity" for God--the Medieval man firmly believes that he is capable of throwing open his being to the divine pres-ence, and even that God does already dwell within him. Divided as he is, how can man recover his unity? Let it be noticed that the experience of this conflict situation was not the monopoly of monks: it is inherent to our human condition. The solution to this problem lies, now as then, in the encounter of God and man in Jesus Christ, and in the union between man and his Savior. Yet if we judge by the number of witnesses and their spiritual density, it seems that it was more keenly experienced, in a more privileged manner as it were, in monastic circles. Elsewhere, pastoral or temporal activi-ties distracted the attention. But in the cloisters, there was nothing to alleviate the inner combat; the monk constantly kept the whole of his existence focused on a search for the presence of God. His method was prayer. Nothing hollows a man out as much as the activity of prayer; nothing more than prayer makes him fathom the depths of his own abyss; in prayer man comes up against his own void, he experiences the need he has of God. We see, then, that monks were in the ideal conditions for suffering this conflict more keenly than their fellowmen. They expressed it more frequently than others outside the cloister, but it has always been the common lot of humanity. And humanism is nothing else than th'is conjunction of a given experience and a given culture in a single person. The higher this experience and this culture are, the more the person develops his human capacities. It is not a ques-tion here of mere literary varnish, but of a profound en-richment on the level of the intimate depths where a man meets his God. The humanism of the Medieval monks supposes this alliance of culture and the spiritual life, with all that this implies in ascesis and prayer. The mon-astery offered the means for acquiring culture, and the religious experience which the inmates underwent pro-vided an objective for this culture; the monastery was the workshop, so to say, where man, by the instrumen-tality of culture, attained, over and beyond culture itself, to union with God. The Drama of Christian Humanism Having once grasped the fact of the conflict which the Christian humanist, within and without the cloister, had to overcome, it will be suspected that harmony was not established without a certain drama. And Medieval mo-nastic texts confirm our suspicions. Always, we find the conjunction of the two inalienable elements of Christian experience provoked by honest and cultured reading of Holy Scripture. These two elements are ~emptation and hope: the latter is always predominant and has the last word. Why? Because, as one Medieval writer reminds us: Stat Iesus et dicit.--Jesus is there and He speaks to us. That is just what humanism is: an experience of Jesus Christ present in man. In order to taste, to savor, ~the reality behind words we must not only read but also live. You notice that reading, learning is a primary condition of any religious experience and the result is always inner peace. Between the beginning, the abc, and the end lies a long struggle to be waged between the different values, a struggle between contrary tendencies. Many acts of this drama are painful, but it always ends in light and peace. This supreme and perfect realization of-man, of hu-manism, is none other than the perfect accomplishment of the Incarnation: there is no more lofty humanism than that which leads to perfect union of man with God. In reading some Medieval authors one is tempted to say that for them there is a sort of humanism in God shown by divine care for man which goes so far as to assume humanity into the divinity. The kernel of such a theol-ogy is the justification of the humano-divine situation, the justification of the passion and death of Christ in function of man's reconciliation with God. And what strikes us in Medieval works structured round such theol-ogy is that often, though major stress is laid on God's honor and glory, the primacy of man and his salvation in the divine economy is dominant. For certain Medieval + ÷ + Culture VOLUME 30, 1971 ]69 ÷ ÷ ~ean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS theologians it is essential to God's honor and glory that mankind whom he has destined for eternal happiness should be saved. Conclusion Throughout the Middle Ages, the problem in mon-asteries and other Christian seats of learning was not to say "yes" or "no" to culture, but to discern the correct use to be made of it. The monks took the risk of ac-quiring culture, they saw the danger; they overcame the risk in the strength of humility and ascesis: their courage led them to love. Let us, in a sort of review of the conflict situation, see how monks were victorious in suffering and joy. The texts left by Medieval monks prove that it was no imaginary struggle; they help us to grasp the concrete, real, even existential nature of the conflict in the student --it was a struggle for purity of heart and purity of body. It was a real personal problem that the student had to solve; nothing could be further removed than this from a merely speculative, a so-called objective attitude with regard to profane realities. The problem was real and acute. The solution could only be found in Jesus Christ in whom one of the divine Persons, belonging to another world, lived in a man of our own world. The Last Supper and the Resurrection are absolute and undeniable reminders that Christ's pres-ence in this world appropriates even the physical ele-ments of man. And the Medieval person is always per-ceived in a triple relationship to a second self--a superego (t3ber-Ich), a self-surpassing self, if we may so say--to God and His kingdom, and to man's place in this king-dom. Now the ego surrenders itself to a superior power, not, as might be thought, by emptying self of sell but in liberating the potentials for self-surpassing which it con-tains. The aim is not to seek one's own advantage-~one's own pleasure or glory--but to renew the experience of those whom the Bible tells us encountered God, before being in a position to manifest Him. The glory of a creature is to serve the Creator, to refer to Him; and this man is able to do because God has endowed him with reason. Man is not centered on himself but on God, and the Medieval monk cannot construct a doctrine of man on any other foundation than his relationship to God. The monk exists as an individual, and he knows it, he experiences the truth of this reality in moments of temp-tation and on every occasion where he becomes conscious of himself; yet he knows too that he is not autonomous in the sense that he could have any worth independently of God; the monk's self-realization, the development of his personality as such could never be his sole objective nor sut:fice to make him totally happy. There thus coexist in him at all times, and sometimes in a manner which we find baffling, on thb one hand that which is specific to his human nature--his failings, but also his capacity for reasoning, for critical reflection-- and on the other hand faith in a mystery which he cannot grasp, and even belief in the marvelous. The Medieval religious man knows that he carries within himself both greatness and pettiness; heis a sinner, but God comes to meet him, and he in turn goes towards God. The en-counter is perfected in Christ who, as God, created man in the cosmos, and as man situated Himself in this same cosmos. The encounter between God and His sinful crea-ture is also accomplished in the man who lives united to Christ. The Christian man is already, in the kingdom of Christ, a homo caelestis--but not entirely so. Para-doxically, carnal man has still to become the heavenly man which he already is. This transformation, this meta-noia, can only be accomplished within him by the daily fight, by a constant and daily conversion to the Lord. The perfect man, he who is already totally re-formed, even transformed, transfigured, is none other than the saint: from this point of view, it is easy to understand why hagiography has such an important place in Me-dieval monastic historiography. Lastly, just as he is attracted by heaven--which he likes to represent as being open, on the occasion of theophanies for example--the humanist in the monastic Middle Ages is on friendly terms with everything created: the cosmos and animals which he tends to idealize. There is a tension within him, between his own self and the world in its two aspects, earthly and yet already sanctified, and in this sense, heavenly. The solution to all these at-tractions, tendencies, and tensions lies in the mystery of the cross which is figured in medieval representations as a symbol of struggle and victory: in hoc signo. Sometimes the cross is framed by a low doorway, the narrow gate which at once separates and unites, and by which one has to pass freely of one's own will by liberating self, by shaking off something of self --- this is the narrow gateway beyond which we can find self again, and with self every-thing else once sacrificed but now bathed in light. II. A CONTEMPORARY MODEL But now, in order to step beyond Medieval history, let us see how such an ideal can be lived in our own desac-ralized and profane twentieth century. There are many examples of men ~ind women who ally culture with the spiritual life sometimes attaining to high sanctity on the university campus--always under the sign of the cross ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture VOLUME 30, 1971 of Christ. The example we choose to quote here is none other than Edith Stein: the scholar and the saint, as she has been called. Witnesses are never more eloquent than in the testimony of their lives, often translated, in the case of men and women of learning, into writing. We can do no better than let Edith Stein speak for herself in a few carefully selected texts. As we read through her works we notice that there is one major generating principle of energy--a unified ex-istence in which the many activities are brought together as a single unit tending to the one thing necessary to the Christian humanist: the knowledge of Christ crucified and his all-pervading dynamic presence in professional and private life. Edith Stein had grasped this principle. After having spent Holy Week of 1928 at the Benedictine Abbey of Beuron, she wrote: Passiontide and Easter are not meant to express simply a transitory festive mood quickly submerged in the daily hum-drum; no, they are the divine power living in us, which we take with us into our professional life so that it may be leavened by it. This oneness, this unity between apparently contradic-tory, even paradoxical elements of an existence seems to be a characteristic of Edith Stein--the passion and the cross are a single divine power, the fulcrum by which she raised the deadweight of daily humdrum existence. There was a constant dialectic tension within her, a continuous striving to reconcile on a higher level--that of union with God--the realities of life, at home, in school, or on the campus. It is evident that this harmonious unity was not at-tained without a persevering ascesis in order to face squarely and solve peacefully the dilemmas roused by the co-existence of the love of learning and an ardent desire for God. In the present context we cannot develop the matter as fully as we should like; we shall merely illus-trate how Edith Stein harmonized four very important dialectic tensions. + + + Jean Leclereq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 172 i. Harmony between the Spiritual and the Intellec-tual Life In February 1928 she wrote: Of course religion is not just something for a quiet corner and a few hours of leisure; it must be the root and ground of all life, and this not only for a few chosen ones, but for every true Christian. (of whom, indeed, there is always only a small number). It was through St. Thomas that I first came to realize that it is possible to regard scholarly .work as a service of God. Immediately before, and a long ome after my conversion, I thought living a religious life meant to abandon all earthly things and to live only in the thought of the heavenly realities. Gradually I have learned to understand that in this world something else is demanded of us, and that even in the con-templative life the connexion with this world must not be cut off. Only then did I make up my mind to take up scholarly work again. I even think that the more deeply a soul is drawn into God, the more it must also go out of itself in this sense, that is to say into the world, in order to carry the divine life into it. This text shows that Christian humanism is not the pri-vate property of scholars, it is incumbent on every Chris-tian. We also notice that learning, scholarly work, is a service of God. In other letters Edith Stein states the con-ditions for maintaining the balance of power between the spiritual and the intellectual. The keyword is sim-plicity. The scholar has to be simply content with the conditions of life; he has not to be anxious about many and superfluous things. We might almost say that he has to take life as it comes. This is detachment, another con-dition which Edith Stein considered essential for the truly Christian humanist--detachment from earthly riches, but also detachment from spiritual goods: she teaches that we must not be anxious about times for praying---each one must pray according to the possibilities of his professional commitments. Nevertheless a portion of the day should be set apart for God. Edith Stein writes: The chief thing is first to have a quiet corner where one can converse with God as if nothing else existed, and this every day. The early morning seems to me the hest time for this, before the daily work begins. Further, I think, this is where one re-ceives one's mission, preferably for each day, without choosing anything oneself. Lastly, one should regard oneself entirely as an instrument, especially those powers with which one has to work, for example in our case one's reason--I mean as an in-strument which we do not use ~urselves, but God in us. 2. Harmony between the Intellectual Li[e 'and'Every-day Life The scholar must not live shut up in his study from morning to night. The humanist, the Christian scholar, is a person closely linked with human values in and around him; he should have contacts with the world of his fellow men if his learning is to be really a service of God. Christian Iearning, like prayer from which it should never be separated, is a diacony. Here again, Edith Stein has left principles of unifying action, theory which was practiced in her own existence as a scholar, within and without the cloister. She was well aware of the danger of intellectual aloofness as she shows by this extract from an article published in 1931: All of us who live in the universities absorb a little of the "type ot~ the intellectual". But we must be quite clear that this attitude separates us from the crowds. Outside people bat-tle with the daily needs of life in their manifold forms. As soon as we go out they confront us . We are placed among people ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture 173 whom we are meant to help in their needs. They ought not to think of us as strange beings living in an inaccessible ivory tower. We must be able to think, feel, and speak like them, if they are expected to have confidence in us . The intellectual can find the way to the people--and without finding it he can-not guide them---only if, in a certain sense, he frees himself" from the intellect. Here again we notice the principles of Christian soli-darity, humanity, service, and detachment: freedom from self for others. ÷ ÷ ÷ lean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 174 3. Harmony between Traditional Culture and Con-temporary Mentality This third dilemma is by no means the least which the modern scholar has to face.For Edith Stein, the patron of existentialism, as she has been called, it meant balance between the past and the present. The favored disciple of Husserl, translator of Aquinas, had to find a way of living progress; she had to realize the Bergsonian principle of progress: the past which advances and amplifies in the present as it'becomes the future. Her well-defined meth-odological principles (betraying an ascetically trained mind) enhanced and structured her art as a teacher and show how she combined the past and the present: Wherever scholastic arguments are our point of departure, we shall first present them in scholastic terminology. But in order to ascertain that we have grasped the actual sense of the matter, and are not just playing about with words, we shall seek to find our own terms, in which to render the pas-sages in question. While doing this we want to think together with the old masters in a vital manner; but not only with the old masters, but also with those who have resumed the ques-tion in their own way in our time . This is the necessary way especially for the present author, whose philosophical home is the school of Edmund Husserl, and whose native tongue, as far as philosophy is concerned, is the language of the phenomenologists. These only too few texts give us a glimpse of the mind and thought of Edith Stein. They hint at the way in which she strove to attain union with God through books and without alienating herself from her fellowmen. Any who is familiar with the work and life of Edith Stein knows that the application of these principles was not always easy: Edith Stein willed her way to holiness as a scholar; hers was no haphazard chance: she collaborated with divine grace with all the ardor of her semitic heart. EXISTENTIAL EXPERIENCE Nothing. happens by chance. Edith Stein contests the formula of Heidegger thrown into existence. In dense and direct sentences she attacks the weak spot of his ex-istentialist philosophy, she attacks the Geworfenheit: With this is expressed above all that man finds himself in existence, without knowing how he has come there . But with this the question of the "whence" has not been abolished. How-ever violently one may try to silence it or to forbid it as sense-less, it always rises again irresistibly from the peculiarity of hu-man being demanding a Being that is both the foundation of the former and its own foundation, needing no other, demand-ing the One who throws that which is "thrown." And with this the "being thrown" is revealed as creatureliness. In this text Edith Stein reveals herself to be truly a humanist: she has a keen and penetrating vision of the human situation. She writes with even greater acuity: The nothingness and transitoriness of its own being becomes clear to the Ego, if it takes possession of its own being by thought . It also touches it. through fear (Angst), which accompanies unredeemed man through life in many disguises ¯. but in the last resort as fear of his own non-being . How-ever, fear is not normally the dominant sensation (Lebensge- [iihl). This it becomes in cases which we describe as pathologi-cal; but normally we walk in great security as if our being was a certain possession . The reflecting analysis of our being by thought shows how little cause for such security there is in itself., the undeniable fact that my being is transitory., and exposed to the possibility of non-being is matched by the other, equally undeniable fact that, notwithstanding this transitoriness, I am and am kept in being from one moment to the other, and embrace a lasting Being in my transitory be-ing. I know myself held, and in this I have peace and se-curity- not the self-assured security of a man who stands in his own strength on firm ground, but the sweet and blissful se-curity of the child which is carried by a strong arm-~considered objectively, a no less reasonable security . Hence in my being I meet another, which is not mine, but is support and ground of my unsupported and groundless being. The dispositions of the unified soul of Edith Stein are revealed in the text we have just read where we notice the words "great security," "peace and security," "sweet and blissful security." The reason for this happy state does not lie in the Ego, but in the lasting Being whom we encounter when we enter deeply into ourselves. It is this encounter in man of God and man which should be the objective of every Christian scholar today, as in the Middle Ages. How can we come to recognize the supreme Being, He who is, in our own finite being? By reasoning or by faith: the latter was the way of the medieval monks; it was the way, too, of Edith Stein: The security of being, which I sense in my transitory being, points to an immediate anchoring in the last support and ground of my being . This is, indeed, only a very dark sensing, which one can hardly call knowledge . This dark sensing gives us the Incomprehensible One as the inescapably near One, in whom we "live and move and have our being," yet as the Incomprehensible One. Syllogistic thinking formu-lates exact notions, yet even they are incapable of apprehend-ing Him who cannot be apprehended; they rather place Him at ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture VOLUME 30, 1971 a distance, as happens with everything notional. The way of faith gives us more than the way of philosophical knowledge: it gives us the God of personal nearness, the loving and merci-ful One, and a certainty such as no natural knowledge can give. Yet even the way of faith is a dark way. This text shows how very close she was to her own age; she proves here that she allied the heritage of ancient masters with the modern mentality, more intuitive than that of Ancient Greece: the intelligence of Edith Stein was semitic, Biblical and it is this Biblical essence which makes her to be kith and kin with Medieval monastic humanists and scholars. THE SCHOLARLY NUN But there is more than a certain way of apprehending God which links Edith Stein to the monastic thinkers of the Middle Ages. Like them she renounced the secular seats of learning to give herself to God as a nun in a Carmelite convent. At first she gave herself entirely to the humble duties of a beginner in the monastic life; but later on, at the request of her superiors, she began to write and study again. One of her two works concerning mysticism has a very telling title: Kreuzeswissenschaft (Science of the Cross). It was written for the fourth centenary of the birth of St. John of the Cross, and in it we discern the insuffi-ciency of pure philosophical thinking for tackling prob-lems of mystical theology. There, too, we recognize Edith Stein--now Sister Benedicta of the Cross--the philoso-pher whose thought was always structured and subtended by rigorous methodological principles indicative of a dis-ciplined mind. A passage from the preface to Science o[ the Cross reveals this: In the following pages the attempt has been made to grasp John of the Cross from the unity of his being, as it is expressed ~n his life and in his works, from a point of view that makes it possible to envisage this unity . What is said there on the ego, freedom and person, is not derived from the writings of our holy Father John. Though certain points of contact may be found, such theories were remote not only from his leading intention but from his mode of thought. For only modern philosophy has set itself the task of working out a philosophy of the person such as has been suggested in the passages just mentioned. ÷ Once more we recognize the unifying [actor which was + characteristic of her own life; unity of being. And this + leads us to the last dilemma which we wish to mention. $ean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 176 4. Harmony between Personal Experience and Serv-ice The question set here is how to share with others what we ourselves may have received in prayer: how may we legitimately share with Others our own personal experi-ence of God who reveals Himself to mankind? Divine revelation needs to be grasped by the human reason en-lightened by faith. It is faith alone that allows us to suck the honey out of the hard rock of the Scriptures. Learning is a help to deciphei'ing the letters, bfit the real key to Scriptural exegesis is faith contained in a pure heart--blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God. But the talent received must not be buried, it must be shared with others. Edith Stein writes: It may also happen that a sort of "office of the keys" is conferred on individuals or groups which have received the gift of Scriptural exegesis . To these spirits is given the office to transmit the light they receive . It is their duty to accept the Divine mysteries. . with. a purified mind .and to take charge of them. Th~s also ~mphes preaching and interpreting the Divine Word. Corresponding ~o the different modes and degrees of hiddenness, there are different modes and degrees of unveiling, degrees of office. Conclusion: The Science of the Cross There could be no better summary of all that has been said in this paper. At all periods, there is only one Chris-tian humanism, one Christian way of uniting love of learning with desire for God: the way of the cross, the narrow door of self-denial, the existential imitation of Jesus Christ, God made Man. When a scholar converts to God, dedicates his whole mind and heart to God in the carrying out of his professional duties of study or teaching, then, and only then, will he be a light shining in the darkness. Edith Stein tells us what she means by sicence of the cross: If we speak of the Science of the Cross, this is not to be understood as science in the ordinary sense: it is no mere theory . It is indeed known truth--a theology of the Cross~ but it is living, actual and active (wirkliche und wirksarne) truth: it is placed in the soul like a seed, takes root in her and grows, gives the soul a certain character and forms her in all she does or leaves undone, so that through this she herself shines forth and is recognized . From this form and force living in the depth of the soul is nourished the philosophy of this man and me way in which God and the world present themselves to him. For Edith Stein, as for every great and holy scholar throughout the ages, faith in God and His mystery are primordial: Where there is truly living faith, there the doctrines of the faith and the great deeds of God are the content of life, every-thing else must take second place and is formed by them. This is holy objectivity (heilige Sachlichkeit): the original interior receptivity of the soul reborn of the Holy Ghost. Whatever is brought to her, this she accepts in the proper way and depth; and it finds in her a living, mobile power ready to let itself be ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture VOLUME -~0, 1971 177 formed, and unhampered by false inhibitions and rigidity . If the mystery of the Cross becomes her inner form, then it becomes the science of the Cross. This science is a night, an absence: if we accept to believe in the divine Crucified then our language is silence for "All speaking about God presupposes God's speaking. His most real speaking is that before which human speech is silenced." ÷ ÷ + lean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 178 MARY-ANGELA HARPER A Layman's Response to Contemporary Religious While post-Vatican II laymen bustle about the business of shaping their new, enlarged role in the contemporary Church, many members of another segment of the People of God, the consecrated religious, without much notice from their lay brothers, are quietlyteari'ng themselves to shreds by agonizing selbcriticism. The general cause of this self-destruction seems to be a fear that traditional religious life is anachronistic both in form and purpose. The only hope for survival, these religious have decided, is radical change. To the laity, this "change" has meant new habits and new names and more frequent socializing. For the reli-gious, the speci.fics of change fall into one of two categor-ies: (a) concern with structures and relationships within the community and (b) concern with the function of reli-gious within the Christian community-at-large. On the one hand, therefore, religious .struggle with such questions as size and government, and with legisla-tion pertaining to prayer, work, recreation, and dress. And they scrutinize themselves as individuals to verify their personal authenticity. The criteria for this verifica-tion are contemporary philosophical and psychological definitions of man which emphasize the affective dimen-sion and the primacy of interpersonal relationships in meaningful human development. On the other hand, religious seek to identify the shape and character of their activities in a newly-valued, post-conciliar world that contemporary theologians recognize as not only redeemed but continually sanctified by Christ who abides within it. A genuine Christian mission, they believe, must be one of real involvement with the nuts and bolts of everyday living and a rubbing of shoulders with lay co-workers in the apostolic field that is the world. To be Christian missionaries, then, religious cannot ÷ ÷ Mary Angela Harper is chairman of the philosophy department; Dun-barton College o[ Holy Cross; Wash-ington, D.C. 20008. VOLUME ~0, 1971 179 4" M. A. Harper REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]80 live a less-than-human existence, above and apart from the rest of men. They must purge religious life of any alienating, stereotyped, and distorted image and of out-moded, restrictive characteristics such as traditional vows and lockstep community exercises. These must be re-placed by a new and more democratic concept of reli-gious community which allows each individual to de-velop his own capacities in freedom and love and by new forms of religious activity that permit creativity, sponta-neity, affectivity, and the celebration of a redeemed hu-manity. And all of this is taking place ~vith relatively little public notice or comment from the lay element of the People of God, for whose sake religious toil, and whose acceptance they seek. But more interestingly, these con-siderations, critical as they have been to religious, are of little pressing concern even to the better informed lay-men, who nnderstand and sympathize with the crisis in religious life. As laymen see it, the effectiveness (and, therefore, justification) of consecrated commitment de-pends not upon what religious wear, or what they are called, or on how they organize their daily lives. The layman primitively and primarily cares that religious con-tinue to achieve their unique, specific and indispensable mission--to point to God. Now surely it is presumptuous, if not absurd, for any-one to assume the position of spokesman for the laity-at-large. Every layman responds to the world and to people and to situations differently, depending upon the varia-ble factors of education, spiritual formation, and per-sonal experience. My own response to contemporary reli-gious is indeed conditioned by each of these factors. But it is also and especially determined by a specific view of our post-Vatican II world. The first statement pertaining to this contemporary Christian Weltanschauung main-tains that existence today is an organic, interpersonal complex, in which all individuals, loyal to their unique identities, nonetheless recognize that the perfection of this identity takes place in a process of completion by others. It is with others that each individual achieves his own identity, and together, by mutual interaction, that all attain the perfection of the whole that is our world. This is the characteristic of complementarity. But equally important is the correlative principle which maintains that this organic, interpersonal universe is sustained and vivified by belief in Christ who is God and in a divine kingdom in which humanity will be absolutely perfected. Authentic existence in the real world of today, then, is a life predicated upon interper-sonal cooperation, but simultaneously upon co-commun-ion in Christ as a pledge of the Parousia. All the People of God are bound together by a recognition of the neces-sity of others, which is reinforced and transfused by Christian love--the giving of the self to achieve the oth-er's perfection in Christ. And each thus con.tributes to the integral and absolute perfection of all in the kingdom of God. Now, if this "new look" of a nearly 21st century world turns on such an enlarged principle of complementarity, and if a meaningfully contemporary Christian world is a complex of Christ-loving, kingdom-seeking, mutually per-fecting human spirits, then distinction and difference is as significant as unanimity and wholeness, because with-out these characteristics, we might achieve fusion, but never complementation. Moreover, a lack of unique perfection in any individ-ual component in this interconnected, organic complex, is a loss, not only to the totum, but to all others as individuals. This was the message of Henri de Lubac ten years ago when he wrote of the Church as the "corporate destiny of mankind," and explained that "in the measure of [each one's] strength and according to his own voca-tion- for the gifts of the one spirit differ, and in the unity of one same body, each member has a different function--leach] will labour heart and soul to achieve it. If he fails fall] will feel it as a wound in [their] own flesh." 1 The uniqueness of the individual contribution gives a specific character to the whole Christian commu-nity which cannot be replaced by another. And the perfection of one is the perfection of all. And this is the message today when we use the term witness to identify the Christian mission in a post-Coun-cil world. William J. Richardson, S. J., has analyzed the contemporary notion of witness~ and notes that it "in-volves a double communion--communion, between the witness and the truth, or person to which/whom he testi-fies; [and also] a communion . between the truth/per-son and the tribunal or persons before whom the witness testifies." This double communion is suggested by the formulae being witness and bearing witness. To be a witness, Father Richardson says, is to be so identified with a person or truth that to deny these would be to deny oneself. Moreover, "the quality of witness will be measured by the intimacy of the union between the witness and the one to whom he testifies, the extent to which they become one." To bear witness is to share this person with other per- ¯ Henri de Lubac, S.J., Catholicism (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1958), p. 31. 2William J. Richardson, S.J., The University and the Formation of the Christian, an unpublished manuscript, copyrighted by the author, 1958. ÷ ÷ Layman's Response to Religious VOLUME 30, 1971 18! ÷ M. A. Harper REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 182 sons. And the result of the sharing is that the witness thereby grows more deeply in the communion himself because, within an interacting complex, he now contacts this reality through the communion of others which was heretofore denied him. All witnesses, therefore, enrich one another within the organic whole that is the testify-ing community, and achieve growth and perfection by an interpenetrating exchange of individual identity and meaning. Should the uniqueness of the individual be less-ened or lost, however, the totum would suffer irreparably. In terms of witness, this presence, this communication of meaning would be denied to the Christian community, which becomes radically impoverished. Now, what is the witness of consecrated religious? What do these men and women offer the Christian community and to each individual within it that is unique and indis-pensable, and without which each of us would suffer? Consecrated religious are witnesses, par excellence, to the Pilgrim Church, and to the truth that the Christian com-munity is, in fact, on its way to Almighty God. As Sidney Callahan has observed in Beyond Birth Con-trol, 3 present existence is 9ctually a life of incomplete-ness; perfection and completed history await the Parou-sia. "Those who choose [consecrated religious lives]", she says, "live the sign of incompleteness, of fulfillment to come, of aspiration to a more complete community and pe.rfect unity." By our own distinctive form of existence, we, the laity, witness to a restored creation which James O'Reilly ex-plains in "Lay and Religious States" 4 reveals "the power and goodness of business, marriage ~nd freedom [to] carry us toward the kingdom." By virtue of their distinc-tive state of life, consecrated religious witness to "the limited character of the goodness of property, of spouse [and] of liberty." ~ They give witness to the truth that although possessions and ownership, marital love and total psycho-physical unity, unlimited movement and op-portunity, are good, God is still better. No matter how intrinsically valuable these considerations may be, they do not suffice of themselves to bring human existence to completion and perfection. This can only be achieved by our releasing control and, in Father O'Reilly's words, letting the world "slip into the hands of God," 6 who saves and completes and perfects. Consecrated religious help us laymen to loosen our hold and to let go. 8Sidney Cornelia Callahan, Beyond Birth Control (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1968), p. 80. ~James O'Reilly, "Lay and Religious States," REviEw fOR REU-GiOOS, v. 27 (1968), pp. 1027-52. Ibid., p. 1051. Ibid. Such a minor miracle is wrought by their reminder to us of our need to be pilgrims. And this they effect by their public vow of total commitment to a communal life manifestly lived in poverty, celibacy, and obedience (or whatever language they choose to signify these realities), which reinforce in us the truth that one gain~ by giving. We, who behold such a commitment, and recognize it as the foundation of all human religious development--and who may even be living these values, though in a less concentrated, less explicit form--we look to religious for inspiration and for guidance. And by their spirit of sim-ple frugality, availability, and openness, they sustain us in our efforts to rightfully enrich this world, and to de-velop and fulfill our human personalities, but with hearts turned heavenward. To this end, religious provide us with a working model of persons-in-c~ommunity and of a united humanity. In the day-to-day liv.ing of this value, they confront us with the actual experience of availability and generosity which reminds us of our need for others, and of our obligation to care and to spend ourselves for one another. By their refusal to seek perfection in isolation, manifesting instead responsibility for others within (and beyond) their com-munity, they instruct us that the meaning of authentic human freedom involves limitation and amounts to de-termined- indetermination. And by refusing to choose those with whom they live on the basis of common inter-ests or congeniality, they instruct us that the comm~unity of man must be a gathering together, not for personal gratification, but rather to share and reenforce one an-other in the love of God. Consecrated religious help us to reconcile apparent conflicts between the human and the divine by their pure, simple, and direct vision, which embraces both man and God in a single gaze. And by their evident spirit of prayer, they redirect our consciousness, not exclusively outward to legitimate worldly cqncerns, but inward to the center of our being, where we contact ourselves most truly, and discover here that our own meaning is rooted in a divine source. And they bring us a joy that seems to us to shine forth from the wellsprings of their personal communion with the divine; and we warm ourselves in its brightness, and feel it, somehow, transform us. Nor are these merely psychological phenomena, wrapped around us like a security blanket. We are, I think, well adjusted, often well educated laymen, quite convinced of our dignity as laymen. We are not having an identity crisis. In fact, quite to the contrary, we have discovered ourselves, and the significance of our roles as mature Christians, for the first time in history. But we also believe in the necessity and intrinsic value of a reli-÷ ÷ ÷ Layman's Response to Religious VOLUME 30, 1971 183 + + 4. M. A. Harper REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]84 gious liIe o[ total commitment to God. We acknowledge the indispensable contribution it makes to the Christian community and sincerely belie;ce that this contribution depends upon the preservation of its unique sign-value. Moreover, we hope that it will be meaningfully and truly implemented. Such "true" implementation, in the mind of the lay-men, involves certain conditions, however. First of all, the laity expect religious to be honestly poor. Such pov-erty the layman does not confuse with destitution, but rather understands as involving what the Duquesne Uni-versity Institute of Man program refers to as a "respectful use and celebration of things natural and cultural as gifts of the holy." We appreciate the fact that books, facilities, time, and recreational opportunities are necessary for the religious to function professionally. But we also expect evidence of what Ladislas M. Orsy, S. J. calls "the effica-cious desire to give away [everything] in the name of God's kingdom." 7 All this world's bounty,, therefore, could be employed naturally, intelligently, and happily, but with the evident and effective intention of always viewing the acquisition and use of created goods (including the self) in the con-text of community. Moreover, this intention would em-brace a life-style modeled on that of Christ Himself, whose life was one of frugal simplicity, of reverence for creation, and of availability to all men. Secondly, the laity respond appreciatively to the celi-bate state when it is conceived (to borrow again from the Institute of Man) as involving a "respectful love of self and others as uniquely called and graced by the Sacred." Such love would seek to establish r.elationships of friend-ship with fellow religious and laity, and these would be humanly warm and expressive and unstrained by old fears of compromise and contamination by sexual compli-cations- phobias that have happily been laid to rest.It would presuppose a genuine rejoicing in the goodness of the lay role and the married state and preclude an artifi-cial hierarchical understanding of vocations or distorting comparison of functions based on measures of perfection. And, of course, it would thoroughly dispose of any "mys-tique" of religious life. Celibate love knows that each state of life is necessary to the other, and that each develops in perfection and grace in terms of its counterpart.8 It understands that re-ligious and laity must be wholly open to one another as persons in our contemporary Christian world, because 7 Ladislas M. Orsy, S.J., "Poverty in the Religious Life," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 26 (1967), pp. 60--82. sSee David B. Burrel], C.S.C., "Complementarity," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 26 (1967), pp. 149-60, for a discussion of this point. this is the sine qua non of both human friendship and Christian love. To this end, it welcomes opportunities to join the laity in their homes for occasions of social sig-nificance, and also cordially unlocks the cloister doors so that laymen may breathe of the spirit that uniquely dwells there. But in all these interpersonal relationships, the laymen expects that celibate love will be permeated and directed by a necessary wisdom which is sensitive to the priority of God's relationship to each soul, and efficaciously con-cerned not to frustrate God's plan for it. Thirdly, laymen expect religious, whether they be "subordinates" or "superiors" (or whatever new titles they use) to live a life of genuine obedience. Such a life is nurtured and guided by a r~spectful alertness to what the Institute of Man calls "the dynamics of the life situation as a temporal and local manifestation of God." This means that all elements of a religious community must be finely tuned-in to the real and concrete and changing needs of the world and the Church. It means, in fact, redefining obedience as the act of listening--listening to the will of almighty God making itself explicit through the Scriptures, indeed, but also through the events of the world, the activities of daily living, and through personal contacts with us laymen. In the light of this concept of obedience as listening, the specific authority structures of a religious community seem to us relatively unimportant. What matters is that all members, including "superiors" (and presumably there will always be someone who formally accepts re-sponsibility for the community), to appreciate the neces-sity of others in the decision-making process. They must understand that this imperative follows from the incom-pleteness of any individual in value and operation, and from everyone's need for complementation and perfect-ing. Finally, but actually firstly, the laity expect consecrated religious to be men and women well versed in the art of prayer. We have observed that their prayer life produces an intimacy .with almighty God that penetrates their whole being; and we have often experienced the truth that contact with them is a happy, homely contact with the Divine. Somehow, laymen find it difficult to speak easily or publicly with loving familiarity of God, and tend to tuck Him away for private moments. Yet our hearts respond with almost childlike delight when reli-gious women and men effect His presence in our midst by their relaxed reference to the divine Person who is their friend. But His presentation must also be honest. He must be there as the genuine beloved, or the introduction will .generate resentment and distrust and even, some-÷ ÷ + Layman's Response to Religi'ous VOLUME ~0, 1971 ÷ ÷ M. A. Ha~per times, contempt. And, of course, regular, vital, personal prayer makes the difference--prayer for which action is no substitute. But laymen do expect religious to be action people as well. They expect to find religious present in all situa-tions of want, be these physical poverty, or infirmity, or social injustice, and to support the laity in their human commitment to one another. Moreover, we welcome them to work alongside us in our professions, which we hope and anticipate they will competently enrich by their unique intimacy with and witness tQ. Christ. In all these activities, however, we ask the consecrated religious not to blur their identity with ours. Such blur-ring does not necessarily take place by their choosing ordinary lay clothing instead of traditional habits, though many laymen appreciate some sort of identifiable although contemporary dress or insignia for professional or public appearances, and the reserving of anonymity for private occasions. More to the point is the signaling of God's kingdom mentioned before--the "pilgrim witness" which per-meates the entire personality of the consecrated religious. In the rhythmic, interpenetrating flow of action between the human and the divine in all Christian lives, the lay-man publishes and protects the human. But it is the consecrated religious who points to the divine, and who must give this sign the highest visibility. In days gone by, such visibility was carefully prescribed by rules which governed all aspects of religious life, in-cluding prayer, dress, and general decorum. Today it is a matter of individual responsibility, and each religious must seek ways to radiate God in his own life, and by his own style--a difficult project, indeed, with the old guide-lines gone, and none very clear or precise to take their place. No wonder there have been dark moments of con-fusion, insecurity, and doubts. And the worst may be yet to come as religious-in-transition continue to probe and test their inspirations. During all their struggles, however, we laymen want religious to trust and draw strength from our loyalty and devotion, and from our great confidence that religious will solve their problems and, in their own proper way, continue to mature in Christ. But, most importantly, on every occasion of solicited or unsolicited criticism from us post-Council laymen, we want religious to understand and believe how humanly and eschatalogically, but uniquely, we need them! REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 186 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY, O.P. Toward an American Theology of Contemplation Introduction In* the process of renewal of religious life in the United States no question is more polarizing than the role of "contemplation" in religious life today. Some-how Americans have always had difficulty about this question. At the time of the confused "Americanism" controversy in the 1880's, among other errors supposed to be prevalent in the American Church Leo XIII con-demned the emphasis on the active rather khan the con-templative life.1 In a recent history of the Dominican fathers in the United States, The American Dominicans, Father Reginald Coffey has made very clear how the attempt to transplant the Dominican ideal of "contem-plata aliis tradere" ran into astonishing difficulties which have never been resolved after 170 years of earnest effort.2 What is true of the Dominicans. can be paralleled in most of the other" religious orders who came to this coun-try. We cannot ignore this experience, nor assume that the difficulty has arisen because we just have not tried hard enough. Perhaps the reason is that we have been trying to do the impossible and have not had the intellectual courage to think the whole matter through to a better and more practical solution. We have tried to import into American culture a mode of the awareness of God * This article is based on a talk originally given to a meeting of the Dominican Education Association in Atlantic City, April 2 1970. 1See T. T. McAvoy, C.S.C., The American Heresy in Roman Catholicism, 1895-1900 (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 196~). ~Reginald Coffey, O.P., The American Dominicans (New York: St. Martin de Porres Guild, 141 East 65th St., 1968). 4- Benedict Ashley, O.P., is a member of the Institute of Religion and Hu-man Development; Texas Medical Cen-ter; Houston, Texas 77025. VOLUME 30, 1971 187 B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 188 which arose in European culture and which can be achieved in our culture only with strain and artificiality. After all, God reveals Himself to men in the way that He chooses; and He ordinarily chooses a mode of revela-tion suited to their concrete experience and style of life. If contemplation is to be vital for us it must arise from a contact with God present in our world, not in the world of the 13th century, nor the 17th nor the 19th, nor in an artificial world created by a romantic love of the past. Just as we realize there is something decadent in building Gothic churches as if God could only be found in a particular style of architecture, so it is deca-dent to seek a form of prayer in a style of life that is only artificially re-created. We need to study our own culture and see whether in its system of values there is room for an authentic contemplative life. Pragmatism The United States of America as a people began with a theological conception of its mission. Our most influ-ential founders saw this country as a promised land, "the land of opportunity" in which God had given mankind a new chance to realize the kingdom of God, freed from the traditional compromises which the Church had made in Europe with tyrannical monarchies.3 This conception of mission was reenforced by the ac-tual experience of the pioneers in possessing the land, then of American government and business in applying scientific methods of organization and technology to the control of the environment and to the mass education and human development of the people. These experiences have given us a particular under-standing of what truth is. Our most dominant philosophy under thinkers like James, Peirce, and Dewey expresses this idea of truth as.pragmatic or instrumental. Some have understood this philosophy to mean that truth is valuable only as a practical instrument. A study of Dewey will show that this is a misunderstanding. Americans do not limit truth to the role of a mere tool of action, but what they say is that unless truth is effective, unless it leads to change, to growth, to progress, to the liberation of man, it cannot be genuine truth. It follows that the traditional Greek idea of "contem-plation" is very hard for an American to grasp. What do you contemplate? If it is the world or ourselves, then to know the world and ourselves is to see something that ~On the concept of an American theology see the symposium Projections: Shaping an American Theology [or the Future, ed. by Thomas F. O'Meara, O.P. (Garden City: Doubleday, 1970); and Herbert Richardson, Towards an American Theology (New York, 1967). needs to be improved and freed from its restrictions. If you say we contemplate God, then the American says: "Why should I look at God from a distance? If I really engage God as a person, then we must do something to-gether. Surely God is not idl~. To be with God is to engage with Him in His work, and His work is with His world and the people who are His people. We can understand working with someone, we can understand playing with someone, but just looking at some one. !" Tradition Americans experience the past as something foreign (Europe, Mexico, the Far East). As such it fascinates us, and the world is filled with American archaeologists and anthropologists and historical researchers digging into the past and the primitive. But the value, of the past for us is that it tells us "how far we have come" and encourages us to change even more. It does not set for us a norm or a stamp of approval on what we are now doing. In fact, we are inclined to be uneasy if we realize that we are still doing what men found useful in the past. If it was useful then, surely it can be only a hindrance now when we live in such a different age. When we do admire something traditional it is precisely b~cause it is still a success. We marvel that its originators could have been so foresighted, but there must be experiential proof that it still works. From this point of view a young American religious can admire the founder of his order for being so "mod-ern" in the sense that for his times he was forward-look-ing. But the reason, above all, that our vocations are few and that so many younger people leave is that it appears to them that the religious orders are not preparing for the future. To speak to persons of this mentality about the "nnchanging essentials" of religious life. and its time-tested means of silence, cloister, Office, and study that have produced so many saints in the past, is precisely to confirm their greatest fear that their order lives in the past. A young Dominican I know once said: "Our Order is no longer the Order of Trutk, since if it possessed the Truth it would be changing to meet the future. Truth is the capacity to change for the future." Thus, if contemplation is a call to withdraw into the silence of the cloister, to spend much of the day in the chapel at Office or in the library studying the documents of the past in order to occasionally preach a sermon or deliver a lecture, it is not easy to see how this fidelity to the "tried and true" methods of tradition is anything but a "cop-out" from problems of the present. It is worse than taking drugs, because the use of drugs is turning people on to new experiences, while the old monastic ÷ ÷ ÷ Contemplation VOLUME 30~ 1971 189 B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS methods seem in actual fact to close people up in stale routines. Prophecy There is a kind of divine truth which the American mind can appreciate, the truth of prophecy. Authentic prophecy, in Biblical terms, is an interpretation and criticism of the present, which also has the effective power to produce the future. It is a call to man to act in co-operation with God, and it announces the doom of him who hesitate~. It is a pragmatic truth in the deepest sense. Writers on contemplation generally emphasize that it is a receptivity or openness to transcendent reality. With-out this receptivity human activity becomes feverish, shallow, and ineffective. I think Americans respond with real understanding to this concept of openness. It is no accident that our country has produced in the psychiatrist' Carl Rogers a remarkable exponent of the "art of listen-ing" who has shown that the basis of all human life is the capacity to be really open to the communication of another person, a communication deeper than mere words.4 But notice the great difference between the American idea of openness and receptivity and that of the monastic tradition as we have ordinarily tried to live it. To be open in the American sense one has to be in the midst of the world and of persons, in the situations where peo-ple are interacting and where God is bringing people together. The monastery seems ideally designed to close people off from one another, and hence to God. What the American tends to see in the monastic tradi-tion is essentially a dualism. There is a dualism of the body and the mind, of matter and spirit, of the world and the cloister, the secular and the sacred, the active and the contemplative. What he protests against is not the mind, the spirit, the cloister, the sacred, or contem-plation, but a tradition which seems to force us to di-chotomize these and to prefer one to the other, or even to make one the basis of the other. The American be-lieves that there must be a contemplative, receptive ele-ment in communication but it is part of a rhythm of action and reception, of interaction. It makes no sense, therefore, to argue that "we contemplate in order to give to others." The giving and receiving are joined in a single activity. We are learning about reality as we act to change it or to communicate with it. *Carl R. Rogers, On Becoming a Person (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1961), Chapter 1: "This Is Me." Criticism I think I have said enough to show why the.terms in which traditional books discuss the problem of contem-plation make little sense to young Americans and, I would think, to young Europeans also, because in this the American style of thought has taken a lead throughout the world. It is not true, however, that Americans accept this pragmatic attitude without criticism. To see the need of prophecy as a criticism of our times entails also an attitude of self-criticism. In this the American fondness for depth-psychology, "group dynamics," and "sensitivity training" is characteristic. Americans are seeking a pecu-liar mode of asceticism which involves an exposure of hidden motives to the scrutiny of others. The American is haunted by the fear that he cannot change, that he cannot grow because of fixations, because of blindness and illusion. He is anxious, therefore, to uncover in himself the obstacles to growth. At the present Americans are engaged in-deep self-criticism. We realize that in one sense and paradoxically we are the most conservative country in the developed World. The rapidity of change in the United States has driven the "silent majority" of our people into a defen-sive position. The silent majority (if it is that) iti our religious convents is only a reflection of that frightened conservatism which pervades the whole of American so-ciety. This has produced an atmosphere which is near panic and despair. Americans are deeply frightened that at this moment when we feel so desperately the need to meet the future we will be unable to do so, that we are already locked int6 structures (which we ourselves built) and which we cannot dismantle rapidly enough. The racial problem or the poverty problem in the United States is typical. All of us, even the most conservative really admit that racial discrimination and poverty must go; but we are afraid that the strains of accomplishing this will be more [han we as a society can undertake in a short time, and that tomorrow it will be too late. This self-criticism is, therefore, terribly urgent for the American, and it must be radical. It cannot simply be a matter ~f "adaptation," nor can it be a matter of changing the "accidentals" and retaining the "essentials." We do not think in those terms. What we need, we think, is a new model. It may retain many features of the old, but it must constitute somehow a new response to the future. This entails the serious consideration of whether we should retain the traditional forms of religious life or whether it is necessary to begin new ones. This does not entail, please, notice, that Americans ÷ ÷ ÷ Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 191 ÷ + ÷ B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS a priori want new and American forms of religious life. Our pragmatism is deeper than that. We are perfectly ready to keep the existing orders if they are el~ective, but not otherwise. Inherent in this self-criticism is also the growing reali-zation that American culture is itself quite sick, and that one of its deep sicknesses is activism. Throughout Amer-ican culture in the most unlikely places there is a strong reaction against pragmatism cbnceived as a religion of success and material productivity. These are seen as de-humanizing, as reducing man to a servant of the ma-chine, of things. Thus American pragmatism is taking a new and purified form. It is still a conviction that truth must be effective, but the effect sought is not material; it is rather to be judged in terms of "the quality of life," a widened and deepened experience, a more intimate communication with other persons, a freer realization of man's creative potential. Experimentalism The outcome of this is that young Americans are looking hopefully to pluralism and experimentalism. Theologically this is understood by many young Catho-olics as the liberating work of the Holy Spirit who dis-tributes His diverse gifts to individuals and groups. In religious life this means a diversity of "life-styles" and apostolates. The danger here, of course, is that the unity of a religious community will be completely disrupted. Sociologists are among the first to warn us that the weak-ening structures and symbols of group unity may render a community completely dysfunctional. However, the advocates of this pluralism and experi-mentalism join it with an insistence on communica-tion, evaluation, feed-back: They do not propose a proc-ess of splintering, but rather a rhythm of changing life in which forms are developed through an interchange of experiences and ideas, and then constantly revised in view of ongoing experience and new ideas. In such a conception it becomes hopeless to talk about "essentials" and "adaptations," and the discussion rather takes the form of talking about "the enrichment of values." The Basic Question Perhaps nothing is more crucial in "this question than the diagnosis which each side makes of the "signs of our times." A recent writer on the renewal of religious life, while conceding many pgsitive aspects to the present sit-uation, singles out as our deepest sickness our secularism, and "insensitivity to the transcendent." ~ This means that for him God is primarily the transcendent, and that He is to be found, therefore, by the various monastic tech-niques by which a man turns away from the noise of the world to the silence beyond the world. This, however, is the very point in question. Is God to be known primarily as "the transcendent?" He may have revealed himself in the monastic period" of the Church primarily in that way, and through the practices of silent and cloistered meditation. But is this the way that He has willed to reveal Himself today? After all, to accept an historical view of revelation as most theologians do today, also entails the conviction that God reveals Him-self to men historically in a way specific to the time. Our problem becomes, therefore, to search for God to-day where He reveals Himself and according to the man-ner in which He, as Lord of History, dictates, not ac-cording to some tradition, however venerable. Our younger people have the conviction that somehow this point of revelation is precisely in the secular, in the pov-erty and the need of our world. This need felt by the world is not an explicit religious need. Rather it is a simple human need of justice, of love, and of peace, but it is authentic need, and that is why God is to be found there. After all Jesus Himself said: "I was poor, hungry, ¯ naked, and in prison, and you did not visit me." ¯ Receptivity Are we then to lose ourselves in meeting the social problems of our time? Is there not a real danger that tak-ing the form of our life from the apostolate we will simply become humanitarian activists? We already see many who are leaving religious life to engage themselves as lay persons in the problems of the world and who in a short time seem to have lost all prophetic sense and simply to have succumbed to the dead routine of com-mercial society. How then can we develop a sincere re-ceptivity to the word of God? It appears incredible to our younger people that this is to be achieved by a return to "conventual life" in its monastic form. Nothing in their experience points this way. Nor do they see in us older religious very convincing proofs that this type of life has in fact made us receptive to what God is doing today. Rather they see that the conservative advocates of regular observance were and are closed to the work of the spirit which has manifested itself in Vatican II in a manner whose authenticity cannot be mistaken. ~Valentine Walgrave, O.P., Do~ninican Self-Appraisal in the Light of the Council (Chicago: Priory, 1968), pp. 112-20. ÷ ÷ + Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 193 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The first step, therefore, to a renewal of genuine re-ceptivity to the Spirit, to authentic contemplation, is an awakened sensitivity to the world's needs, to the 15resente of Jesus in the poor, the suffering, and the despairing. There is, however, a danger that concern for social ills will become a mere "cause," an abstract party ideology little concerned with real people, as Marxism has be-come. To be Christian this concern for the poor and re-ceptivity to their needs must be brought close to home and must become a receptivity to the persons in our daily lives. Hence, we cannot achieve a renewal of the contemplative spirit unless we begin with an increased sensitivity to the human needs of those around us, an openness to dialogue, a freedom of communication. This ability to hear others and to respond to them is hindered by our own lack of self-understanding, which al-lows barriers of communication to grow within us. In the past these walls against others have actually been reenforced by the conventual observances so that nnder the guise of seeking to be more receptive to God we have closed ourselves off to our neighbors. The parable of the Good Samaritan summarizes the tragic fact that religious purity can be an excuse for "passing by on the other side." This growth in self-understanding can, of course, lead to self-centeredness, just as the practice of meditation and examination of conscience sometimes did. The remedy for this excessive subjectivity is study. Books cannot sub-stitute for experience, but experience in interpersonal re-lations does not necessarily produce deeper insight unless it is accompanied by study. If we are to be prophetic men and women we must make use of all the knowledge ¯ ~hich modern science furnishes to help us understand man and his condition; and we must push this explora-tion to its philosophical and theological depths. Perhaps our greatest danger at the moment is to settle for a psy-chological view of man which is positivistic in character and which does not push behind positivist assumptions to the basic problems of human existence. When we speak of study, however, it cannot be a study of texts. In America today, more and more the advance of learning is pulling itself free from the printed page and is becoming a matter of the laboratory, the clinic, the symposium, the workshop. A group of men and women, therefore, who are to be a community of study today will not look like a monastic library or scriptorium; but it will be in constant contact with the gathering of empirical data and the debating of theoretical hypotheses. Because in our times a prophet must also be deeply involved in professional life, he can become overly cere-bral, a human computer. He must fight free of getting trapped in the narrow world of scientic and technological rationalism. If religious life is to foster a prophetic open-ness to reality, it must not reduce our energies to the lim-its of efficient work and productive routine. The esthetic, creative, and spiritual components of human personality must be awakened and developed. The dualism which infected Christian asceticism in the past often led to an atmosphere in which we became closed to all reality which threatened the arousal of our emotions. A certain type of Thomism closed us up in a tight world of defini-tions and classifications that excluded much of God's world of beauty, mystery, and experiential insight. If we are to be open to the prophetic Spirit we must make place in our lives for genuine celebration, the praise of God in His world. The Divine Office originated in such a spirit of praise, but that does not mean that it is today a genuine celebration. Nor are we sure that it can be. In any case we have the obligation to find a way to celebrate our community life in God if we are to be a prophetic community. American life today in a country that possesses half of the world's wealth is clear proof that our riches, which could be the solution to world poverty, are the chief cause of our apathy to poverty. This is true also of our search for security in sex and family, in personal au-tonomy and professional competence. We cannot criti-cize this idolatrous American search for security if our conventual life is itself aimed at security. Thank God, we are becoming insecure! Our decline in vocations is forcing us to liquidate our property and to face a doubt-ful future. We are frightened by the decline in apprecia-tion for celibacy. Is not this the payment for our lack of poverty? If we have a genuine eschatological sense of the urgency of the world's problems--if we were expect-ing to go to jail soon for our share in the revolution-- then celibacy would become very logical. This is true also of obedience. Obedience makes-sense when it is a response to a leadership ready to risk all. American Monasticism Does all this mean that there is no place in American culture for monks or nuns devoted to the contemplative life without an exterior apostolate? The life of Thomas Merton was a sign for us that such a conclusion would be too hasty.0 Americans dislike the ancient dualism be-tween contemplation and action, but they do understand the principle of specialization. If contemplation as a ~ Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (New. York: Herder and Herder, 1969). 4- 4- + Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 195 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 196 value is to be vigorous in American life it must have its specialists. We look to such specialists of contemplation, however, for a pragmatic demonstration that is convincing to our times. Merton provided such a test by showing that his life in the hermitage had made him more sensitive to the problems and opportunities of our times than most of us in active life. If the cloister is to draw young Americans, it should not offer them a retreat from the world, but a place to confront the issues of our time in an intense encounter where every illusion is stripped away. Most of us see our times through the TV screen carefully in-terlaced with commercials whose message is middle-class complacency. If we are to have cloisters, they must be places in which contemplatives look reality square in the face. Far from destroying the monastic tradition this would be a return to its original inspiration which, according to Father Bouyer, was not to escape the world and its evils but to confront them in the desert of unflinching truth, like Jesus "who was led into the desert by the Spirit to be tried by the devil." 7 This requires a rethinking of the traditional monastic means of silence, choral prayer, discipline, and the clois-ter so as to make these truly effective means to a profound self-knowledge, a knowledge of ourselves not cut off from the world, but as responsible for it. It means too that the insight achieved must be shared with others by modes of communication that are effective in our society, and it is here that the deep American interest in com-munications verbal and non-verbal must come into play. The Active Religious Communities Those religious communities dedicated to an active exterior apostolate, if they are to root that apostolate in the authentic receptivity of spirit required to hear the word of God calling to us from crisis situations, need to get to work on the following objectives: 1. Our first objective must be to locate and operate our communities in situations where we will be forced to confront the problems of our time. We must seek a form of life which does not permit us to protect our-selves by false securities from the urgency of the situa-tions which make a prophetic witness a constant demand upon us. Our obedience, chastity, and poverty must be-come functional because they are necessary for us in our r Louis Bouyer, The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers (New York: Descl~e, 1963), especially Chapter 13: "The Origins of Monasticism," pp. 300-3. state of emergency. Our security must be in faith and hope in God alone. 2. Our next objective should be to support each other in this common emergency through a community life that is based on a spirit of openness, receptivity/and di-alogue. A pluralism of life styles and points of view must be combined with a vigorous effort for greater unity .through experiment and dialogue. We must encourage the emergence of leadership, and we must foster the gifts of the Spirit in each member of the community. 3. We must break through the current tendency to faddism and a superficial copying of the techniques of scientific positivism to a deeper, prophetic understanding of man and his problems in the light of the Gospel. This demands that our communities be places of research and study where people of different experiences and compe-tencies can meet to raise penetrating questions and en-gage in mutual criticism of opinions. 4. In order to achieve this openness and to be able to meet the conflict involved in the clash of opinions and tendencies we must in our communities seek a profound purification of the spirit. We should not neglect the techniques provided by modern psychology'and sociology to help us overcome immature and prejudiced modes of thinking, feeling, and acting. Beyond this we must by a disciplined simplicity of life and by personal and com-munity prayer open the way to the action of God's grace. 5. We must find the courage for this renewal in a spirit of celebration of the presence of God in the world and in our community through liturgical prayer and through a genuine enjoyment of friendship in the com-munity and with those we serve. The Eucharist and the praise of God must become for us the fundamental life styIe which unites us in a pluralism of expression and activities. Some will ask: When in all this complex of activities will we come face to face with God, alone and in silence? Can there be genuine contemplation without this naked confrontation? There cannot be. But it is God Himself who calls us to face Him. If He does not call, then we cannot find Him. Therefore, the beginning of our contemplative re-newal must be to answer Him where and when He calls ÷ to us. It seems that today in the United States God is ÷ calling us not in a silent cloister, which is hardly to be + found, but in the situations of fear and doubt, in the desert of alienation, and at the gates of hope where Jesus stands side by side with suffering men and women. We must meet Him there with faith. It is my belief that a religious community which takes this step will be Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 197 more truly obedient, chaste, poor, charitable, studious, prayerful, receptive of God's word, and urgently driven to bring God's word to others in their need, than a com-munity which applies itself to some illusion of con-ventual observance. What then is my conclusion? Our American experience shows a great need today of a prophetic mission which will enable men to find God at work in the critical situations of our society. No doubt there is also need of men and women who so feel the urgency of this pro-phetic task, that they are willing to put aside economic, family, and individual securities, to work as a commu-- nity to help the larger community of the Church per-form this task better. Such a community cannot fulfill its prophetic mission unless it is deeply engaged in the world's problems, but it cannot be content to meet these problems superficially. It must penetrate them to the deepest level where God reveals Himself. This implies a search for God in our life together in tl~e world made ever more profound by study, dialogue, discipline, prayer, suffering, and celebration. ÷ ÷ ÷ B. M. AshleT, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 198 BERNARD VERKAMP Cultic Purity and the Law,of Celibacy The situation as a whole of the early Church, Jean Paul Audet has noted, was one of tremendous simpli-fication. 1 With this simplification came a general flexi-bility, which also found expression in the early structures of the Christian priesthood. Both in the service of the gospel and the ecclesia, the early Christians broke out of the fixed patterns of a sacral priesthood, and freely adopted whatever structures most suited their work." Thus, to come to the subject of our present concern, while some chose to leave their wives or husbands, others, the majority, continued to pursue their mission out of the context of a married and home life.s What is most sig-nificant, however, is that neither one nor the other style of life was thought to be, in itself, incompatible with service. Both were viable options. And such was to re-main the case throughout the first centuries of Christi-anity. In the year 305, however, nineteen bishops from differ-ent parts of Spain gathered at the Synod of Elvira and issued along with various other very stringent measures,4 the following canon touching upon the marital status of the clergy: Placuit in totum prohibere episcopis, presbyteris et diaconi-bus vel omnibus clericis positis in ministerio abstinere se a 1 j. p. Audet, Structures of Christian Priesthood, New York, 1968, p. 80. "~ Ibid., p. 79. ~ Ibid., p. 41. ~ Canon 13 states that a virgiu consecrated to God and committing a carnal sin could receive communion only at the end of her life and after perpetual penance. Bishops, priests, and deacons detected in fornication were, according to Canon 18, to be denied communion for the rest of their lives. And, according to Canon 71, pederasts were not to be admitted to communion even on their deathbeds (Hefele-Leclerq, Histoire des Conciles, Paris, 1907, 1.1, pp. 212-264). ÷ ÷ ÷ Father Bernard Verkamp, a doc-toral candidate in the St. Louis Uni-versity Divinity School, lives at 3658 West Pine Boulevard; St. Louis, Mo. 63108. VOLUME 30, 1971 199 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. Verkamp REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS '~00 conjugibus suis et non generare filios: quicumque vero [ecerit, ab honore clericatus exterminetur? While stating exactly the opposite, the synod appar-ently meant to forbid bishops, priests, and deacons from continuing sexual relations with their wives.~ Nothing is said about separation of the clerics from their wives; only that they may not relate sexually. There is no ques-tion here of the synod desiring to render the clergy more available for apostolic service. Rather is the prohibition clearly motivated by a concern for cultic purity. This conclusion is further supported by,the phrasing of the canon: ".vel omnibus clericis positis in ministerio." Were this phrase disjunctive, it might have been in-tended only to extend the prohibition to yet another class of clergy, namely, subdeacons. But, in all likelihood,; it is meant to be explicative--with "vel" meaning "id est" --so that the canon must read: "It pleases us to forbid absolutely bishops, priests, and deacons, that is, all clerics engaged in the service of the altarS., from relating sex-ually to their wives and having children." Combining as it does such a variety of elements, it is difficult to say exactly when and by whom this notion of cultic purity was first ushered into Christianity.° But "Canon 1, Hefele-Leclerq, pp. 238-239. " Literally, the canon forbids bishops, priests, and deacons to abstain from intercourse and not to have children. Such a prohibi-tion might have made sense some eighty years later in Spain when the Priscillian brand of Manichaeism was rampant, but not in the Spain of 305. The rigorist tone of all the other canons of this synod would suggest too that the synod did mean the exact opposite of what it actually declared. This conclusion is further supported by the fact that one of the prime agitators for legislation against clerical marriage at the Council of Nicea in 325 was the Spanish bishop Hosius (Hefele-Leclerq, p. 621). 7 See Martin Boelens, Die Klerikerehe in der Gesetzgebung der Kirche, Paderborn, 1968, p~ 39. s p. Harkx, The Fathers on Celibacy, Des Peres, 1968, p. 16, takes "positis in ministerio" to mean "appointed to orifice." But Audet, Structures, p. 13, notes that in the Christian Latin of the period, when referring to pastoral service, the ministerium was generally seen as a sacrum ministerium, that is, as a service of the altar. ~Certainly its introduction was aided to some extent by the disparagement of sex which, despite the Church's rejection of the encratic sects spawned by Gnosticism, began, as early as Athenagoras, to gain ground within Christian circles; see Athenagoras, Supplicatio pro Christi 33, PG 6, 965-967; Minutius Felix, Octavius 31, PL 3, 335-338; Tertullian, Ad Uxorem I, 3, PL 1, 1277-1279; Clement of Alexandria, Christ the Educator 11, "Fathers of the Church," v. 23, New York, 1954, pp. 169f; Sextus, Sentences 230-233, ed. H. Chad-wick, Cambridge, 1959, p. 39. The trend toward sacralization received a major stimulus from Cyprian in the 3rd century; see Letters 1 and 67, "Fathers of the Church," v. 51, Washington, 1964, pp. 3-5 and 232. From Cyprian onward the Old Testament example of the Aaronic priesthood and its laws of periodic continency (Lev 22:3; Lev 15:18; Ex 19:15; 1 Sam 21:5) were appealed to more and more frequently as a model for the Christian priesthood. once introduced, it quickly established itself and became during the next fifteen hundred years the predominant rationale behind the legislation of clerical c6ntinency.1° For more than two hundred years after Elvira, all the legislation regarding the marital status of the clergy in the Western Church11 was solely directed toward pro-hibiting sexual intercourse between the higher clergy and their wives. Not until the Synod of Gerona in 517 did the Spanish bishops require separation. And in other coun-tries such legislation came still later. This fact, in itself, would suggest that throughout those two hundred years clerical continency was motivated almost solely by a con-cern for cultic purity. What other evidence is available supports that conclusion. Outside of Elvira, there was almost no legislation re-garding clerical marriage in the Western Church during the first seventy years of the 4th century.12 But in the 1°This is not, of course, to imply any judgment about the rationale for the chastity of religious men or women during the same period. Our present concern is only with the legislation of clerical celibacy. For a discussion of celibacy in a broader context, J. M. Ford's, ,4 Trilogy on Wisdom and Celibacy, Notre Dame, 1967, is especially good. A recently published work by Roger Gryson, Les origines du cdlibat eccldsiastique du premier au septi~me siecle, Paris, 1970, may also prove helpful. 11 In the East, legislation in this regard took a somewhat different course. At the Synod of Ancyra in 314, it was ruled in canon 10 that any deacon declaring his intention to marry at the time of his appointment might marry even after his ordination and continue in his ministry (Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.I, pp. 312-313). Without such a prior declaration, however, he could not subsequently marry and still hope to exercise his office. Thus Ancyra already contained at least the germ of the practice eventually adopted by the Eastern Church at Trullo in 692, namely, marriage before but not after ordination. But for all these differences, the legislation in the East was really no less motivated by a desire for cultic purity than in the West, as we shall subsequently see in our discussion of the Synod of Trullo. That the notion of cultic purity was already prevalent in the East in the first half of the fourth century was exemplified by Eusebius of Caesarea when he wrote: "Verumtamen cos, qui sacrati sint, atque in Dei ministerio cultuque occupati, con-tinere deinceps seipsos a commercio uxoris decet" (Demonstrationis evangelicae I, IX, PG 22, 82). Likewise, the Synod of Laodicea, in 350, passed a number of measures which can only be understood within the context of cultic purity. Canon 21 decrees that sub-deacons shall not touch the sacred vessels; canon 44 bars women from approaching near the altar; according to canon 19 only clerics shall be permitted to approach the altar of sacrifice (Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.2, pp. 1010-'20). On the other hand, however, the Synod of Gangra in 345 sought to check the sectarian thrust of Eustathian asceticism by excommunicating anyone maintaining that when a married priest offers the sacrifice, no one should take part in the service; see canon 4, Hefele-Leclerq, p. 1034. ~2 p. Harkx, The Fathers on Celibacy, p. 17, states that the Synod of Aries (314) reiterated the decrees of Elvira. But, the six appended canons, upon which Harkx bases his conclusion, do not really belong to this synod, but must be ascribed rather to a decretal of Pope + + + Celibacy VOLOME ~0~ 1971 201 last quarter of that century, Popes Damasus I (366-384) and Siricius (384-399) were both very active in initiating a program of clerical continency. Several synods were held at Rome some time around 370, which, while indi-cating a preference for clerical candidates who were not married, nevertheless allowed that someone baptized as an adult and already married might also be ordained, as-suming that he had remained chaste and was a man of one wife ("unius uxoris vir").13 In a letter to the bishops of Gaul, Damasus relayed this and other decisions of the Roman synods along with a discttssion of the reasons for clerical continency.14 A variety of reasons are proffered,1~ but the central argument builds upon the notion of cultic purity.16 The very first synod held at Rome (384) under Pope Siricius, declared in its 9th canon that, because of their daily administration of the sacraments, priests and dea-cons should not have intercourse with their wives.17 In ÷ ÷ ÷ B. Verkarnls REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 202 Siricius: "Weil der Wortlaut dieses Kanons mit den cc. 4 trod 5 aus dem Brief des Papstes Siricius an die afrikanischen Bish6fe fast wortlich iibereinstimmt und wahrscheinlich von dort iibernommen worden ist" (Boelens, Die Klerikerehe, p. 28). The Council o[ Nicea (325) forbids any cleric to mutilate himself (c.1) and also prohibits the higher clergy from having the so-called "virgines subintroductae" in their houses (c.3). But its canons say nothing about clerical con-tinency (see Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.1, pp. 528-620). Apparently, some of the Council fathers had hoped to require continency of the clergy, but thanks to the saintly Egyptian bishop, Paphnutius, this move was checked. E. Schillebeeckx, Clerical Celibacy under Fire, London, 1967, p. 26, cites Mansi 2, 670, in support of his claim that the Council of Nicea forbade marriage after reception of higher orders "according to an ancient tradition of the church." But the canons of Nicea say no such thing. The only possible support for Schillebeeckx's claim might be the statement of Paphnutius that "it would be sufficient, according to the ancient tradition of the Church, if those who had taken holy orders without being married were prohibited from marrying afterwards" (Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.1, p. 620). an H. Bruns, Canones Apostolorum et conciliorum veterum selecti, Turin, 1959, v. 2, pp. 277f. a~ Ibid. (The text is also presented in PL 13, 1181-96.) ~'~ The authority of Scripture and the fathers; a good example to the widows and virgins, and so forth: ibid. ~"Denique illi qui in templo sacrificia offerebant, ut mundi essent toto anno in templo solo observationis ~nerito permanebant, domos suas penitus nescientes. Certe idolatrae, ut impietates exerceant et daemonibus immolent, imperant sibi continentiam muliebrem et ab secis quoque se purgari volunt, et me interrogas si sacerdos dei vivi spiritualia oblaturus sacrificia purgatus perpetuo debeat esse, an totus in carrie carnis curare debeat facere?" (ibid). x~"Suademus quod sacerdotes et levitae cum uxoribus suis non coeant, quia in ministerio ministri quotidianis necessitatibus occu-pantur., si ergo laicis abstinentia imperatur, ut possint deprecantes audiri, quanto magis sacerdos utique omni ~nomento paratus esse debet, munditiae puritate securus, ne aut sacrificium offerat, aut baptizare cogatur." The canons of this synod have come down to us through the letter of Siricius to the bishops of Africa, which in the following year, Siricius repeats this injunction in a letter to the Spanish bishop Himerus of Tarragona and further embellishes it with the cultic purity rationale. Those priests who have continued to beget children are wrong, he says, when they appeal to the example of the Old Testament priests. These latter were permitted to have children only because the law demanded that only descendants of Levi be admitted to the service of God. Such is no longer the case. Furthermore, the Old Testa-ment priests were strictly enjoined to have no sexual relations with their wives during the time of their service, so that they might present to God an acceptable offering. Priests, therefore, who want their daily sacrifices to be pleasing to God must remain continually chaste,is The 5th century follows a similar pattern. Sexual intercourse is forbidden between higher clergy (deacons, priests, bishops) and their wives.10 But their separation is not required:°0 Why no intercourse? "Because at any moment," the Synod of Tours proclaimed in 460, "they may be summoned to the discharge of a sacred func-tion." 21 Canon 2 of the same synod notes that while those who break this rule need not be deposed from their office,2-0 they shall no longer be eligible to a higher grade and shall not be permitted to offer the holy sacrifice or to assist as deacons.23 To strengthen such an arrangement between the clergy and their wives, a number of synods began during this turn was read at the African Synod of Telepte in 418, whence the present text. See Bruns, op. cit. I, p. 154. It is to this canon that the 6th spurious canon of the Synod of Aries (314) probably owes its origin; supra, footnote 11. ~ See Boelens, Die Klerikerehe, pp. 43-44. Arguments such as this were echoed repeatedly in ihe writings of Ambrose and Jerome who during this period were combating the "errors" of Jovinian and Vigilantius. 19See canon 1, Synod of Toledo (400), Hefele-Leclerq, v. 2.1, p. 123; canon 8, Synod of Turin (c. 400), ibid., p. 134; canons 23 and 24, Synod of Orange (441), ibid., p. 446; canon 2, Synod of Arles (443), ibid., p. 462. Pope Leo I in 446 included subdeacons under the rule; see PL 54, 672-3. ~0 Pope Leo I wrote that from the ti.me of ordination, the higher clergy must convert a carnal union into a spiritual one: "They must, though not sending away their wives, have them as though not having them" (PL 54, 1204). It will be recalled that during this same period the Church expressed itself as vehemently opposed to any "spiritual relations" between the clergy and the virgines subintro-ductae. .ol Hefele-Leclerq, v. 2.2, p. 899. The cultic purity rationale was also expressed during this century by Pope Innocent I (see Audet, Str~*ctures, p. 89) and by the Synod of Telepte (418) which, as we have noted earlier, took over the Letter of Siricius and its canons regarding clerical continency; see Bruns, Canones, v. l, p. 154. -°:As other synods had suggested, for example, c. 4, Synod of Carthage (401), Hefele-Leclerq, v. 2.1, p. 127. .-a. Ibid., v. 2.2, p. 899. + + + Celibacy VOLUME 30, 1971 203 + + 4. B. Verkamp REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 204 period to require a vow of chastity prior to ordination. Thus we read in canon 22 of the Synod of Hippo (393) that when lectors have attained the age of puberty, they mnst either marry or make a vow of continence.-04 Later, in 441, a synod at Orange declared that "married men shall not henceforth be ordained deacons unless they have previously vowed chasity." "~ The same decree was repeated at the Synod of Arles in 443.-06 Whatever else these vows came to connote in a later period,-07 there can be little doubt that in their original conception, they were meant simply to support the cultic purity arrange-merit. The next major step in legislation regarding clerical continency came with the rule that the clergy and their wives must separate. Here again the initiative came from Spain. In 517, a synod at Gerona ruled that all ordained married men, from subdeacons to bishops, must cease liv-ing with their wives. If they will not do that, they must at least have living with them someone else who might witness to their conduct."s The last part of this decree suggests something of the motivation underlying the rule of separation stated in the first part. The higher clergy were to separate from their wives, not because they would thereby become more available for Church service, but rather to remove them from suspicion of being less pure than was required of anyone serving at the altar. In other words, the rule of separation was simply a strengthening of the earlier no-interconrse legislation. This becomes even clearer as we trace the development of the law of separation in France during the fith century. Some of the first French synods of this century simply reiterated the EIvira legislation and sought to enforce it by strict penalties. Thus in 535, the Synod of Clermont declared that if anyone is ordained deacon or priest, he must not continne marital interconrse. He becomes a brother of his wife. Those who, inflamed by desire, have "cast off the girdle of the warfare," and have returned to their previous condition,"9 must be deprived of their clerical dignity.:~0 A few years later, however, we see the _o~ Ibid., v. 2.1, p. 87. -"~ Canon 22, ibid., p. 445. ,-,a Canon 2, ibid., p. 462. '-'~ See Schillebeeckx, Clerical Celibacy, p. 60t". ="De conversatione vitae a pontifice usque ad subdiaconum post suscepti honoris oflicium, si qui ex conjugatis fuerint ordinati, ut sine testimonio alterius fratris non utantur auxilio: cure sorore jam ex conjuge facta non habitent; quod si habitare voluerint, alterius [ratris utantur auxilio, cujus testimonio vita eorum debeat clarior apparere" (Bruns, Canones, v. 2, p. 19). See also c. 5, Synod of Toledo (589), ibid., v. 1, p. 214. ._~a,,.abjecto militiae cingulo vomitum pristinum et inhibita rursus conjugia repetiisse." ibid., v. 2, p. 190. ao Canon 13, ibid. start of an attempt to remove the cleric from suspicion, which would climax in a rule like that of Gerona (517). In 541, the Synod of Orleans ruled that bishops, priests, and deacons must not have the same chamber and the same bed with their wives, so that they not be brought into suspicion of carnal intercourse,a~ A synod at Tours in 567 went several steps further, and declared that wherever the bishop resides he must be surrounded with clergy,a" And lest the clergy who serve him come into contact with the maidservants of the bishop's wife, the bishop and his wife shonld have separate abodes,a:~ Sim-ilar rules are laid down for the priests, deacons, and sub-deacons. As very many rural archpriests, deacons, and subdeacons rest under suspicion, of continuing inter-course with their wives, canon 19 states tbat the arch-priest must always have a cleric with him, who accom-panies bim.everywhere and has his bed with him in the same cell;a4 tbe remaining priests, deacons and subdea-cons are warned to take care that their female slaves shall always live where their wives do, while they themselves dwell and pray in their cells alone,a~ A priest who lives with his wife, canon 19 concludes, must not be rever-enced by the people, but disapproved of, because he is a teacher, not of continence, but of vice.a~ In 578, the Synod of Anxerre reiterated the earlier decree of Orleans (541) to the effect that no priest, dea-con, or subdeacon was to sleep in the same bed with his wife after ordination,av In 581, the Synod of Mficon added yet another measure: No woman may enter a bishop's chamber unless two priests or deacons are pres-ent? s Finally, in 583, the Synod of Lyon expressly de-manded that priests and deacons not only have separate beds from their wives but that they also cease all daily contact with them.~9 "t Canon 17, ibid., p. 204. .a~ Canon 12, ibid., p. 227. :~ Ibid. ~' But no priest or monk mlJst sleep in the same bed with an-other, in order to avoid every evil suspicion; ibid., p. 228. a.~ Canon 19, ibid., pp. 229-230. ~ Ibid., p. 230. ar Canon 20, ibid., p. 239. ~ Canon 3, ibid., p. 243. a~ Canon 1, ibid., p. 247: "Placuit etiam, ut si quicuniqne u~oribus juncti ad diaconatus aut presbytcratus ordinem quoquo modo pervenerint, non solum lecto sed etiam frcquentatione quotidiana debeant de nxoribus suis sequcstrari." Outside of Spain and France, the law of separation was only much later enacted. Pope Gregory the Great (590-604) expressly rejected the idea of making those already married leave their wives after ordination unless they had promised continency prior to ordination (Letter 44, PL 77, 505-6). The first Roman synod to require separation was probably that of 743 (See canon 1; Hefele- Leclerq, v. 3.2, p. 851). In the East, the Synod of Trullo (692) rnled + + + Celibacy VOLUME ~0, ~971 205 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. Verkam~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 206 It is hard, therefore, to escape the impression that, as stated above, the separation of clergy from their wives was anything other than yet another facet of the same concern for cultic purity which underlay the earlier pro-hibition of sexual interconrse. This impression is further enhanced by the fact that French synods of the same pe-riod were passing a variety of measures which could only quicken the process of sacralization. The synod at Tours in 567 declared, for example, that at Masses, as well as at Vigils, the laity are not allowed to stand among the clergy near the altar on which the holy mysteries are solemnized.4° According to the Synod of Orleans (533), no woman must henceforth be given the benedictio dia-conalis. 41 Nor may a woman receive the holy Eucharist with uncovered hand,42 or touch the pall.4,~ Clerics are not to wear secular garments.44 The next six centuries saw no basic change in ec-clesiastical legislation touching upon the clergy's sexual conduct or marital status. The myriad decrees issued during these centuries either simply reiterate previous legislation or attempt to strengthen the same with more stringent penalties or some other positive measures, or, finally, seek to deal with complications arising out of the earlier laws. Some repeated the earlier demands for a vow of chastity prior to ordination.4~ Others encourage({ the adoption of a vita communis by the clergy.46 While none that if a married priest is consecrated bishop, his wife must go into a convent at a considerable distance (canon 48, Hefele-Leclerq, v. 3.1, p. 569). The motivation behind this measure was no less grounded in a concern for cultic purity than were similar measures in the West. Canon 13 of Trullo states that at the time when they must celebrate divine services, subdeacons, deacons, and priests are obliged to refrain from their wives since it has already been ordained that be who ministers in sacred things must be pure (ibid., v. 3.1, p. 565). The bishops must abstain completely because, unlike the priests and deacons, theirs is a fulltime service of the altar. ~o Canon 4, Bruns, Canones, v. 2, p. 226. ~t Canon 18, ibid., p. 187. ~-" Canon 36, Synod of Auxerre (578), ibid., p. 241. ~ Canon 37, ibid. "Canon 5, Synod of Mficon (581), ibid., p. 243. ~ Schillebeeckx, Clerical Celibacy, p. 60, cites the Fourth Council of Toledo (633) in this regard. But the "professio castitatis" to which canon 27 of that Council refers concerns a vow made after ordina-tion by those about to take up a rural pastorate (Bruns, Canones, v. 1, p. 231), and not, as Schillebeeckx says, a vow prior to ordination. This would suggest, as Boelens has noted (Die Klerikerehe, p. 100), that the conversio prior to ordination required by the Synod of Toledo in 527 had fallen out of practice. Vows prior to ordination were, however, required by the following synods: Worms (868); Bourges (1031); Limoges (1031); London (1102). ~ One of the first to advocate systematically the vita communis was Chrodegang of Metz (d. 766); see Bihlmeyer-Tiichle, Church History, Westminster, 1963, v. 2, p. 108). Synods at Canterbury (969), Rome (1059), Rome (1063), and Winchester (1076) encourage the idea. showed any concern for the care of the clergyman's wife and children after separation, a number dictated what was to happen to these latter if they did not separate from the cleric. Both the wives and the children were made subject to being sold or taken into slavery.47 The clergymen themselves were generally threatened with dep-osition in the event of disobedience; but when this had little effect, the legislators moved to forbid the laity from attending the Masses of such clerics.48 This "separation from the altar" of the incontinent cleric was extended by Gregory VII in 1079 to exclude the cleric from entrance into the church, so that he could not even take a passive part in divine worship.49 The notion of cultic purity, which we contend was operative within all this legislation, was not always given explicit expression.~° Gregory VII (1073-1085) himself, who climaxed the period under discussion, most fre-quently appealed only to the need for obedience to papal authority.~1 But his untiring efforts to separate the in-continent clergy from the service of .the altar, and oc-casional utterances to the effect that God can only be 57 Concerning wives, see canon 5, Synod of Toledo (653), Brtms, Canones, v. 1, p. 280; Synod of Rome (1049), Boelens, Die Klerikerehe, p. 135. Regarding children, see canon 10, Synod of Toledo (655), Bruns, Canones, v. 1, p. 295; Synod of Pavia (1022), Hefele-Leclerq, v. 4.2, p. 920. The inability of the children of clergymen to inherit Church goods had long before been established by the Code of Justinian (529), and by Pope Pelagius (556-561). The synods of Toledo (655) and Pavia (1022) reasserted the same. Pope Gregory VII especially showed himself callous as regards the clergyman's dependents. Boelens writes: "Tatsache abet war doch, (lass die meisten verheiratet waren und (lass sic Frau und Kinder hatten, fi_ir die sie zu sorgen batten. Wie sich die gregorianische Reform fiir sic auswirkte, wurde in den Gesetzcn hie erwahnt. Man vcrffigte nicht, was mit Frau und Kindern gcscbchcn sollten; nut immer wicder das Eine: 'crimen fornicationis' oder 'morbus fornica-tionis clericorum' oder bloss cinfach 'fornicatio' muss strong bestraft werden" (Die Klerikerehe, p. 147). ~8See Synods of Rome 0059), Rome (1063), Gerona (1068), Rome (1074), Poitiers (1078), Piacenza (1095), London (1102). Gregory VII also turned to the laity for support when some German bishops refused to cooperate with his refo

Issue 28.2 of the Review for Religious, 1969. ; EDIT~)R R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant edRor, as wel! as books for review, should be sent to ~EVIE~,V FOR RELIOIOUSj 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63~o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 32t Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9~o6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by facuhy members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, ~be editoria| ot~ices being located at 612 llumboldt Building; .539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. 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Questions for answering should be seni to the address of the Questions and Answers editor, MARCH ~969 VOLUME 28 NUMBER 2 ANDRE AUW, C.P. The Evangelical Counsels: Ways of Becoming Free- Many years ago a young man walked into a Jewish synagogue and at the time for the readings, arose, took the scroll that was handed to Him, and read the follow-ing lines: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me Because the Lord has anointed me To bring good tidings to the afflicted, He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, Toproclaim liberty to the captives, Andthe opening of the prison to those who are bound. The young man, of course, was Jesus Christ, a man sent by God to be a liberator of men: And His mission was never more beautifully described than in those words of Isaiah which he read to the assembly: "He has sent'me to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to .those who are bound." The mission was one of liberation, of enabling men to become free. If it is true that our mission as religious is the same as Christ's mission, then it is important thatwe .examine the vows, and the counsels on which they are based, in the light of freedom. And so I have chosen to do this, tO discuss the vows as possible means of liberating us as persons, so that we can help others to become liberated. I would like to begin this consideration of the vows with a personal reflection that might serve as a frame-work for my approach. For the past five years I have been working with a great variety of groups: college students, married couples, priests, religious--men and women of all faiths or of no faith. And I have been surprised at the consistency of their impressions of re-ligious, Gradually I have been able to weave together a fabric + ÷ ÷ Andre Auw, C.P., writes from the Center for Students of the Person; P.O. Box 2157; La Jolla, California 92037. VOLUME 28," 1969 .175 Andre Auw, C.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS from their attitudes and responses. It is a fabric that is not pleasant to touch. I have the impression that their one dominant way of evaluating us is ~in terms of free-dom. For the most part they see us as terribly unfree. They see us as dedicated, well-intentioned men and women, who are, nevertheless, imprisoned by our way of life, trapped by our traditions, hemmed in, and, as the c.ollege students say, "hung up" by our systems and legal prescriptions. The most vocal expression of these feelings has come from the college student groups. And perhaps that is why my initial reaction to this consistent message was one of annoyance and irritation. I found myself rather defensive at what seemed to be an adolescent smugness on the part of these students, and at what appeared to be a. very unfair and unbalanced evaluation. Not all reli-gious are so rigid, unfree, trapped, and hemmed in. That was my initial reaction, But when I reflected a little more I discovered that I was reacting to things I did not want to believe could be true. And when I could be more honest with myself, I had to admit that this is the very image that many religious, including myself, have projected. My pondering also gave me some other valuable in-formation. Not only were these people telling me things about myself that I found hard to hear. They were also trying to tell me things about themselves which they found hard to bear. They were speaking of their fears. Seeing me unfree they were reminded of their own fear of never becoming free enough to be a mature loving person. They thought of their fear of being swallowed up in an impersonal, computerized society, of their fear of .being trapped by outdated traditions and hemmed in by unreasonable laws. All of their fears and frustrations which have been spilling out in bloody streaks from Watts to Washington, D.C., from the lawns of Berkeley to the halls of Columbia, were freshly underlined. It seems that they had turned toward, me, a religious, in hope, but finding me unfree, had turned away from me in sadness. They felt they must search elsewhere to find someone free enough to be able to show them the way to freedom. ¯ And so it seems to me to be a vital need to consider the vows in the light of freedom, to measure them by the manner in which they measure up as liberating forces in our lives. Nietzsche once said: "If they¯want me to believe in their God. they are going to have to sing better hymns for me; they are going to have to show me that they are men who have been liberated." Mod-ern man is saying the same thing to us today. He knows the message of Christ is essentially ]iberative, and be wants to see how well that message has liberated the religious who call themselves witnesses, before he will. consider buying it. In order to understand the vows as ways of becoming free we should understand what we mean by .freedom. It is not the ability to do whatever pleases me. That is narcissism. St. Paul has described it beautifully in the following instruction to the Galatians: "You should be free to serve one another in love" (Gal 5:14). And Doctor Carl Rogers spells that out a little more sharply when he talks about "a freedom which. [man] courageously uses to live his potentialities., which assists [him] in becoming human, in relating to others, in being a per-son." This is a freedom which makes us responsible lovers, concerned about responding sensitiveIy to others and not inhibited by the shadows of our own fears. How can the vows be ways of enabling us as religious to possess this kind of freedom? Let us examine them separately. First, poverty. What is there about this way of being a.nd living which can be liberating for us? In view of the definition of freedom as the ability to serve my brother in love, I would see poverty as a statement of value. For me, the true spirit of poverty is a way of being which can help me to tell my brother that I consider him more important than the material possessions I can acquire. And by not being so dependent upon .having things I am truly freer to share myself with others. Not needing to satisfy so many of my own desires, I can be more open and responsive to the needs of others. This is certainly the accent that we find in Scripture. Having things or not having things is of secondary importance in New Testament reflection on poverty. The emphasis is not on having, but on being: being able to "be" for others. The tragedy of the rich man Dives in the Lazarus story is not that he was wealthy, but that his wealth had made him insensitive and in-capable of meeting the needs of his suffering brother. There is, I feel, a parallel today in the attitude of people towards the poverty of religious. I do not be-lieve that intelligent people are harshly critical of us be-cause we possess large buildings and bank accounts. But they are severely critical when our buildings or our money keep us aloof and uninvolved in serious social issues. They can tolerate our need for some kind of. status but they cannot forgive us when we are incapable of service. As religious we need help in order to appreciate pov-erty as a way of freeing us from the paralyzing effect of accumulated material possessions. Freeing us from the demands of our own egos, so that we can walk--or even + + + The Counsels VOLUME 28, 1969 177 4- REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS run--to meet the needs of others. And so that we can do this without wanting a lot of "extras." When we do not have this spirit, something rather ugly happens to us even though we do not consciously promote it. We become very protective of our own in-terests. Speaking in another context, Charles Davis re-ferred to this self-service: The official church is racked with fear, insecurity and anxiety, with a consequent intolerance and lack of love. And what frustrates any effort at remedy is the perpetual dominance of the system over the person., the system always comes first. I would like to hope that I could become a different kind of religious, one who is seen as valuing the human person above any thing or system. I would like to be seen by those whom I serve as poor in material posses-sions, but rich in caring, unselfish as I serve them, and sometimes even a bit joyous in the sharing of myself: what I am and what I have as a Christ-person. This is the kind of witness that modern man needs and wants. He is terribly frustrated and unhappy with his accumulated wealth. He finds the things he possesses getting in the way of his relationships with the people he loves. And he does not know how to free himself. He needs people who can show him a new set of values and a new way of being with people. And finally, in regard to poverty, it is worthwhile re-calling that when Christ, after the miracle of Naim, was asked: "Are you the Messiah?" He responded not by pointing to the miracle of new life given to a dead man. Instead, He said: "Go and tell John what you see., the poor have the gospel preached to them." That was, and is still, the sign par excellence of the messianic liberator. It is the sign that shows people what Christ and His message are all about. Next let us examine obedience as a way of becoming free. I especially like Father Van Kaam's concept of obedience. It is taken from the root meaning of the word, "obaudire," which means "to hear." For me, obedience can be a wonderfully freeing thing when it is understood as a sensitive listening to the heartbeat of the Christian community. I think I would also add, a responsive and responsible listening. This means that those in authority and those under them have a need to listen to one an-other, to listen together to those they are committed to serve. It is responsive, and this implies a kind of generous spontaneity which is far removed from docile acceptance of an order. And it is responsible, which implies the recognition of an obligation that stems from a love com-mitment. For many the word obedience conjures up fantasies of force and control and restriction. How then can obedience be seen as a liberating force? I believe that one factor which can truly make obedience liberating is the factor of trust. The social and behavioral scientists have done con-siderable work in the area of authority relationships and they have discovered some interesting facts. They have found that when a climate of trust exists in a group, the people who are in positions of authority, are more re-laxed and do not feel a need to maintain tight kontrol and supervision. They are inclined to be open to sug-gestions for change. Those who are working for them tend to produce better and to assume responsibility for the welfare of the group as well as for the work they must do individually. One of the elements which Doctor Jack Gibb isolated in groups where authority relationships were poor was the attitude on the part of those in positions of leadership. These leaders held two assumptions regarding those who worked for them: that they were not to be trusted, and that they were irresponsible. Unfortunately, in many cases, these assumptions became a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy which created the very conditions that man-agement sought to avoid. There may well be similar assumptions on the part of religious superiors. We have had a long heritage of pro-tectiveness, and it is hard to effectively break away frown these patterns. Undoubtedly the atmosphere of trust is much better now than it was ten years ago, but there most likely is still a great deal of work to be done in religious communities in this area. Our obedience can be lib-erating for us only when, together, we can begin to as-sume that we can be trusted and that we can be re-sponsible for ourselves. Paradoxical as it may sound, a person must be truly independent before he can surrender himself to another. Thus I, as a religious, must experience your trust and my own responsibility before I can surrender my needs and desires in such a way that together we can listen sensi-tively to the needs of the community we serve. It is then, and only then, that I can find it possible to accept a diffi-cult assignment or perform unpleasant tasks as a respon-sive and responsible lover. Doctor Carl Rogers has said that in order to be a really effective teacher a person must have a profound trust in the human organism and its potentialities. Otherwise he will cram the student full of all the information he thinks is good for him rather than help the student to learn what is important for him. Having worked with Doctor Rogers I can state that this is not mere theory for him; it is the way he functions with people. He pre- + + + The Counsels VOLUME 28, 1969 179 ÷ ÷ ÷ Andre Auw, C~P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS' fers to be gullible, to take people at face value, .and to believe the things they say to him. And oddly enough, people are so warmed by this kind of unconditional ac-ceptance that they soon stop telling lies and cease trying to impress. They find they no longer have to hide their refil feelings, and it is a very wonderful experience for them. By experiencing the trust of a loving person they were.able to begin to surrender a bit of themselves. I believe it is this kind of trust which is needed to transform our understanding of obedience. Obedience should not make us docile conformists, but responsible lovers. Today more than ever before we need a concept of obedience which will enable, us to assume responsi-bility for our actions and our lives. We need greater power to freely surrender our self-centered desires and needs. The example of Peter in the New Testament seems to be a striking illustration of the kind of obedience I am talking about. Peter began his authority relationship with Christ feeling very insecure. He made a great many mistakes, yet each time he did so, Christ confirmed him as a person by making him feel that He still trusted him. The peak experience for Peter came during the meet-ing with Christ outside the palace of the high priest. Peter, ashamed at his betrayal, finally found the courage to look at Christ, and that loving glance of the Master made Peter aware that Christ still believed in him, still trusted him. It was only after this that Peter felt secure enough to accept the responsible task of shepherding the flock for Christ. It was Christ's trust of Peter that made' possible the entrusting of the flock to him. And it was this same trust that transformed Peter into a re-sponsive and responsible lover. This is a way of being that modern man wants to dis-cover very badly. He finds it so hard to reach beyond the limits of his own ego. He is searching for someone who can show him an obedience which is an exercise of responsibility freely chosen, and yet something binding and demanding because that is the way of love. Modern man needs to experience this kind of trust-filled loving so that he too can become free to love. He wants to be able to say in the words of The Little Prince: "I am re-sponsible for my rose." That would be for him the state-ment of a truly obedient man, rejoicing in an obedience which is richly liberating. Finally we come to the vow of celibate love. I have chosen to discuss it under this title rather than that of chastity because I believe this best expresses, the real meaning o.f the vow. There has been so much written on celibacy in the past year that I iliad it difficult say something which will ,1 not be excessively redundant. Perhaps the best approach will be to share some of my reactions to recent articles that I have read. Frankly, I am not impressed byo being told that I am an eschatological sign because I am a celibate. I really do not think that the men and women who come in contact with me are go.ing to experience a love that. is redeeming simply by being aware that I can point to a way they will love one another in heaven. They need to know how to love here and now. I am not denying the theology of eschatological witness; I am saying that it is not a good enough reason to justify my be!ng a celibate. But perhaps the thing that disturbs me most about recent discussions on celibacy is the somewhat naive as-sumption that the celibate way of life "ex se" or. auto-matically will produce good results; that it will make us better lovers. Anyone who has worked closely with re-ligious in different communities 'knows that this simply is not an assumption based on fact. The fact is that we find it hard to be generous and warm lovers, in com-munity as well as out of community. And for me that is the very heart of the matter: being able to love others humanly, warmly. One of the most beautiful compliments that I.have re-ceived is a statement that has poignantly sad overtones: "You know you don't seem like a priest; you're so hu-man." What kind of celibacy is it that 'contributes to such an image? On the other hand I am equally disturbedby propo-nents of some undefined "third way," who speak so un-realistically of married love. Marriage can be just as de-humanizing as celibacy, as any counselor knows. Sexual expression :without sexual integration can be just as dev-astating for married persons as the lack of sexual expres, sion without-sexual integration can be for celibates. Neither marriage nor celibacy guarantees any(hing in the way of mature loving. However, both can be Ways of becoming free in order to grow as lovers. Both demand sexual integration as a prerequisite for personal fulfill-ment. And botl~ take a great deal of work and pain and perseverance and patience.' What then is there about the celibate .way of loving which can be for a religiousa liberating experience? First of all, I believe that celibacy, lovingly and. freely embraced, enabIes me to say to those I am committed to serve that I can love them in a way which is rich and deep and truly human, but in a way which is not demanding. And this is a magnificently freeingkind of awareness. It means that when I have accepted my sexuality and be-gun to integrate if, I can add another dimension to my VOLUME ~'St 2.969 "~, ; ISt 4, 4, Andre Auw, C.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 18~ relationships. I can show people what it means to love someone just ~for himself. Not for his usefulness or phys-ical attractiveness. Not for his fine mind or remarkable talents, but just for himself. I can show him a way of loving and living which inte-grates se~xuality in a way that is different from married people. "It is a way which recognizes the splendor of sexuality, but which at the same time chooses to refrain from sexual .expression. I can show this person how to love both men and women warmly and deeply, with tenderness and even affection, without the overriding fear of automatic sexual involvement. And this, I believe, is precisely the kind of loving that modern man is hungry for. He is very confused by his sexuality, and it has become for him the alpha and omega of his existence. Deep within him he senses that ful-fillment iiavolves more than sex, but he finds it hard to translate this vague inner feeling into the language of everyday living because he does not find enough lovers who think much differently from the way he does. Modern man can learn a great deal from a religious who appreciates his sexuality enough to give it just enough importance in his life, but no more than that. How much it can mean for the confused modern to experi-ence a love which accepts him not for anything he has, but only for what he is. This alone is enough to be redemptive for many men and women. It seems as if there is in the heart of man a yearning for the model lover who is strong enough in serf-mastery to be free to be a kind of savior for others. In the folklore of most nations and tribes there are redemptive figures who, most often, were celibates during the time of their inessianic mission. We have only to recall the mythical warriors of the Far East and of-Indian culture, the many versioned prince myths of the early Middle Ages, the knights of King Arthur, and even in our own coun-try, the man of the West, the hero of the desert and prairie. Let us think of this last figure [or a moment. In story and song he has been pictured as a man of great physi-cal and moral strength. But primarily he is a man on a redemptive mission, living only for others. He rides into a town, bringing his honesty and integrity. He is manly; but also gentle with women. He is compassion-ate toward the poor and helpless. He stamps out evil and plants the seeds of goodness and truth. He brings sal~cation to a village. And when his redemptive mission is accomplished, this celibate lover accepts the love that people can give him in return for his, but he never de-mands it. Then, 'his work finished, he rides of[ alone to anbther ~¢illage and other people who need his kind of loving in order to be redeemed, to be liberated. In a similar way the modern religious celibate ac-complishes his redemptive mission. What he really gives to others is a portion of his own gift of freedom. He too will have to "ride" alone, but only in the sense of not having a single exclusive love relationship. For as he grows in his own mature sense of .freedom he ,will 'be enriched by many deep and beautiful love relationships. And this too becomes a gift to be shared with others, the gift of knowing how to put love and sexuality into a splendid and yet practical perspective. The task of integrating these two elements is always a difficult one. But one insight is very important. A sister, during a weekend workshop with .married couples, ex-pressed it well. She said: "You know, before this Week-end I had planned to leave my religious community. But now, I'm not so sure. You see, I thought my problems were the problems of a celibate religious, and I dis-covered that they are the problems of a woman. I found married women with the same basic problems, and they are making better adjustments to. them than I have been doing." This is so very true. Most of our problems are ,not the result of our celibacy but of our humanness. Neither marriage nor sexual intercourse will resolve our ten-sions. These will be resolved when we learn how to be-come truly human and loving. Then it will be possible for the celibate way of life to be rewarding for us and redeeming for others. It is then that we can demonstrate to others a love that is most beautiful because it is least demanding. Celibacy will not automatically make us great lovers, but a lover who understands and values his celibacy can be a model lover for others, a lover who is free enough to be able to free others. Certainly it is this kind of loving that is needed so desperately today by modern man who no longer feels lovable or loved. It may well be that only when he .ex. periences such undemanding love will he be ~onvinced of the genuine value of Christ's love. It may be that he will be able to believe in the celibate lover of Calvary only after he has come to believe in other celibates who can surrender, as He did, one of the most priceless gifts that God has given them. Perhaps .then, when he sees us free enough to surrender our sexuality for his sake, he may come to believe that he really is worth sav-ing and that God does care about him after all. It is a knowledge that many men still seek when they come ih contact with celibate lovers. These, then, are some of my reflections on the vows as ways of becoming free. I would like to understand the vows as ways of enabling us to be free enough to make it possible for others to believe in themselves. I would.like ÷ ÷ ÷ The Counsels,~ . VOLUME' 28~' 1969" '° :. ,183 + to think that we can be free from the obsessive need to accumulate things, free to surrender ourselves to others, free to love deeply and warmly. And that is why I feel that we must seek new insights concerning the vows. A young high school student, talking, about religious life and the vows, was asked what kind of religious com-munity he would have if he were to start one tomorrow, The young man said: "Well; I don't think I would make them take any vows." But then he paused and reflected on that, and he added a sentence that sums up the whole meaning of the vows and the religious life. He said: "Unless it would be possible to take a vow., to love." If that were truly the spirit behind our vows, they would be, for us, ways of becoming free. Finally, it is well to remember that the way of the vows is the way of Christ Himself. It is the way of a man with a mission to set men free. And the men of Christ's time were not so very different from the men of our day: angry, restless, rebellious, indifferent, frightened, and insecure, yet searching for a Christ-person who would be their liberator. Christ walked into their midst, heard their cry, and showed them a way of life that was for them a way of freedom. He showed them how to be free~ from the de-humanizing demands of the law and tradition, free from the imprisoning fear of what people might say, free from the overconcern about food and power and sex. Christ showed them a way of poverty and obedience and celibate love. Today we, as .religious, stand in the place of Christ to continue His redemptive mission, to be His witnesses. If we can find better ways to be what we say we are, then we too can arise in the assembly and announce to the world that we also have been sent to "bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound." And hopefully, people will hear us not because of what we say, but because of what we are: witnesses. Perhaps the following lines spell that out for us in clearer language: A witness is A man who stands out Because he is not afraid to stand up A man who outreaches others Because he reaches out to other.s Andre Auw, C~P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 184 A man who lifts others up Because he bends down to their weakness A man whose heart has grown great Because he has learned to become small A witness is all this and more He is a man who walks across the wastelands Of human lives And uncovers hidden springs A man who opens windows everywhere To the sunlight and springtime fragrance Of the risen Christ And passing through the doors of seILfilled hearts He lights and leaves behind An everlasting flame Ultimately a witness is a man who does all these things Because He is not afraid To love. The CoUnsels VOLUME 28, 1969 I85 CARL J. PETER Culture and the Vocation Crisis Carl J. Peter teaches theology and lives at Curley Hall, Box 49; Cath-olic University of America in Wash-ington, D.C. 20017. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS A change has occurred in the way young men and women view the prospect of becoming a priest, lay brother, or nun. At the very least they manifest less en-thusiasm or inclination along these lines. One may ask when this began or indeed inquire whether it has not just begun. Few, I think, will challenge the proposition itself. This change of attitude is very definitely evidenced by those who have matriculated in the Catholic school sys-tem. One encounters it in the Mary and Johnny of whom but a few years back while they were still on the primary level in parochial schools, we asked why they could not read. All of this is true and will be conceded by those who regard the situation as healthy no less than by those who regard it as disastrous. Religious Convictions and the Young The change in question has causes that are closely connected with religious conviction or its lack. There is an obvious hesitancy on the part of youth, an unwilling-ness or an unreadiness to embrace as a state of life the ministry of the gospel in its traditional form. But it is a great oversimplification, I feel, to assign as a total ex-planation a weakening or loss of faith. In some cases, + precisely the opposite is true. + At least many of the young people involved are any- + thing other than lacking in generosity. Interest in im-proving the lot of tbeir fellow man characterizes their mental and emotional outlook. Here is where the diffi-culty lies. In ever increasing numbers they fail to see this humanitarian interest connected with the life of the priesthood, sisterhood, and brotherhood. One may contend that this is because of the present conditions in which these callings are lived and exercised, because, for example, so much of a priest's time and 18fi energy is spent in activities that have no apparent con- nection with the betterment of mankind or at least one that is very minimal. Devoting each Monday to counting the collection; running off the Sunday bulletin on the rectory or parish duplicator; keeping the books for the school hot lunch program--the instances could be multi-plied. Now it is surely a mistake to associate a priest's work exclusively with such activities. But to ask young people to ignore this aspect is expecting a bit too much. A large part of the problem with regard to vocations is that prospective candidates see too much activity on the part of the cleric or religious" too little connected with making mankind's future better than its past. Liturgy and a Life Choice But this is not all. Even in cultic functions associated with the administration of the sacraments, there is real difficulty. Whether humanity is genuinely better off be-cause of all this divine worship is a question posed over and over again. Here it is not a matter of poorly or sel-dom exercised functions of the priest but rather the im-portance pure and simple of such fimctions in the world at all. Many adults recognize this and conclude that the vocation crisis connected with such questioning is really a crisis of faith. My contention, however, is that at least some of these difficulties and doubts in the religious realm are caused by a cultural change that affects the entire world of man in all its facets. The crisis of vocations is connected often enough with a corresponding crisis of faith. This is not so much because many have simply ceased to believe but rather because the atmosphere in which they have grown up and live demands a choice between conflict-ing values, religious ones included. As a result, young people find it both harder to reject the latter outright and yet more difficult as well to embrace them fully. The reason is that our day is one of cultural transformation with all that this involves. If this is anything other than self-evident, it is nevertheless important. The Meaning of Cultural Change To make the statement that culture has a great deal to do with the unrest experienced by youth and indeed believers in general is hardly a novelty today. It is intro-duced into the present context with the hope that it will be more than a mere repetition. To achieve this will re-quire making an effort to clarify what is meant by cul-tural change. Only then will others be able to judge whether this is in fact what is taking place with profound religious consequences. Such explanation is precisely what is lacking in a number of other attempts to trace the believer's troubles to this same source. Vocation Crisis VOLUME 28, 1969 18'/ Carl .I. Peter REVIE%' FOR RELIGIOUS Examples may be of help. Leslie Dewart has con-nected the present plight Of Christianity with a retention of Hellenism or Hellenistic culture.x There is nothing to be gained from adding one more name to the list of critics of The Future of Belief.2 It is, however, a far from easy task to determine what he means by Hellenism. And yet this is quite important for his contention. Something very similar is true of Bishop John Robin-son. 8 He contends that the present difficulties of Chris-tianity are in great part connected with the fact that fundamental truths are being rejected wholesale because they are presented in a "supranaturalistic" mode of thought: The latter is surely a cultural phenomenon, but one that is extremely vague. It seems to involve a world picture with God outside the physical and psychic uni-verse but intervening now and again. To retain such a world picture, he writes, is incompatible with being a truly modern man. Meaningful truths fall under the weight of their utterly unacceptable trappings that bear witness to a dead culture. But here precisely is his problem. God, for Robinson, is not intended to be the product of a culture. Yet if one cannot tell what you mean by the latter, you do run the risk of having others hard pressed to determine whether you really stand for a God who endures despite a cultural change. At this point some are probably wondering whether it is not precisely a crisis o[ faith that must be dealt with. Perhaps it is. But to no small degree it is first of all a cultural crisis leaving its marks on all of us. Bishop Robinson may not have been successful in explaining what he means by a change of culture. He has never-theless described well the period in which we are living. It is the age of the overlap, the period in which some-thing very new is still in the process of emerging. Ours is a period of tension or dialectic. Hopefully a beneficial synthesis will be the outcome. One thing is sure; neither of the two extremes in the present picture culturally is likely to remain as is. Both are going to be modified and remarkably so. But it is the present state that must be analyzed, again with the observation that understanding what is happening is a first step toward dealing reason-ably and effectively with the situation. Good practice depends on an accurate assessment of what is involved. Dewart and Robinson call attention to the pangs in-volved in the change through which we are living. Both are agreed on this. An old culture is in the process 1 Leslie Dewart, The Future of Belie[ (New York: Herder and Herder, 1966). '-' See the remarks of Jaroslav Pelikan and Bernard J. F. Lonergan in Theological Studies, v. 28 (1967), pp. 352-6 and 336-51 respec-tively. s John A. T. Robinson, Honest to God (London: SCM, 1963). of dying. It does not offer a form that religious belief will find viable in the future.4 In my opinion they are correct; the. cultural state we are now in cannot last. Indeed it takes no prophet to see that it will not. An-other thing is equally sure. Things will not revert to the way they were before all this began, whenever that was. The present situation makes that abundantly clear. Culture and Values Our age is.witnessing a remarkable conflict of values, and they are not directly religious in nature. At least they can be and are embraced by those who avowedly profess or practice no religion at all as well as by various types of believers in a Supreme Being. Now if this is true, it is also a prerequisite for understanding the cultural crisis of the present. For what 3[ mean by culture involves at0 the very least values and indeed a'more or less connected set of values. My contention is that we are living in a period of.history where there is a particularly fierce struggle between two opposing sets of purely human values. If some sort of synthesis is the most likely and desirable outcome, still, living in the overlap can be confusing. Two sets of values compete; each has something ~o be said for it, something to commend it. For many this is stimulating, but for no small number, ever increasing knowledge, acquaintance, and experience preclude, decisions on a clear course of action. In fact at times the result is paralysis or choices no sooner made than regretted, commitments given and then retracted. But if a convict of values can lead to these practical consequences, what sort of values are in question? The Good and Its Modes Getting things done or a sense of practical "know-how" has from the earliest days been a characteristic of our country. Indeed, it was very quickly identified ~with Yankees and their ingenuity. To put this another way, achievemerit and performance are values long esteemed by our society. And yet as ea'rly as the War between the States they were sought after in two radically opposed ¯ ways. Preservation of a heritage was the performance one section of the nation desired; improvement, refine. ment, elimination of defects and evils inspired the other. Concretely the value of performance, know-how, or achievement was realized in two conflicting ways. Given the question of freedom and human dign.ity, it is dear ~For a case along the same line but developed with heavy dependence on American Pragmatism as a philosophical basis, see Eugene Fontinell, "Religious Trtith in a Relational and Processive World," Cross Currents, v. 16 (1967), pp. 283-315. 4- 4- 4- ¥ocation Crisis VOLUME 28, ,196~ Carl ~ J.~ Peter REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 190 that a moral issue was at stake. But there were other as-pects as well; for instance, strict or loose construction of the Constitution. Both forms of interpretation were religiously' neutral if not secular. Both likewise had ref-erence to the value of performance. But the way the lat-ter was realized in North and South led to tension, strife, and conflict. The situation afterwards was never the same again. There is something in this history that repeats itself. Clinging to tradition and the progress achieved in the past claims the allegiance of certain minds and hearts. It is likely true that this will always be the case. Still others are no less moved by the desire to strike out and move ahead in man's endless effort to better his~lot on this planet. Education offers another example. The value of a teacher's performance is judged in terms of pedagogical goals. Some maintain the educator aims at handing on truth, with the supposition that humanity has already achieved it in a way that can be improved but never fundamentally surpassed. By instinct and. reasoned con-viction others look for the teacher or professor to en-gage together with the student in a quest for truth. The assumption is that there is always more worth looking for and in comparison with which the knowledge at-tained is partial and incomplete. Now neither of these attitudes toward pedagogical goals is directly religious. Neither is exclusively demanded by Catholic faith. But the adoption of either as a value has religious implica-tions. An illustration may be of assistance. A question arises that is new and demands some sort of response or answer. Before doing anything else, the man or woman influenced by the value of preserving truth will attempt to solve the present case by recourse to precedents. Only too often this involves making the present in its unique-ness conform, whether it really does or not, with norms that were established earlier but without the slightest intention of binding all future generations. The value of preserving truth and past achievements translates itself religiously into that of fidelity. If the past has no claim to direct our own religious history, then there was no uniqueness in the event we call the Incarnation. Then God has not involved Himself irrevocably and finally in the history of man long before 'our day. When one re-gards0 education as a process of passing on certain truths, he is predisposed to be concerned religiously with the fidelity of God and man. A cultural value, namely pi:eserving the accomplishments of the past, can and does have profound religious consequences in thought and action. But education can also be conceived of as performance involving an unending quest [or truth. In this case, when one makes the transposition to a religious level, the goal is a search for the God who even after revelation in Jesus is still a mystery and to know whom is really to be yet groping even when one gropes with the aid of infallible direction. St. Paul offers a good example of this. In his Epistle to the Romans he spends three chapters (9-11) studying the will of God as concretely realized in the plan of salvation for Gentile and Jew. Interpreting the hist6ry of his own day as God's saving providence, he obviously presupposes that man can .know the divine will. And yet he concludes with a hymn proclaiming "that no one realiy knows the mind of the Lord. All subsequent Christian theology has been an at-tempt to grapple with the great mystery that God remains even after He reveals Himself to man. His ways are mysterious and yet sure, free and yet faithful. To em-phasize one over the Other leads to a lopsided theology. But why would one be inclined to do this? The reason is clear enough. There is a tendency to do so, one deriving from culture today especially. That culture is complex; it evokes diverse responses, some calculated to preserve the truth and goodness that have already been achieved and others aimed at improving both in the future. The result is cultural tension with theological consequences of the first order. When a question arises on a religious or doctrinal level, for those inclined to revere the past it is not a matter of being faithful pure and simple. There is a cultural fac-tor inclining them to their position. Others are more ready to strike out [or the new and unknown. Here it is the mystery of God and His dealings with man that will enthrall them. What has been said of Him in the past, even in infallible "utterances, is true enough but insuffi-cient. Their great law is: "Thou shalt not have strange Gods before me." They do not wish to worship idols rather than the true God; and it is no less idolatrous to worship one's image of God than it is to adore wood, or stone, or precious metals. Here again, however, the inclination is not purely religious; it is cultural. These are the men and women who in any event are more moved by a goal that is worthwhile and possible than by achievements that are already a fact but with clear defects. ,4pplication to Present Conditions It is in the realm of attitudes that one must look for evidence of culture or values held in esteem or disrepute. Our culture involves an ambivalence of attitudes with regard to the present in its relation to the future. ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 28° 1969 .!. ÷ Carl I. Peter REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 19~ Contemporary forms are generally considered inade-quate in the long run to meet humanity's needs of the near future. If one insists that this is not true in the religious sphere, youth is expected to assert that m6- rality and faith are somehow not part of the changing world. This is only too evidently false. It is also discourag-ing. If true, it would surely follow that from neither could man hope for much improvement. When the past is loved too much and present values, cherished too intensely, the inevitable result is that fewer and fewer young people will spend their lives ina performance directed to preserving it. This attitude has been wide-spread and is showing its effects. The cultural cry of more and more of the young is "On to the Future" by radical change of the present. Confronted with the evils man has injected into his world, they find an attractiveness in this value. That it conflicts with the former is obvious. That the result is confusion, tension, unease, unwillingness or inability to commit oneself fully to one or the other is not sur-prising. Neither value is directly religious. Each has religious implications and does sometimes presuppose a lessening or even loss of religious commitment. But to concentrate on this would be to try to cure a symptom. Our whole society knows it must change and change radically. And yet unless we learn from the past, from its successes as well as its failures, we shall grope with-out any guidelines or the slightest assurance that what we learn today will help tomorrow and not hinder, Man's leap forward came.from a spirit of adventure and a lack of willingness to be content with the status quo. This is true of man whether he professed a religion or not. Youth today knows it. They look for a willingness to take this risk in religion and its leaders. But they also realize that man's advance has been accompanied by a multiplication of evils in the form of wars, famine, and untold human suffering. It was paid for in the form of untold labor and often shortened life spans "of pioneers. Today many of them are asking whether progress at such a price and with such attendant evils is worth it after all. It is a question of values and attitudes. Not a few seem to choose neither content-ment with the past nor striving to improve the future, at least not by joining existing organizations to achieve this. In the sense of the two alternatives, they seem to be opting out as close to altogether as is possible. Among their eiders, those who cling to the past do so not wholly because of faith, and those who strive to ob-tain the improvement of the future surely are not so motivated solely because of basic religious conviction or its lack. It is in both cases a cultural response elicited by the world in which they live. To be cautious is a value; to be adventuresome no less so. Neither in itself is reli-gious. Those inclined to esteem the former expect it most of all in religion; those who prefer the latter look for it above all in the area of faith and faith-inspired life. There is a crisis all right, but one stemming fi:om a com-plex culture or set of opposing values, each of which has something to be said for it. How easy it would all be if it were otherwise. It would be a mistake to overlook this when considering the situation of young men and women choosing or living out a religious vocation. Maximum E~ciency versus Involvement There is another pair of values related to achievement. Is the latter the work of one or many? Some are loners and find it hard to be any other way. But today it is extremely difficult to stand alone in achievement. The individual source of inspiration, one overseer or director iqith the power to make decisions--this leads at times to unquestionably greater efficiency and permits the de-termination of responsible agents in various fields. For some this is still a most desirable good. Society needs the great man as leader; the Church, the truly independent bishop and pope. But for others worthwhile goals are achieved only in the close cooperation of many laboring in a basically similar frame of mind despite difficulties. This implies the initiative not only of the leader but of many cooperating and participating as fully as possible in the endeavor. Neither attitude is basically religious. This is again witnessed in the pedagogical order. Why do so many professors today have such trouble with classes when they employ the lecture system? The latter is surely not something religious or irreligious. Nor is it that professors lecture without the ability of their predecessors. And yet in ever increasing numbers, courses based solely on this method are being phased out be-cause they are not being heard or listened to. The teacher who simply lectures today has to be a lot better than one who did the same fifty years ago just to accomplish as much. The reason is simple. To such an approach there is opposition that is neither religious nor irreligious but rather cultural. It arises from the conviction that truth and other values are to be sought not solely or primarily through the energy of one man directing the receptivity of others but through the combined efforts of many. The planning of seminary curricula is taking note of this. So must the charting of course for a parish or diocese if they are to achieve their respective goals. To think that papal primacy, episcopal collegiality, or lay initiative will not be affected by this cultural factor is disastrous, especially in dealing with prospective vocations. If this ÷ ÷ ÷ Vocation Crisis VOLUME 28, ].9~9 Cad ]. Peter REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]94 is obviously hard for some to accept, it is important nonetheless. Achievements of the Paso Some men and women tend to concentrate on the good that has already been attained and are pleased with past efforts as well as optimistic about the state of the union, whatever union may be involved. Others view past achievements with guarded reserve or more often criti-cism, positive or negative. These are human attitudes not particularly connected with religion more than with politics or economics. But they do affect the way one re-gards formulations of Christian faith. Have the conciliar determinations helped or are they, though true, in their own way very limited? As regards present institutions, few adamantly deny they have accomplished some, indeed tremendous good. But what of the defects? They are pres-ent as well. Revelation does not direct attention to either exclusively. The way one evaluates other things will have a great deal of influence here. But that is clearly in the realm of rational attitudes more or less con-sciously adopted; namely, culture and not religion di-rectly as such. Analysis or Comprehensive View Is it the big picture or the details that are most im-portant? There is no divine law answering this. In terms of values, is it generality and simplicity in viewing a phenomenon as a whole or rather attention to its com-plexity that matters? Emphasis on the latter assures that whatever is said or decided today may well have to be modified tomorrow. Decisions taken may have to be reconsidered or retracted. Contrariwise one may aim at certain values that at least as goals do not change but are ever more closely approximated. The affective con-sequences of both approaches are clear enough. Com-mitments in the one frame of reference can hardly be irrevocable; in the other they can surely be so. On a practical religious level, are all decisions subject to re-call at will, for example, to the existence of a God, an after-life, the imperative of working to make life better [or others? Or are they simply the best one can give here and now? It is clear that conflicting cultural values have in this instance created tension in human life, not least of all in its religious sphere. Certainty and Conjecture To continue, is certainty a value above others, or is statistical probability all man can ~chieve in most in-stances? But certainty is popularly connected with hope.-- one does not hope unless convinced there is a good chance o~ getting or doing or being what is hoped for. And yet probability is likewise connected with hope; one does not hope for what is already a sure thing, somethingpr~deter-mined and open in no way to chance. To what does one aspire, the certain or the probable?. The Marxist experiences this. Should he hope for the classless society or not? If he does not because he feels that it is certain to come about, lethargy.will likely result. But if its appearance is not inevitable, his efforts alter all may be futile, all of which need not but may lead to despair. As to the Christian, must he hope that the divine kingdom come? If its advent cannot be frus-trated, what need to hope; if otherwise,, why hope when alter all sheer chance may reign supreme?. Antithetical Ideals I have tried to indicate certain human values in two connected sets. They deal with the practical, .the order o~ doing and achievement. Preservation of the past through the work of the leader who sees and inspires others to grasp the whole picture wi.th optimism c6upled with caution and deliberate pace regarding change--this is one set. And yet there is another in competition: the improvement o~ the future through the.cooperation o[ many in thought, action, and suffering, with attention to the manifold of details accompanied with criticism of past failures and a sense of urgency for future reme-dies. These interconnected values art both vying for man's acceptance at the present time. He has opted for neither. Confronted by them both, he is very often at a loss; now this and now that seems better. They affect the very depth of his being and yet are religious only in the sense of having to do with the meaning of life, a mean-ing he has to choose freely. Still his relations with or-ganized religion cannot but be affected by this tension, unrest, and hesitancy. Because religion is obviously con-nected with these values though by no means identical with them, he is probably as interested as at any time in his history with religion as an academic discipline but as disinclined as never before to see any religious organi-zation as offering a permanent way of life for himself. This has affected the attitude o~ many toward religious vocations in particular. In my opinion it justifies the proposition that the so-called vocation crisis is only indirectly a crisis of faith and directly one of culture. Religious Ministry in the Overlap More is called for today than detached analysis in this area. This is especially true in the case of those who are convinced that an increase in the number of religious vocations is o~ great importance for the Church and the 4- .4- 4- Vocation Crisis VOLUME 28, 1969 195 rest of humanity. As a result it may not be out of place to offer a number of suggestions. They will deal with atti-tudes that can be fostered with the aim of encouraging priestly and religious vocations during the period of the cultural overlap. First of all, in both of the competing sets of values, practical certainty is present and operative. The certainty of conviction makes men cling to the past; it drives others to strive for the future. This is certainty at least strong enough to be the guiding rationale and emo-tional factor for living a whole li~e. Too much certainty with regard to the past was an error. A great price has been paid for it. Today, youth is actually afraid of being certain and yet often paralyzed because uncertain. The man who strives for change is doing so only because of a practical conviction that striving is important, worth-while, possible, and not futile. In this sense, certainty is no more missing in him than in' his counterpart. If this impression can be conveyed to youth, the certainty of basic truths of faith will be less repellent. Secondly, another value found in both sets is persever-ance. It is because of a deep-rooted conviction that does not change that the men of science change hypotheses. A religious conviction once thought over and adopted need not shut a man off Lrom the way other men adopt in living. It should not make him closed. Indeed he can be open precisely because he has made a fundamental decision. No one is more closed than he who has made no decision at all regarding the meaning of life. Fre-quently such a man's desire to be open precludes his doing anything of lasting significance. To be con-temporary is not to be a Hamlet. To be ever ready to learn more regarding life's meaning is not to be ready to change one's mind because of simple discouragement or the realization that difficulties will in all likelihood never be completely removed. The applicability of this lesson to the realm of priestly and religious vocations is obvious. It will not, however, be grasped unless one re-calls that these are matters not merely of faith and revela-tion but also of culture. Carl 1. Peter REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS i JOSEPH E. MULLIGAN, s.J. The Religious Dimension of Human Love The current experimentation with various styles of religiou~ dress is certainly a welcome development in the post-conciliar Church. It is becoming clear to Cath-olics and non-Catholics alike that today's sister is very much a woman of the twentieth century, a woman con-secrated to God and united with Christ and at the very same time intensely concerned about the joys and problems, successes and failures of the present world. She is sensitive to the needs of modern men and women, open to new trends in human thought'(such as personal-ism and Christian existentialism)~ efficient in her use of modern means of serving humanity, and orientated to the near and distant future in her apostoli.c thinking. Au courant styles of religious dress do not insure that all this will be true of every sister who dons the new garb, but at the very least it can be said that the new fashions do not militate against the entirely proper "new image" now being created by today's sisters both young and old. Updated religious habits may even foster an interior aggiornamento where it is lacking or lagging; and where the Spirit has already begun to "renew the face of the earth" so that the love enkindled by Him can shine forth for all to see, the sister will welcome the external change as a true sign of the interior renewal which is under way. While the new fashions serve this purpose of bringing today's sister visibly into the twentieth century, they also serve to bring out the distinctly feminine quality of the Christian charity which fills her heart and inspires her life of service. This important point is receiving its due attention by psychologists, counselors, and theologians; here we need only mention the fact that the changes in the dress o[ religious women are closely associated with the emergence, in their own consciousness and in that of all the world, of their God-given and God-beloved ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph Mulligan, &J., is a member of Bellarmine School of Theology; North Aurora, Illinois 6O542. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ Mulligan, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 198 femininity. How important it is that the feminine, ma-ternal dimension of the love of God, whom we always address as Father and whom we almost always think of in masculine terms, be incarnated and effectively com-municated to the human family. In this connection we readily recognize (it is not a question of "admitting," as if grudgingly) the truth of a point suggested by a famous psychologist: that in Christian piety a tender devotion to Mary fulfills a profound need of the human heart and soul, namely, to relate to a heavenly Mother. It is true, of course, that God the Father and Jesus Christ the Son manifest many of the qualities ordinarily associated with human mother-hood: tenderness, mercy, compassion, and above all, love which is given profusely without demanding a com-mensurate response. But it is Mary who, in the religious consciousness of the faithful, is the Mother par excellence, showering upon her children her maternal love and re-ceiving from them, often though not always, their love and trust in return. The religious woman has a position in the divine economy of salvation analogous to that of Mary. In the eminently feminine charity shown by the religious teacher, nurse, home missionary, and others, the human family can see and feel the maternal qualities of the boundless love of God for them. The sister can bring this love directly into the classroom, hospital, or home--and in this the sister can be more effective than Mary in com-municating the love of God to men. For Mary is present to her children only in times of prayer, and the experi-ence of her love requires faith; the sister can be present to the human family in all situations of life and in very concrete ways which are perfectly visible to "natural" eyes. Adaptations in dress, then, are worthwhile and valu-able in at least these two important respects: in placing sisters visibly in the midst of the twentieth century and in accentuating the distinctly feminine characteristics of their love and service to mankind. In most instances the adaptation of which we are speaking has taken the form of a reduction or lightening of the habit to the extent that some sisters have only a 'veil of some sort (or even less) as the external symbol of 'their consecration to God and their special union with Christ. This trend is entirely praiseworthy, as we have stated above. How-ever, the question soon arises about the necessity of re-taining any distinctive signs. Should. the nursing sister simply wear the same uni-form as that of her colleagues in the profession? Should the teaching sister wear a variety of styles readily oh, tainable at the downtown department store? Should the i home missionary don a smart and comfortable business woman's suit? In the opinion of this male observer, the answer is a qualified "no." This is undoubtedly the opin-ion of the vast majority of sisters: there is deep value in the external symbols of one's religious profession. Pre-cisely what forms these symbols should take in order that they be appropriate for our modern age'is a matter which will have to be handled largely through experi-mentation; developments to date have been in the right direction, but certainly not definitive (perhaps we should expect and accept constant adaptation in this matter, as in the liturgy). Though all agree on the necessity of retaining symbols, be they ever so "modernized," it may prove worthwhile to review one of the most substantial reasons for our insistence upon retaining externals of some sort. To this writer, one of the most cogent "arguments" for the existence and activity of God is the astounding love which breaks out (who can say how often?) in this world of ours. This love can be "astounding" even if it be only a kind word at the right time, a friendly "hello" offered in passing, or a thoughtful gesture only slightly out of the ordinary. The more dramatic or "heroic" act of love--such as the total personal commitment of marriage or of the religious life--is all the more revela-tory of the power of God operative in the hearts of men. Experience teaches us that there is something wonder-ful in a person who has risen above the childish and petty egocentrism which in various forms infects hu-manity. And in divine revelation we have a clear state-ment of the truth to which experience opens us: "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." Though this writer finds this train of thought most interesting and helpful, many in our modern world find it something less than immediately exciting. The con-nection between human love at its best and the power of God very often goes unnoticed. Deep, strong love (in many cases of a calibre worthy of imitation by many a nominal Christian) abounds in the heart and soul of a great number of men who consider themselves "atheists" or "agnostics" or "secular humanists" but who probably qualify as "anonymous Christians." We have good reasons as well as strong inclinations to consider these noble hu-man persons as brothers of Christ and sons of God, heirs of the same eternal life which we Christians hope to at-tain (see Mt 95:31--45). The modern man who is truly Christlike in his charity is surely a brother of Christ and a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is indeed the Spirit of Love. Such a person need only be brought to an explicit awareness of his true position before God. Whether this Human Love VOLUME 28, 1969 199 J. E. Mulligan, S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 2O0 exp1icitation is absolutely necessary for salvation, is a theological question which we cannot take up here; that it is.desirable and beneficial for the person, that it is the will of God, and that it is the proper task of the mission-ary Church cannot be doubted. How then is the connection between great human love and the power of God to be drawn clearly in the minds of men? How will men of good will come to real-ize their true religious identity? Surely this wonderful moment of recognition can follow immediately upon a strong experience of being loved with a love surpassing the powers of our wounded human nature. Who can know the unsearchable ways of God, the ways in which He can make His presence known in the hearts of men? What we can know, however, is that God has estab-lished in His Church certain "ordinary" ways by which men should be able to see the connection of which we are speaking, that is, the religious context of all genuine human love. The liturgy, for instance, consists basically of ritual acts of human love, no less authentic for being ritual, set in an abundantly sacred context; the religious life as a visible institution is meant also to be a sign Of the intimate link between love and Love. The woman who loves her neighbor with a striking love and who clearly derives the sustenance for this extraordinary love from her union with God stands as a powerful sign of the connection with which we are concerned. The religious proclaims to the world that love, and especially continuing growth in love, depends upon our cooperation with the Spirit of Love whom Jesus Christ pours forth upon humanity, thereby accom-plishing the work of redemption. If this proclamation is to be effective, however, two elements must be safe-guarded and nurtured: the fraternal love must be sincere and genuine, or else it will strike no one and will fail to touch off the wonder which points to God; secondly, the person showing this genuine love must also show some clear sign of her relationship with God, or else her love will be viewed as nothing more than the highest flowering o[ the human spirit. A true combination of both these elements can be nothing short of overwhelming. The student will be deeply struck one day, perhaps far in the future, by the inestimable service given him by the sister in the seventh grade; and he will ask him-self whether her union with God, somehow manifest, might have had anything to do with her capacity to love so generously and so constantly. The patient in the hospital will find kindness and competent care in the person of the nursing sister at a time when he is most in need of these precious gifts; he will undoubtedly find himself wondering whether her slightly distinctive uni- form may signify a Power greater than herself gently assisting her human heart. The family in Appalachia or in one of our big city ghettoes, olSpressed and exploited by an unconcerned affluent society, will be touched by the "no strings attached" help given by the visiting sister; the family will see that this remarkable woman is in love with both God and them at the same time, as if the one love is identical with the other. This, then, is one reason (to this writer the most im-portant and most meaningful) for retaining some form of distinctive religious dress. By all means, let sisters continue to experiment with new styles in an attempt to find more appropriate twentieth century symbols of religious profession. Also, let sisters continue to try on new and appropriate fashions which will not bushel-basket that femininity which is absolutely essential for incarnating the love of God in all its breadth and beauty. However, for the reason which we have suggested in the latter part of this article and for other reasons which may be equally cogent, let us not throw out the baby (appropriate and necessary symbolism) with the bath (outmoded and "sexuality neutralizing" costumes). The religious must be in tune with the times, di.stinctly masculine or feminine, a living proof of the connection between true human love and the Spirit of Love. 4, VOLUME.28, 1969 201 THOMAS DUBAY, S.M. Biblical Concept of Virginal Love Thomas Dubay, S.M., teaches at Russell College; 2300 Adeline Drive; Burlingame, Cali-fornia 94010. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 202 Half an eye trained on recent ,religious thin.king in-forms one that a great deal of literature has appeared in the last decade on the psychology of loving in the Chris: tian context. For the most part this has been a praise-worthy effort to broaden the place and sharpen the orientation of human love within the ecclesial commu-nity; yet one still frequently finds considerable diver-gence of view among, religious men and women as to how the generally agreed upon norms are to be prac-ticed in concrete situations. We wish in this essay not simply to tread over worn terrain but to suggest some specifics, specifics stemming from Scripture and virgin-ity. We primarily envision religious women, although with some modifications what we say concerns men as well. Philosophical Roots Even though our main intent is Biblical and practical, we may preface our discussion with several philosophical considerations. In the long run practical solutions to knotty problems are no better than their (often merely assumed and unexpressed) theoretical substructure. At the same time speculation must always be in touch with experience, with concrete, here and now reality. Because she is a person, a human person, a feminine human person, the sister must love warmly. Her love must appear, be visible. Why? Because virginal love is incarnated, not angelic. It is human and a witness to humans. For a reason we shall point out later this is to say that it is affectionate. But because we are at the moment dealing with philosophy, not theology, we may leave the witness aside. Virginal love is incarnated and therefore affectionate because it is human love--steeped in supernatural moti-vation, of course, but still human. In fact, it cannot be anything else but' human. No being can act otherwise than as it is. We never expect a duck to perform as a camel. A woman can love only as a woman, a human being ot the feminine sex. Now human nature is in-carnated spirit, a dual reality, material-spiritual. Man is not monistic. Merleau-Ponty's negation ot a fundamental dualism in man is an oversimplification of human exist-ence. Man is not merely a body-subject, an I-body. The profound dualism in his sense-intellect knowing, to cite one example, is an irreducible pluralism that renders a human monism an inadequate explanation of available evidence. Human love, therefore, must also be dual,, it it is to be tully human and not something else. Like its source, the person, man's love must be rooted in spirit but shown through matter, conceived in soul but en-fleshed in body. Affectionate love is simply love incar-nated. It is a love that appears. One need not syllogize to its existence. As a daughter of Eve the religious woman does not loveproperly and fully until she loves affectionately. She is no exception to the roots of reality, no metaphysical oddity. She loves as she is. There is yet another reason why the virgin's love for 1hen is warm, composite, incarnated. It is a reason rooted in the deepest center of her being. She is good, a person good, and goodness tends to pour itself out. She is a social good, so she must pour herself out into others and receive these others back into herself. A woman (and a man, too, but not quite so pronouncedly) is never satis-fied until she loves. She cannot be satisfied unless she loves, for until she loves incarnatedly she is violating a law of being: goodness goes out; person goodness loves persons and shows it. This ontological factor works in the opposite direction as well. Because she is good and beautiful, the sister re-quires that her goodness and beauty be acknowledged, recognized in a way she can see and experience. To say this psychologically, she needs a strong self image, a self image she can derive only from others, from their appreciation and shown love. This is to say once again that deeply rooted in her human make-up is a need to receive affection. What we are implying, then, is that the religious woman's consecration does not exempt her from the laws of human nature or from the metaphysical structure ot the real. Scriptural Roots But still more must be said. There are supernatural reasons as well as natural ones tot saying that religious are to love warmly. Christian love is human love. It must therefore be affectionate. Shakespeare was pointing in the right direction when he observed that "they do Yirginal Love VOLUME ~'8, 1969 203 ÷ ÷ ÷ Thomas Dubay REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 204 not love that do not show their love." x Christ himself was affectionate. He embraced children for no other verifiable reason than to love warmly and to show it. He "looked with love" on the rich young man, which is nothing other than to gaze affectionately. He wept at Lazarus' tomb, a remarkable display of feeling in a man. He who could fearlessly castigate the Pharisees could also correct Martha tenderly by repeating her name twice as a preface to his admonition. The letters of Paul, Peter, and John are replete with expressions of endearment and concern. Where could these originally rough men have learned this Christian way of loving if not from Christ? The Master had already made it clear that a Christian ¯ can be detected in the world by his observable love. Men are to see how we love, be struck by it, and con-clude from this sight who we are.2 Affectionate love can be seen. Cold or neutral love may not be noticed even when it is proved by deed., witness the merely efficient nurse. In any event merely willed love does not draw men as the Christian is to draw them. If the reli-gious is a gospel woman, she is an affectionate woman. She may be nothing else. Practical Implications So much for basic principles. They are plain, hardly subject to hot dispute. Not so, however, with concrete situations, problems, objections. Even a casual acquaint-ance with convent life makes clear that the whole area of close love relationships has been, and still often enough remains, subject to misunderstanding, to excess, to de-fect. One underestimates the complexities and depths of human nature if he believes that in this matter ~pecifics are as easy to handle as generalities. Because we think we recognize the difficulties inherent in our subject, our intent here is modest. We wish to propose some real questions and to suggest, for whatever value they may have, some honest answers. - How does a consecrated woman show a warm love in a manner appropriate to her state? Our first reaction to this question is to note that ordinarily a woman is a better judge of feminine warmth than a man is. And if she happens to be at the same time a holy woman, she knows by a kind of instinct how to love rightly. Yet a man may presume to suggest a few guides. Obviously enough, marks of affection vary greatly with the situa-tion of the recipient. A sister rightly embraces a first-grade boy who has fallen down the staircase, but she is The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act 1, Scene 2. Jn 13:M-5. likely to show her concern in another manner toward a twelfth-grader beset with a teenage problem. The New Testament offers many examples of what a holy, adult affection is like. There is the cordial, warm greeting,8 the holy kiss,4 the affectionate embrace,~ the loving gaze,n a warmth of manner in speech,r a kindly gentleness in the face of a brother's faults,s a tenderness and love in correcting others,9 a deep interest in the in-dividual and his concerns,1° an openness to all,ix a com-forting of those in trial and sorrowA~ Peter sums it all up in saying that our love is to be sincere and intense.~3 A prayerful study of these texts and many others like them will disclose to mogt of us that we have a long way to go before we love as Christians are supposed to love. Because the virgin is a model of evangelical life, she may not be anything but affectionate. The program of how this is to be done is plain enough in the Gosp.els and Epistles. She will find its implementation a lifetime task. She ma~ find it helpful to, work at this task in her par-ticular examen, taking as her specific guides one Scrip-tural theme or text at a time. Doing this she cannot help becoming a lovable woman. Is there not danger to chastity in this warm love? Yes, of course, there is danger, just as there is danger in the pursuance of any good, even the spiritual goods of the intellect. But one may not always solve "excess prob-lems" by removing the possibility of excess through a radical uprooting of the good. When the Master re-flected on the risk of worldliness in His apostles, He did not meet the problem by shutting off the possibility. Rather He explicity declared that they were to remain in the dangerous situation, in the world, but were to be kept free from being tainted by it.14 It is interesting, too, ~hat nowhere (as far as we can find) does the New Testa-ment indicate a concern about the dangers found in a holy affection. Perhaps the reason is that the genuine SRom 1:7; 16:3-16; 1 Cor 16:19; Phil 4:21-3; Col 4:7-18. ~Lk 15:20; Rom 16:16; 1 Cor 16:20; 2 Cor 13:12; 1 Th 5:26; I Pt 4:14. ~ Mk 10:16; Acts 20:37-8. ~ Mk 10:21. ~Rom I:11; 1 Cor 4:17; 15:58; 16:24; 2 Cor 7:~,I~; 10:I; Phil 1:7-8; 4:1; 1 Th 2:7-8,20; ~:1-7; 1 Tm 1:2; 1 Jn 2:1,7,12,14,18,28; ~ Jn 1,5,11; Jude ~,20. s Eph 4:2,~2; 2 Tim 2:24-5; 1 Pt 3:8-9. ~ Lk 10:41; 1 Cor 4:14; 2 Cor 2:4-8; Gal 6:1; Col ~:12-~. xo 1 Cor 12:26; 2 Cor 12:14-5; Phil 2:17-8; 1 Th 2:11. ~x 2 Cor 6:11-3. ~2 Cor 1:3-4; 7:6-7; 1~:11; £ph 6:22; Col 2:1-2; 1 Th 5:11; 2 Tim 1:16; Phlm 20. xs I Pt 1:22. :~Jn 17:14-7: "They are not oI the world, even as I am not of the world. I do not pray that thou take them out of the world, but that thou keep them ~rom evil." ¥irglnal Love VOLUME 28, 1969 205 ÷ ÷ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 206 man of God and the holy virgin know plainly enough-- because their honesty bares the deceitful motive--why really they are affectionate and how their love is ap-propriately shown. Warm affection is risky for the fool-ish virgin, the worldly virgin, but not for the wise and prayerful one. On the contrary, for the latter this kind of sisterly love protects and fosters her dedicated chastity: "Everyone should remember--superiors especially--that chastity has stronger safeguards in a community when true fraternal love thrives among its members." ~g If a sister is a woman of deep contemplative prayer, we need have little fear that her warm love for others will pose any proximate danger to her purity or to theirs. If she is not a prayerful woman, the opposite may well be the case. May a sister [oster a close [riendship with a priest or layman? At the outset of this article we already im-plied our affirmative reaction to this question. The ex-ample of Christ's love for Martha and Mary and that of the saints for persons of the opposite sex (for example, Teresa and Gratian, Francis de Sales and Jane de Chantal) demand this affirmative response. And so does com-mon sense. Sexual love neither is co-terminous with geni-tal- sexual love nor requires it. The sexes are comple-mentary not only on the physical level but also on the emotional, intellectual, volitional, and supernatural lev-els. an The fact that the consecrated woman benefits from masculine influences (such as teaching, spiritual direc-tion) in her formation (and do not men profit £rom feminine influences in theirs?) suggests that she may grow as a religious woman through friendship with a man. Now all of this is being said with increasing frequency both in print and in private conference. But something else has also to be said. And it is rarely said. That this kind of close friendship be advisable demands conditions and qualifications. Not any apparently good male-female relationship may be said to correspond to that of Teresa and Gratian or Francis and Jane. We have already in-dicated what some of these qualifications are. Most of us would agree that a sister should show a sincere warmth toward all men and women, but we are not agreed as to what overdemonstrativeness may be. For our part we cannot share the view that embracing is a suitable sign of affection between religious persons of the opposite sexes. The current multiplication of tragedy that scan-dalizes the faithful and ruins consecrated lives plainly ~ Vatican II, Decree on Religious LiIe, n. 12. ~ See Chapter 3 of von Hildebrand's Man and Woman for a help-ful explanation of this complementarity. shows how naive this view really is. Some people learn only by personal disaster that they are like the rest of men. A propensity toward physical demonstrativeness suggests strongly that the friendship is not on the high-est supernatural level, that it is not thoroughly immersed in God, in a mutually deep prayer life. Unreasonably frequent or protracted conversations and deliberate ro-mantic daydreaming likewise cause one to wonder whether there is question of the love of the Holy Spirit. The virgin is concerned with the things of the Lord that she may be holy in body and in spirit and that she may .pray without distraction. In our view that priest or sister ~s naive who feels that long and frequent visits, kissing and embracing are conductive to the love of the Chris-tian virgin. If this is what "the third way" means, there is no third way. Even aside from the obvious.question of chastity, one may wonder regarding this type of relation-ship how intently the religious can be concerned with the things of the Lord, how deeply she can be committed to her life of contemplation and apostolic action. From the positive point of view a sister may rest as-sured that her love is fully virginal if the thought of the other suggests to her mind the thought of God; if the relationship really helps her to a deeper prayer life, a perfect observance of her rule, an evangelical spirit of detachment, a more profound loyalty to her own vir-ginal vocation and to the members of her own commu-nity, a ~niversal warmth toward others; if their con-versation or correspondence is concerned mainly with God and His affairs. If these norms for virginal love are correct, one may speculate that this sort of friendship is not at all as common as may be supposed. Is affectionate love compatible with the detachment demanded by the New Testament? Twenty years ago many of us would have returned an unhesitatingly nega; tive answer to this question or we would have at least felt inclined to such an answer. Today we more easily understand that warm love and evangelical detachment are reconcilable, although not too many are able to bar. monize new psychology with old spirituality. The prob-lem here, of course, is not a clash between oldness and newness but between sound psychology and twisted spir-ituality. Both affectionate love and gospel austerity are as valid today as they ever were, for the New Testament plainly teaches both of them over and over again. The simplistic mind is uncomfortable with complex dualities and it seeks to resolve a paradox by denying one pole of it. Two decades ago it was common to deny that warmly shown love was proper in a religious, while today it is popular to say that detachment is passd. Yet the New Testament teaches both the .one and the ÷ ÷ ÷ Virginal VOLUME 28~ 1969' " ÷ ÷ Thomas l~bay REVIEW FOP. RELIGIOUS 208 other. It is the same Christ who demands that we re-nounce all things (Lk 14:33) and who embraces children warmly (Mk 10:16). The same John teaches that we must die like grain buried in the ground (Jn 12:24-5) and yet deals with the recipient~ of his first letter with remark-able terms of endearment (1 Jn 2, passim). The first letter of Peter warns against "selfish passions" (1 Pt 2:11), encourages a joy in sufferings (4:12-3) and at the same time urges intense brotherly love shown with a "kiss of love" (1:22; 5:14). The same Paul who cautions against superfluities and himself has nothing (1 Tim 6:7-8; 2 Cor 6:10) also loves his Christians with the warmth and tenderness of a deeply affectionate father (passim). Nowhere in the new revelation do we read the least hint of a clash. Why? Simply because affectionate love is by no means the same as selfish love. On the contrary, it is often a crucifying love. Showing affection to an attractive person is a delight, to a dull or cold individual it is a thorn. Moreover--and this is important and not always under-stood-- we should not see a dichotomy between loving God wholly and our neighbor warmly. Even less should we suppose an opposition. Precisely because Christian love is both one and incarnated but with several objects (God, ourselves, angels, neighbor), it must be warmly shown. This is why St. Paul looked upon the Romans as "God's beloved" (1:7). Because they were God's dear ones, they necessarily became Paul's dear ones in a virile yet intimate sense. Unshown love is a partial self-contradiction. We find this same warm affection in the most austere and detached of God's saints, for they knew what affectionate love and genuine detachment really mean. They did not live by caricature. One need only read the correspondence of an Augustine, a John Chrys-ostom, a Teresa of Avila, a Francis de Sales to see what we mean, Even John of the Cross (andwho could be remotely tempted to conceive him as lacking in detach-ment?), a man short on words but long on deeds, is said to have walked 30 or 40 miles barefooted to visit his warmly loved nuns at Beas. What we are saying, of course, is by no means opposed to the traditional detach-ment doctrine of these same saints. There is a certain in-tellectual snobbery implied in the suggestion one hears today that the goodness and value of love between the sexes, even between religious, is quite a new discovery unknown to our elders in the faith. And there is no little theological inadequacy implied in thinking that this kind of love somehow rules out an integral evangel-ical asceticism. How does One become affectionate? This apparently naive question is really a worthwhile question, one that is susceptible of several interpretations: How does a sister acquire a warm manner toward unattractive personali-ties? How does one love affectionately who feels no warmth toward anyone? How does a person deepen a warm manner she already possesses to some extent, yet not sufficiently? We shall take up each problem in turn. First, how can a sister who does love some people warmly acquire a warmth toward others whom she finds unappealing? If a woman (or man) can love some per-sons warmly and deeply, her problem is motivational, not psychological, when she is cold toward others. Ba-sically she is capable of full human love, since as a matter of fact she does love humanly the few people that appeal to her. But she does not see that the others are also lova-ble and so she is not at all inclined to go out toward them. She needs to develop a largeness of heart, an op-timism of viewpoint that searches out beauty and good-ness, the largeness and optimism of St, Paul who saw enough beauty and goodness in his new (but far from perfect) Christians that he could view them as "God's beloved." If God loves a man, that man must somehow be lovable. It is our task to find out how. The warmth is then easier to come by. Yet it is not come. by without a concomitant spirit of sacrifice. If affection is to be shown toall men and not only to a select few,~the cross of self-denial must indeed be taken up daily. Otherwise we can-not be disciples, if the mark of a disciple is a love men can see and experience. A more perplexing problem (for the person who ex-periences it) is a total lack of affectionate feeling toward others. The problem is not only perplexing; it is likely to be both deep and of long standing. Its roots go back in most cases to an early home life in which little warm love was shown. Though the adult devoid of affection-ate feelings may say she needs neither manifestations of love from others nor her own showing of it to them, she is nevertheless a psychologically starved person. She may not understand what has happened to her, but she has built walls about her person. She is encapsuled. She is dying a death. She is in a state of psychological famine, dying of lovelessness. What can be done for this person who does not know how to love humanly and in a feminine manner? She may need professional therapy. She surely" needs a friend, a close friend. She needs understanding and ac-ceptance. She needs to learn that she is worthwhile, lovable. When she is accepted, understood, loved suffi-ciently, she will slowly become capable of returning love, of warming up to others. But the process is slow. All concerned with her problem need patience, herself included. + + + VOLUME 28, 1969 209 ÷ ÷ Thomas Duba~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 210 We may pause here to insist that the deeply felt need (even in a sister) to love and to be loved is no imperfec-tion. On the contrary, the deeper the need, the nobler the woman. It is the person who feels no need that is ill, for she is affectionately numb. On the physical level loss of appetite indicates illness, while hunger points to health and the consumption of vital energy. So also a hunger for love, real love, points toward psychological well-being, for deeply hidden in the recesses of the hu-man person is .the ontological clamor that goodness and beauty be recognized by another's love. Our final question: how does a religious who can and does love warmly develop and deepen her capacity for virginal affection? She must be herself, of course. She must grow normally as a woman with all the inner richness this implies. Genuine love is rooted. It cannot grow from the surface, from an inner vacuum. From the point of view of how this love is to be manifested the sister learns how a Christian virgin loves warmly by ob-serving those among her companions who do know how. Yet affection is not as easily taught as table manners. There is a universality about its signs, but there is also the uniquencess of the individual, and what is more unique than personal love? Still, a sister should be able to learn from the more finely developed among her companions how the consecrated woman shows her love for men. She learns, too, from her inborn reactions toward the opposite sex. Probably one reason why God made the sexes mutually attractive is that men and women learn from mutual relations how to show concern, warmth, cordiality toward members of their own sex. A normal, woman finds that affability toward men comes more naturally and easily than toward women. (And this is surely true also in the case of the man toward women.) Even though she does not show marks of love toward other women in exactly the same ways as toward men, she should learn much from the latter expe.riences, stemming as they do from her inborn feminine inclina-tion. Heterosexual love (which is not, of course, co-ter-ruinous with genital-sexual love), we may then say, is a partial model of human love in general. It is therefore a model for the virgin also, for she remains a sexual being with all the qualities and beauties this implies. The sister further develops her affectionate manner by a careful and prayerful contemplation of the gospel. After she has diligently studied her Christ embracing children for no other reason but to show warmth in His love, "looking with love" (a mysterious phrase) on a rich youth, correcting Martha in so gentle and tender a man-ner, weeping at Lazarus' tomb, she turns for further guidance to John, Peter, and especially to Paul. The letters of these virile (and before their conversion, crude) men are replete with examples of how to show affection in an adult manner. As an evangelical woman the sister should be filled with their spirit and practice. The final source from which the religious learns to love warmly: contemplation, deep contemplation, es-pecially infused contemplation. It is no accident that St. Paul reminds his Thessalonians that they "have learned from God to love one another" (1 Th 4:9). There is no better teacher of warmth and tenderness than He who could utter the divine verse recorded by Luke: "While he [a sinner] was still a long way off, his hther saw him and was moved with pity. He ran to the boy, clasped him in his arms and kissed him tenderly" (Jerusalem Bible). One cannot get more affectionate than this. In the profound center of her own being where Love is more present to her womanly heart than she herself is the sister can find out how to be a loving woman. Though her indwelling Beloved teaches without words, He pours out from her deepest center the very love by Which she loves Him and others. Through the tenderness of His inner infusions she tastes and sees how good He is. She learns from experience that those who seek the Lord want for no good thing. Her good is to take refuge in the Lord she bears in her bosom and from Him she discovers what tenderness is like. So true is it that the contemplative learns from her inabiding Beloved how to be a lover herself, that we would suspect as inauthentic any alleged contemplation that is not accompanied by a warm love for others, or, at the very least, by a sincere, persevering effort in that direction. Contemplation cannot be walled in, aseptic, sterile. By its own inner dynamism, a vertical and horizontal en. ergy, it must burst out into love for men. Together with the instruction of Sacred Scripture and the love flowing out of the sacraments contemplation is the source of deep human love. All of which is to say that the sister must be a Scriptural woman, an ecclesia1 woman, a contemplative woman, if she is going to be a profoundly loving woman. 4. 4. VOLUME 28, 1969 PLACID STROIK, O.F.M. Sanctification and Conquest in the World With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land that we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be our own (JFK's Inaugural Address, January 1961). Once active faith in God's presence in the world takes hold of a man it begins to give direction to his actions. Not only does God's work really become his own, but also his work becomes the work of God. It is also a fact of experience that as things are it is impossible [or God to Work in this world without us. Very often we speak of God's great gifts to us "and all His marvelous works for us. At the same time we fail to realize the vast interplay and amount of work God has put into our hands to bring these gifts and works to their full development. Just as it is theologically incor-rect and misleading to expect salvation and sanctifica-tion through purely human effort, so also it is misleading to expect salvation even as a gift to come to us without. our effort of respgnse and acceptanc.e of this gift. It is much worse and also very unchristian to think that our faith with its heavy stress on another world and on be-coming holy has somehow absolved us from effort in building this world. ÷ Reconciling Upward and Forward ElYorts Pladd Stroik, O.F.M., is a mem-ber o[ the Francis. can Friars; Pulaski, Wisconsin 54162., ' REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 212 Historically it has always been a problem for followers of Christ to somehow bring together the vertical upward effort of sanctification and the horizontal forward effort of human progress and the conquest of the world. Over and over again the questions have been asked: Are they in opposition to each other? Is one just an acciden-tal backdrop to the other? Is there any inner connection between the two? In our present day these questions are extremely fundamental and are at the basis for much of the rethinking and turmoil going on in our religious doctrines and practices. Theologians as well as scientists are fast becoming aware of man's ability in the conquest of nature, the wor!d, and human life itself. This is beginning to put traditional religious ideas out of business. At one time, God, faith, the supernatural, and grace explained a lot of what happens around us. But now, man seems to get more answers and assurance out of things like space exploration, industrial and technical development, and human relations skills. As men put more and more ef-fort into understanding and controlling the universe we touch, see, and hear everyday, there is the conclusion developing that religious ideals and ideas no longer have a place in human life. The simple reasser.tion that God is alive and that He is important is not as convincing nor attractive as a heart transplant or a flight to the moon. That simply will not do. What is needed is a fresh outlook toward the way in which the process of becoming holy is somehow harmoniously interwoven with the human effort exerted in the direction of un-derstanding, building up, and controlling this universe. Such a fresh outlook will demand that we first of all get rid of all our false notions: about God and the world being in opposition to each other; about the supernatural being the best and the natural something that is second best or a mere accidental prelude to the supernatural; about the "afterlife" .being the sole im-portant thing and "nowlife" being a burdensome punish-ment. For many of us this also means trying to under-stand the correct way in which this present earthly life is a preparation for an open direct life with God. It means realizing that the universe is not some accidental stage play wherein what we do or what we build is meaningless unless we did it with a good intention and for the glory of God. What is required is the under-standing that the final coming of. Christ, just as His first coming, is conditioned by the development of man-kind. Because the full glory of Christ is intimately hound up with mankind it is also dependent upon the development of mankind. While the establishment of the new heavens and new earth spoken of in the Apoca-lypse is something Christ alone can bring about, it does not mean that they will appear out of the clear blue sky. Rather the unification that is evidently taking place among mankind seems to warrant the idea that until this unification is complete the entrance of the new heaven and new earth will not take place. The unification of mankind is not some kind of arbi-trary arrangement of individuals. It is in a very deep sense'th+ union brought about by the power and force of ÷ ÷ Conquest in World VOLUME 28, 1969 PlacidSOtt.Foi.lM~., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS love which is everywhere at work in the world. It is the same power which was at work on the first day of creation and is at work in the technological develop-ment of the world. It operates also in the specifically sanctifying deeds of the Incarnation, redemption, and their extensions, the sacraments. It is here that we can see the close connection between sanctification and de-velopment of the world. They are two efforts working in the same direction--the unification ~of mankind. Sanctification without the development of the world is unthinkable, just as development of the world without the painful redemptive efforts displayed and symbolized on the cross is an impossibility. The development of the world could not take place unless the effort to get rid of evil and disorganization were made as.well as the effort to see that truth, goodness, and beauty triumph. Sanctification must involve human endeavor and the op-eration of those powers which make a person to be a person, namely, his will, intelligence, and consciousness. As men use these powers in building up the world they are likewise working at their own unification. In this way the upward movement of becoming holy like God takes place while the forward movement of develop-ment of the universe is also taking place. The work of God and the work of man are constantly interchanging. We are not only becoming like God thru our work, but our work is more and more revealing God to us. Far from being in opposition, God's work of sanctification and man's work of building the universe are seen as two sides of the same coin or two paths to the same goal and destination. The sacred and the secular are closer to each other than we realize. Sanctification and Unification of the World It seems to be an unavoidable conclusion based pri-marily on man's experience .that the universe has been in a dynamic process of development and that the develop-ment is still going on. Looked at in its broadest sense, this development is best described as fulfilling the incompleteness of the creature and bringing organiza-tion and harmony to the disorder, failure, and disunity found at every level of created .being. Another way of looking at this is to think in terms of.°getting rid.of the evil, both moral and physical, that accounts for mechanical failures as well as the failures of the human will to choose the good. On this level we can see sanctification and unification working on the same broad principle. Sanctification is directed to furthering the God-centered harmonious functioning of man's powers of intellect, will, and consciousness, while unifi-cation is directed to an increasing organization of .the physical elements of the universe. In both the moral and physical sphere, mankind has had to wait for the proper time and the proper understanding of how these parts can better function together. Between the two processes of sanctification and,unifi-cation there is an exchange and an interdependence. For one thing, the harmonious functioning of man on the moral and spiritual level is obviously tied to a proper development of the physical well-being of the body. It does not guarantee good order on the moral level, but it is a condition. Health and wealth at a certain level are indispensable. We all know and experience that forced poverty has a way of crippling man's judgement of right and wrong, his sense of justice, and his esteem for his neighbor's welfare. Further, we should consider how the spread of the gospel, the development of moral value systems, and the knowledge of the sacramental means of sanctification are all dependent upon the proper use of mass communi-cations and upon a proper understanding of human re-lations and the difl~erent cultural values of a given group. On the other hand, sanctification and specifically Christian holiness and man's moral value systems as they develop and improve do assert a controlling effect on the direction and expression of physical evolution and technological advancement. For a very common ex-ample we can take the peaceful uses of nuclear energy which the moral values of nations are bringing about. Endeavor and Endurance for the Christian Today Because of the close interplay between the develop-ment of the .world and man's union with God, any religious ethic that separates the two is doomed not only to be unattractive but eventually will be proved to be erroneous. A legal morality of do's and don't's must give way to a dynamic morality of conquest. The pro-gram for a Christian today must be one that envisions union with God in and thru the world. In attaining this union, it is fundamental for Chris-tians to accept and understand that the universe by God's plan has been locked dead center on Christ. The world as we know it is headed toward Christ as its center and fullness. Every development both of material growth and spiritual growth is aimed at building up a new heaven and new earth, centered in Christ. In this conquest, the Christian consciously and all men by their very existence are called to collaborate enthusiastically, knowing that by their fidelity and obedience and also thru the work they have accomplished, they are com-pleting this universe. Each person must sincerely work at development. His + + ÷ Conquest in the World VOLUME 28, 1969 O~.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS own personal development and the conquest of the world are to be done not simply to keep oneself busy and out of trouble but because this effort is vital to the building up of the universe. All effort that promotes and directly increases the general consciousness of mankind is the best effort. The highest moral principles guiding hu-man action are not those which protect and safeguard man's rights and duties, but those Which promote the best development of the person, society, and the world. In other words, those things which are in the direction of growth of the spirit of man are good, and what is best is that what assures the highest development of the spiritual powers of the earth. If our action furthers the unification and development of the world and the peo-ple in it, it is a good action. The question comes up as to how we can determine if our action furthers growth. Basically our general goal is to increase personal responsibility, freedom, and hu-man consciousness. This is not an easy order, and that is "why emphasis must be placed on the three charac-teristics of human endeavor that will allow for the de-velopment of human consciousness and personal re-sponsibility: Purity, charity, and self-denial are three basic strengths which provide for the necessary growth. When speaking of purity it is important to under-stand it in a dynamic sense, not in any passive restrictive sense. Purity is that power which seeks to organize all our personal energies along the lines of personal whole-ness and integrity--getting rid of those elements in us which tend to pull our forces in a thousand disorganized directions. In unifying the powers of man, purity brings about a conquest and achievement which frees the person for an ever greater expression of the power of love. Purity seeks the unification of the person, while charity is directed to the unification of persons among themselves. For many of us love or charity is simply a command to avoid hurting our neighbor or overstep-ping his rights. This is a rather narrow, negative view of charity. It fails to take in the dynamic element of active furthering of the growth of our neighbor and of the whole universe. Love as energy in its widest sense is the power which draws all things together. It has a synthesizing effect. Love when it takes on the form of Christian charity is all the more powerful because it is the effort of unification, but now in Christ and thru Christ. Charity inspired by Christ is charity which moves and advances mankind and the whole universe toward Him. In the final analysis, love is not only positive and dynamic, but universal and totally directed to building up the world into a unity in Christ. For the Christian who is sincerely interested in the true progress and development of the world, the mes-sage of the cross in terms of self-denial, detachment, and renunciation is as important as seeing a computer operate an assembly line and a turbine generator light a city. He knows and experiences the detachment that must go into an enthusiastic collaboration with the whole human effort in furthering the growth of the world toward the fullness of Christ. In accomplishing any ideal, the difficult labor involved is necessarily a victory over selfishness and egotistical laziness. This detachment thru .action on the material of life is a continuation of and is patterned on the method ex-pressed in the Incarnation--immersion and insertion into the world so as to transform and lead the world to God. But experience shows us that the most radical trans-formation of people and things takes place not thru a simple laborious effort to create and produce but thru the endurance of evils and failures, stresses and painful strains including that of death. A world that is still in the process of development must of necessity have fail-ures and faults for the simple reason that it is not com-plete. Thru the plan of God and man's cooperation, the failures can be brought to serve a higher purpose. Even the impurity in a stone can be made to add beauty and tone to the final product. A moral defect thru the trans-formation of repentance can be the occasion of a greater good. All of the suffering involved in the endurance of evil and that of death has for its final aim the union of man with God in and thru Christ. Such union cannot take place without a going out of oneself. Union revolves around love and love means giving oneself to the one loved. Death in our world is the process by which the final and complete union with God is accomplished. It is the decentering of our self and centering on God. This involves a change of state, but in all development at a certain point a complete rearrangement of elements is necessary for the further functioning on a higher level. The significance of Christ's necessary death and His new form of life after it is a fact of history which is able to give validity and assurance to all men that death is not the end of all but the door to a change of life. Contemporary Man and the Future It is easy enough for modem man to exert the effort to build a new world if the dangers and ris~ are not too great. The vast development of the world which we are now experiencing is not an absolute guarantee that man's progress will always be forward and upward. The 4- ÷ .Conquest in the VOLUME 28, 1969 " 217 temptation to revolt in the face of great odds and diffi-culties is as possible as it ever was. As man becomes more complex and his consciousness more highly developed, the possibilities for further progress are just as good as the possibilities for destruction. It all depends how man chooses to use his powers--in the direction of greater growth in true Christian life or in selfish temporary satisfaction. The urgency to get out of oneself and build a better world for all men is not a call to be answered later. The forces involved in a developing universe are forces that are centered in Christ and ultimately in God the Father. Christ's invitation to be with Him and gather or else to be against Him and scatter is both a promise and a threat that either we build with Him or be cast aside into unending disorganization and disunity. Heaven and hell are as real as they are totally opposite each other. Heaven is full of life in perfect harmony. Hell is empty life in total discord. Man at every point in history must simply choose to build the earth and its spiritual forces in and with Christ or to build a "nothing" out-side Him. + 4. + P/~id O.F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS CARLO A. WEBER, S.J. The Field oJ Combat: Neurotic or Existential Guilt There is no domain in which the acute problem of communication between theology and psychology is more evident than in the experience of guilt. Stormy en-counters on the nature and origins of the experience, its place in human development, its effects on human lives wage on without much hope of resolution, largely because the language, the symbols, and the context of the discussion are not the same for all the contestants. The field of combat is common to all; but the rules of the game are not ~he same. A split-level mode of com-munication has prevailed. Jung remarked of this en-counter that " . both appear to use the same language, but the language calls up in their minds two totally different fields of association. Both [theologians and psychologists] can apparently use the same concept, and then are bound to acknowledge to their amazement that they are speaking of two different things." And to make the issue even more complex, one can add the profes-sional legalist to the lists. For from yet another stance, the lawyer is also concerned with problems of guilt. The experience of guilt, then, is the common playing field for theologians, psychologists, lawyers. But for each, it means whatever the methodological conditioning of his own discipline obliges it to mean. For the moral theologian, it has generally suggested reprehensibility, culpability, blame-worthiness, sin. For the lawyer, it means, specifically, responsibility before the law, civil or ecclesiastical, or criminality as determined by legal can-ons. And for the psychologist, in sharp contrast, it im-plies rather a first-level symptom, the crippling expres-sion of a depreciating self-concept, perhaps the residue of a super-ego-oriented childhood training. + 4- ,I, Carlo A. Weber, S,J., is Director o[ Psychological Serv-ices; Loyola Univer-sity of Los Angeles; Los Angeles, Cali-fornia 90045. VOLUME 28, 1969 219 Carlo Weber, $.l. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 220 When the discussants in the dialogue use the same word to denote such utterly different things, communica-tion soon dissolves into futile bickering over semantics. Guilt is sin; guilt is crime; guilt is symptom. The vocal sounds one hears in the dialogue alert the same signals; but the phenomena signalized are in no way the same. In such a conversation of nonmeanings, a fruitless and frus-trating collision course is inevitable. It is like approach-ing a railroad crossing without the slightest assurance that the waving semaphore symbolizes an approaching train or an unimpeded right-of-way. One would be better off without the semaphore in such a case; and so we might be better off without the word "guilt." The "guilt-language," as the "God-language" in many instances, or the "soul-language," oi other similar efforts at non-communication might best be scrapped, that we might attempt an uncluttered look at the phenomenological realities and then allow a new language to emerge to fit the reality. Orwell's "New-speak," or Cattell's crypto-scientific system of operational definitions in psycho-metrics may, however wild they first seem, be something of the answer. We might well avoid the confusion that always arises from previous connotations to a word by introducing entirely different sound associations. The present state of affairs, then, is largely one in which the language of guilt tends to divide authorities rather than to aid communication between them. When the psychologist hears his legal associate describe a man's guilt in court and watches him step nimbly through what appears to be a maze of legal fictions, he finds the process frightfully objective, abstract, impersonal, inhuman. But the lawyer is not really describing the psychologist's "guilt." The theologian is properly horri-fied, on the other hand, when he hears the psychologist's attempts to gloss over the reality of guilt and speak of it as some neurotic myth. This, to him, is a form of "psy-chologizing"-- foggy, anarchic, and sentimental. But the psychologist is not, in fact, describing the theologian's "guilt" either; indeed, if he is loyal to his methodology, he has nothing to say of it. One could, of course, con-tinue with this litany of misunderstanding; the cross-cultural impasses are possibly as evident as the semantic circus of an international diplomatic conference. Though it may be next to impossible to draw meaning from this semantic labyrinth, we are, nonetheless, stuck with it. It is of value to note that within the verbal en-tente, orientations which have traditionally set the con-testants apart do emerge. It may be helpful to try to clarify them. For the psychologist, guilt is strictly a sub-jective phenomenon, a feeling, if you will, that can be-come almost the pervasive element of one's inner experi- ence. The psychologist, as such, is little concerned about the external, objective counterpart of the experience. His world, as a clinician, is the perceptual world, not pre-cisely the accuracy of the percepts. Whether one's feeling of guilt, therefore, is rooted in anti-social actions, or in an interiorized, guilt-ridden self-concept is not pre-cisely the point. It is now the individual's feeling; and the psychologist deals with it as such. He also realizes that the intensity of the experience is not necessarily in proportion to the quality of an external action or event. One individual may experience crushing guilt subsequent to running a red light at a deserted intersection; another may remain blandly guilt-free after bludgeoning a harm-less old lady's skull. Such a feeling of guilt is clearly not the function of some specific external action; but it is rather the correlate and the expression of his own inner awareness of his value, or rather the lack of it. The inner awareness is the point of differentiation for the psycholo-gist. For both the moral theologian and the lawyer, however, there is an objective emphasis in the philosophy of guilt. An objective norm which has been violated is the criterion according to which one assesses guilt. That norm, of course, is not the same for both. For the lawyer, it is the civil or common law. For the moralist, it is the "will of God," expressed either through canon law, or the magisterium of a teaching Church, or the Sacred Books, or the natural law. But in each case, the norm is an external one; and guilt is the function of a violation of that norm. Once that has been established, the legalist can turn his atten-tion to the degree of individual-culpability, for example, knowledge of the existence of the norm, consciousness at the moment of violation, presence or absence of over-whelming emotional or physical duress, and so forth. So long as we can reasonably assume some subject-ob-ject dichotomy, these two arrangements appear to be quite different. The moral theologian and the lawyer, both with their own specific articulation of the norm of behavior, regard guilt as the individual's posture be-fore the law; the psychologist sees it more as the individ-ual's posture before himself. That there is room for an overlapping of these dimensions is as true as the fact that the subject-object dichotomy is not crystal clear; but, with that qualification, the criteria are different, and so also are the semantic worlds built around the two points of view. Unfortunately, the tradition of morality in the West has been heavily legal since the days when the Latin rite was imposed on the Western Church. And with the Latin rite came the Roman tradition which was one of law and legal prescriptions. The language and the emphasis of Guilt VOLUME 28, 1969 Carlo Weber, $.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 222 the Western Church, when addressing itself to questions of mor~ility and guilt, has been on the side of law. Moral textbooks became classic examples of legal casu-istry. Room was always left, to be sure, for the "subjec-tive," as preserved in the distinction between formal and material sin; but the bulk of any discussion inevi-tably turned about a consideration of the objective or material guilt. Scarcely more than a condescending nod was given to the presence of the subjective element as the final determinant of sinfulness, with something of a begrudging acknowledgement that that aspect, after all, was the most important. But no effort at all was ex-pended, until very recent times, in attempting to provide some phenomenological map of the subjective. Perhaps the futility of that prospect obliged the moralists to turn their attention to the legal puzzle that was, after all, more intellectually satisfying and a good deal more comfort-able. One would suggest, mindful of the discussions swirling about Pope Paul's encyclical, Humanae vitae, that it is clear that the legal emphasis is still the pre[ vailing attitude of the official Church. The rupture within the Church is precisely a function of the person versus Law approaches to morality and guilt. When the law becomes the criterion for human be-havior, the stage is set for casuistic thinking :about morality. This implies a mental "set" in which one is concerned chiefly with the degree of deviation from the norm. How far, for example, can I deviate from the statement of the law and still be safe? Or, at what point of deviation do I stray from the area of safety to the do-main in which I must be classified as a sinner, if it be a moral law, or a criminal, if it be a civil law? Legal guilt is the consequence of straying outside the latitude which the law allows. In that area the legalo-moralist conducts his conceptual jousting. Only recently have attempts been made to bring about a wedding of the law and the personal in the various modes of situational ethics. And this, of course, is both the effect of the communion of psychologists and theologians and a stimulating rein-forcement for it. The norm becomes more an ideal which one strives to approach continuously throughout his life rather than a law from which one deviates. Neurotic Guilt The genesis of neurotic guilt, as described by the psychopathologist, follows a commonly described nuclear process that was most brilliantly outlined originally by Karen Horney. There are four discernible stages. The process begins with a faulty personality development in childhood. The child, whose first self-concept, as such, is the result of the interiorization of the value placed upon him by his parents, sees himself as those significant people in his life see him. If the child is rejected, un-wanted, ignored, neglected, he begins at an .early stage in psychological development to see himself as unworthy, unlovable. This is a fairly obvious situation and need not be explored at any length. The rejected child anticipates rejection' from others because that is the extent of his experience; and he can, in gross instances, unconsciously provoke rejection by hostile, abrasive conduct, precisely because of this expected response pattern. Such a child is almost bound to "always hurt the one he loves." At the other extreme of parental reaction, the child can be overprotected in his early years. The result is the absence of any process of growth into independence. The custo-dial love of the parent prevents the possibility of growth, and the child remains weak, helpless, dependent. In terms of the growth of a self-concept, the child will tend to see himself in the same manner and behave as such. No one is unfamiliar with the suffocating, devouring, .de-structive mother-child relationship, described first by Strecker, who coined the phrases "Morn" and "Mom-ism" in his classic, Their Mothers" Sons. The notion has become virtually a household word since, made even more popular with the expression of theories of a bur-geoning matriarchal society. Interestingly enough, the effect on the self-concept of the child of both rejection and overprotection is ap-proximately the same. These are simply two sides of the same coin. In either case, the child is not being valued for himself. The rejected child is not loved at all; the overprotected child is not loved, except as the mirror reflection of the mother, whose narcissistic needs are pro-jected on him. In both instances, the child disappears. This is also true, but not to the same extent, in the situa-tion where the parents' love for the child is conditional. The child is loved providing he follows certain ground rules established by the parents. Ground rules are essen-tial, of course, but they ought not to be the condition for acceptance. If they are, the child sees himself as valuable and lovable only as long as he continues to ful-fill the regulations for being loved. He ,must continue to perform the tasks prescribed; and, in time, the task-oriented process becomes a way of life. Whether the child is rejected, overprotected or conditionally-loved, the effect, in varying degrees, is the same. The child perceives him-self as inadequate, unlovable, helpless, or constantly in need of proving his value. The moral analogue to the psychological feeling of ineptness or inadequacy is the feeling of guilt. The latter is merely a translation 'of the same feeling from psycho-logical language to moral language. To say, in a psycho-÷ ÷ 4- Guilt VOLUME 28, 1969 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS logical context;.that I am weak, flaccid,, incompetent, un-lovable is the same as saying, in a moral context, I am bad, sinful, guilty. The difference here between the neu-rotic guilt and genuine forms of responsible guilt lies in the difference between the phrase "I am bad" and the statement "I do bad things." The former is a description of the basic personality of the self-depreciating neurotic; the latter a description of occasional activity. The most apt expression of the neurotic guilt feeling was given me, quite incidentally, by a woman patient, who was in-credibly scrupulous. For her, every action was a sin. In a therapy session, she remarked, rather in passing: "You know, sin is in my veins." And with this cryptic obser-vation, she sums it all up. "Sin, badness, is as much a part of me as my very blood. It describes my life, my being, my essence, as it were. And since I am, in es-sence, sinful, every action, which, in fact, is an expres-sion of my nature, must be sinful. I shall either discover it there, as the scrupulou